My real experiences in France

Seeing so many reposted erotic articles, I must say, their writing is excellent, giving readers ample room for imagination. However, I don't know if it's because my life experience is insufficient, or if these articles are written too passionately, but I feel that very little of them truly reflect real-life experiences. Nevertheless, they have at least accompanied me through many solitary nights and given me the urge to share my own story. I'll start by writing a bit, and if you find it interesting, I'll gradually unfold my story… I

only stayed in a small city in southern England for two months, without going to school a single day, before moving to France due to some family reasons back home. My family first found me a school in a relatively large city in the far north of France. Although they said it was a relatively large city in France, it was actually smaller than a county town in China. I studied French while also attending some professional courses for other majors. I had always wanted to go to Paris, but I heard that you can't learn a language well in a city like Paris, so I settled down in this northern city for ten months.

Looking back, I spent a total of three years in France, but only those ten months were truly dedicated to studying. The French I learned during that time is arguably my biggest gain from my studies there. The following two years of my Master's degree were mostly just coasting through. Let me first explain about Master's programs in France: they actually only take a year to complete, but because I was rather lazy, I asked my advisor to submit my thesis in the second year. So, after finishing my exams in the first year, the second year passed by easily. It was because of this that I had the opportunity to experience a romantic relationship in Paris—something I never even imagined before going abroad.

While it was a romantic relationship, it wasn't exactly love. For the first six months or so after I went abroad, especially before going to Paris, I studied very hard, so I rarely thought about romantic relationships. Even my morning erections disappeared for almost six months. It wasn't until my studies in Paris were settled and the academic pressure lessened that I started to have some sexual thoughts again.

I came here right after graduating from university, after preparing for a few months in China. I don't know if it's because I didn't get enough nutrition while I was abroad, but my sexual needs have never been strong. Back in China, my girlfriend and I lived in different cities, and she was quite conservative, so I basically had to take care of myself every day. Occasionally, when we met, we would struggle for a long time but still couldn't get it over with. Now that I think about it, how could I have so much energy back then? I would take care of myself at least once a day, and two or three times was common. After coming here, it's rare for me to see Chinese girls. When I do see them, I just say hello, but I don't have any romantic feelings at all. This situation continued until a month before I was to go to Paris.

While studying French at a French language school in Shanghai, I met a girl. We were in the same class for only a week, and then she stopped coming. She was from Suzhou, and I didn't know her age. Later I found out she was older than all of us classmates, which is why she kept it a secret. Everyone in my class was learning French to study abroad. I only studied for a month and a half before finding it too difficult and giving up. She was learning on her own to prepare for training in France the following year, as her company was sending her there. However, because she was too busy with work, she only studied for a little over a week before disappearing. Fortunately, we exchanged MSN numbers, which allowed us to meet up in France later.

She was in a small city near Paris for training for six months. A month before I was supposed to go to Paris, she added me on MSN, saying she'd been in France for three months and was on vacation, asking if I had time to get together; ideally, we could go to Paris together. I thought, I'm going to Paris next month anyway, and I'm still packing, plus I'll have to pay for accommodation. I suggested she come to my city, and then she could come after I left for Paris, and we'd have a place to stay. She readily agreed. But once she confirmed her arrival date, I started to feel uneasy. I wondered if something was going to happen.

She's definitely a pretty girl, not very tall, but with great proportions. When I saw her in Shanghai, I thought she had a nice figure. She's the kind of person who's easy to talk to, and being a sweet, demure young lady from southern Jiangsu, many guys are quite enthusiastic about her. She's coming to visit in four days and will be staying in my little room! I'm so excited thinking about those days. I tidied up my tiny room, throwing away everything I didn't plan to take to Paris and packing up anything I didn't need. I made the 12-square-meter room look quite charming. I picked her up from the train station

on

Thursday. Thursday is a public holiday, and the French like to build bridges, so they include Friday in the weekend, giving her four days to explore the city. It's less than a two-hour train ride from her city to mine. I don't know why she took the 7 am train, making me get up at 8 am and even make some corn porridge. She arrived at my house early in the morning to drop off her luggage, ate some porridge, and then went out to explore. It had been months since I'd last seen her, and she was still the same—refined and womanly. When she casually took my trash bag with her before leaving, I felt a warm glow inside.

We walked and chatted along the way. The city was too small, and there weren't many sights, so I had to tell her everything I'd seen and heard during my six months there to keep the conversation flowing. Luckily, she was good at keeping up with my topics, so we walked quite happily until it was almost dark before heading back. We stopped at a supermarket and bought some vegetables and meat, plus a bottle of Bordeaux red wine.

Dinner was quickly prepared under her care. Since there were no candles, we dimmed the lights, opened the wine, and began to chat.

That's when I learned she was at least five years older than me, had been working for many years, had a boyfriend of six, and was preparing to get married. But before going abroad, she suddenly discovered that her boyfriend had been having an affair with one of his female clients for two years. She hadn't noticed anything until she went to Shanghai to apply for her visa. She was supposed to stay in Shanghai for one day, but there was work the next morning, so she took the night train back that evening. When she got home and opened the door to find it locked from the inside, she realized she had also fallen into a very mundane emotional entanglement. After less than a month of this, she escaped and went to France. She told her story for over two hours, barely ate any food, but finished most of her drinks—she drank more than half—and then drank the six cans of beer in my fridge (she drank four).

But thankfully, she neither cried nor argued; her face was just flushed.

After dinner, I insisted on washing the dishes, because she cooked them, and I wanted to appear more diligent. Seeing there was nothing to do, she went to take a shower. When she came out a while later, she was already in her pajamas, her hair still wet, and asked me for a hairdryer.

I didn't have one, so she went back to the bathroom, took my dry towel, and continued drying her hair. While I complimented her on her beautiful hair, long and black, I secretly glanced at it a couple of times and immediately noticed two very obvious nipples under her pajamas, especially in the slightly damp fabric. My scalp tingled, and my penis instantly became erect. Realizing the situation was getting out of hand, I immediately said I needed to take a shower and went into the bathroom. I don't know if she saw it when she was drying her hair, but there was a big bulge under my Adidas sweatpants. I think I saw a shy smile behind her messy hair. Of course, maybe she didn't even smile, and I was just imagining things.

That shower was so nerve-wracking. I soaped twice and turned the water temperature down as low as it could go, but I still couldn't hold it in any longer. So, covered in soap suds, I masturbated, spraying a lot of semen all over the floor, walls, and shower curtain. Thinking about it, it's not surprising. This was the first time I'd masturbated in over half a year. It would be abnormal if the amount wasn't much. My heart calmed down a bit after that, and I wasn't as panicked as before. After washing my penis clean, I rinsed it in the shower until the water heater ran out of hot water. Then I looked down and... where was the towel? Oh right, I took it out to dry her hair. Luckily, there was an extra light pink damp towel on the towel rack. Never mind, I'll take hers. It smelled nice, I don't know if it was from her shampoo or shower gel, but it smelled really good, and it had little flowers on it, which was pretty too. When I got to dry her penis, seeing it still wet from ejaculation in the pink towel, I felt another surge of heat in my lower body. And when I put on my glasses and looked through the foggy lenses at her black cotton underwear hanging next to me, my penis became active again. When

I

came out, she was already in bed with me in my crib, and her sleeping bag was spread out on the carpet next to the bed. She was quite self-conscious and didn't even bother to be polite before taking my bed. Considering that she was so much older than me, I decided to let her have it. So I sat down on the floor next to her bed with my sleeping bag, and put my notebook on my lap to check my emails.

She turned to me and asked what good movies I recommended. I opened my movie folder; most of them were French films. Although she seemed to have never seen most of them, she still asked again what was good. Actually, my penis was already stuck between my legs under my laptop. I had some impure thoughts, but I didn't know what to do and didn't dare to. While introducing the movies on my computer, I casually opened the movie Romance and turned the screen towards her. She tilted her head to watch, and I took the opportunity to sniff her hair hard. I think many people have had this experience: after a long time without being close to a woman, once you smell her scent, you'll see double eyelids even in a sow or a piece of pork, let alone a real beauty!

Just as I was wondering what to do, she spoke. "My neck is about to break from looking at it, can you sit up?" Good heavens!

Just when I wanted to sleep, someone threw me a pillow. While I was inwardly cheering, I blurted out, "The bed is too small, it's too cramped for two people." As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. What if she said she wanted to put the computer on the bed to watch TV? Then I'd be out of luck! What a stupid, horny pig!

She straightened up, shifted her buttocks to the side of the bed, and said, "I've said enough, aren't you going to get it? It's wide enough." Trembling, I used my laptop to shield my penis as I climbed onto the 70cm wide bed, regretting not buying a box of condoms yesterday.

When I slipped my icy feet into the covers, she let out an "oh." I said, "There's concrete under the carpet, of course it's cold!" She looked apologetic and said, "Come in, let me warm you up." My heart was truly warmed!

Wait a minute, she suddenly exclaimed.

Oh no, is she regretting it, or is she embarrassed? I didn't dare move, looking at her, but avoiding her eyes. "

Didn't you wear these pants all day?! And you're wearing them into bed? Take them off! I just showered. You just showered too, didn't you?"

At that moment, I think I don't need to describe my feelings. Seeing her deliberately focusing her gaze on the laptop screen, I quickly took off my sweatpants and slipped into the warm bed from the side. 0.1 seconds later, I realized she wasn't wearing pajama bottoms either... I looked up again and saw they were already on the other side of the bed.

I didn't dare move and pretended to watch the movie with her. Soon, the movie showed some daring sex scenes, and I felt smug about my cleverness, observing how things would unfold.

I went to the bathroom. Just as the two people in the movie were getting passionate, she suddenly said something.

Could it be that she felt embarrassed and wanted to skip this scene? Looks like we need to change the movie. But then she said, "Pause for a moment, wait for me." She crawled out of the covers and got off the bed at the foot of the bed, wearing only a pair of white panties!

I tucked my icy hands under the covers to warm them up, staring blankly at the paused image of the female protagonist's white buttocks on the screen, regretting not buying condoms. A series of distinctly feminine snoring sounds came from the bathroom, lasting quite a while, probably from drinking beer. I rushed past the bathroom, and she came running over, exclaiming how cold she was, and immediately climbed over me

. In the dim light, I could see a dark patch of her white panties just a foot away, and I could almost smell the fragrance of that meadow. She crawled under the covers, saying how cold it was, and immediately placed her two icy hands on my left thigh. My hands were warming my swollen penis when her hands slipped in, touching my left hand. I took her hand and said, "Your hands are so cold." She didn't struggle, rubbing her hands back and forth on my thighs as if to warm them, and said to keep playing the movie. I had no choice but to take my hands out and move the computer. Her hands were still rubbing against my left leg to generate heat, but her fingers had touched my penis several times. I think she must have felt my swollen and erect penis too.

There

were many intimate scenes in the movie, but to be honest, it wasn't very tender or enjoyable. Although it won some film awards, I can't remember any of the plot now. I only remember that there were many intimate scenes, and some of the scenes weren't aesthetically pleasing, even a little unpleasant. But when watching this movie with her, I couldn't care less. I couldn't just start with porn.

My hand, which had been outside the covers, quickly cooled down. My left hand held the notebook, while my right hand quietly slipped under the covers from my right side. She was on my left and didn't see. I warmed my right hand on my right leg, just in case. Hehe. She kept looking at the notebook, occasionally rubbing it together. Actually, her little hands were already warm, but she didn't stop. The frequency of touching my penis seemed to increase; my penis was straight inside her underwear, and her warm fingers would intentionally or unintentionally touch the base of my penis and my testicles.

She leaned to her right, resting on the pillow and my left shoulder. Now I could clearly smell her hair and body fragrance. I thought her breasts were touching me through her pajamas, but I couldn't be sure if they were breasts, and I didn't dare move. Just as another sex scene appeared in the film, her hands, which had been rubbing together, suddenly stopped moving. Her fingertips barely touched my penis before stopping. She looked up at me and said, "You responded."

My heart was pounding. I could hear it myself. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath sweet and fragrant, a fresh scent of toothpaste mint mixed with a hint of alcohol.

I thought, I'm not a beast, but I'm not that old comrade surnamed Liu either.

I lowered my head and gently placed my lips on her pink lips. Her tongue immediately responded, and I immediately took it in and began to entwine it.

And her penis, which she had been lightly touching with her fingertips, was now firmly grasped by her. Through her underwear, she squeezed it firmly for a moment, then gently moved it up and down with one hand.

I closed my notebook and casually tossed it onto the sleeping bag beside the bed. Under my brilliant direction, my warm right hand swiftly slipped under her pajamas and grasped her breast, its nipples already erect. I squeezed it a few times before gently kneading it, occasionally tugging at the nipple. Her

breasts weren't large, somewhere between a B and C cup, but they were very firm and not loose at all. I kissed her lips, her earlobe, and her neck, while simultaneously moving my right hand down into her small panties. Her pubic hair was sparse and rather concentrated, so I couldn't tell what it looked like, but it felt very soft. After gently stroking it for a while, I smoothly moved my fingers downwards without any resistance. I only lingered on her clitoris for a few seconds before placing my fingers on her vulva, which was already completely wet. There wasn't much, but it was very slippery. I only used one finger to move in and out of her vulva, and she already started moaning. At the same time, one of her hands reached directly into my underwear and grabbed my swollen penis, moving it up and down quickly. After a few strokes, perhaps feeling that there wasn't enough room to move inside my underwear, she used her other hand to help, moving my penis and testicles out from the left side of my underwear and moving them around more vigorously.

My right middle finger was already deeply inserted into her slippery, beautiful vagina; it was very tight, so I didn't dare use two fingers. Just one finger was enough to make her incredibly wet down there. I pulled my right hand out first and started to pull down her panties. She immediately stopped, first putting my penis into her panties, then somewhat roughly pulling them down. Because my penis was so swollen, it got stuck in her panties, and she even peeked under the covers.

After

unbuttoning two buttons of her pajamas, I was a bit clumsy due to the angle, so she unbuttoned the remaining three herself. I also took off my t-shirt. When my head popped out of her t-shirt, the first thing I saw was a pair of white, firm breasts—breasts I hadn't seen in all these years, so firm and bouncy. I had assumed that after living with her boyfriend for so many years, her areolas would have darkened, but in fact, they were absolutely pink, very small and pink areolas, with small but already very prominent nipples. They really looked like the breasts of those little girls in porn. I took one into my mouth immediately, while my other hand kept stroking it up and down. Her lower body was already a small pool of fluid, starting to flow into her buttocks. And she had one arm around my neck, while the other hand was grasping my penis and moving it up and down, occasionally kneading my testicles.

I climbed on top of her, moving my body between her spread legs. My painfully erect penis rubbed against her pubic hair, probing the entrance several times; the glans was glistening with her vaginal fluid. I didn't have a condom, and at that moment I really wanted to use a kitchen diaper. Luckily, I still had a shred of rationality and didn't thrust in all at once. I whispered in her ear, "I don't have a condom."

She said, "It's okay, I've been taking medication."

What else was there to say? My penis went in immediately. She was so wet down there, so I didn't go in slowly; it went all the way in. She gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I didn't move; it was too tight, and I figured I was about to ejaculate. Thinking about it, if I hadn't masturbated first, I might have ejaculated before even penetrating her.

Her legs were tightly clamped around my waist. I started to slowly thrust in and out. Her eyes were closed, and she was moaning softly. Her hands gripped my back harder and harder. I didn't dare to go fast, just thrusting slowly, without changing positions. This was the first time I had sex with a girl without a condom, and the feeling was truly different. I thrust slowly like this for two or three minutes, and then suddenly she squeezed my legs tightly together, pressed her lower body against me, tilted her head back slightly, and her moans became more rapid. My penis suddenly felt a surge of heat, and I didn't care about rhythm anymore. After a series of hard thrusts, I ejaculated inside her with a short, loud cry. It

felt so good to be on top of her; I didn't want to move at all. She moved a little below and said, "Let me wipe you." I was a little embarrassed and kept saying, "Let me do it, let me do it." I turned to let her out, and she said, "Don't move," then ran to the bathroom, covering her genitals with one hand. After rinsing, she came back naked, with toilet paper and a towel, and thoroughly dried me off, saying I must be tired and we could shower again in the morning. Then she snuggled into the covers and hugged me. I was incredibly tired and wanted to sleep immediately, but seeing how energetic she was, I felt awkward sleeping and started chatting with her casually.

She said my penis was the perfect size; any bigger and she'd be uncomfortable, any smaller and she wouldn't be comfortable either. I thought, even though my penis isn't large, it's at least 15cm long and quite thick, so why would she say that! I asked her about her past relationships with her boyfriend. She didn't shy away from the topic, saying they were like an old married couple. However, she was still very passionate about sex. They did it everywhere at home and even in her boyfriend's office after get off work. They did it every day until that incident, and it's been four or five months since then. Later, I learned that two months later, she went back to China and completely broke up with her boyfriend. They sold their house and everything else, and everything was settled. It's just that she hadn't done it for a long time, so today's session felt very comfortable. I then asked her why she was taking birth control pills while living alone in France. She said she had been taking them for over five years. Her cousin works as a department manager at Mafulong's company, so she knows that the pills are effective, have no side effects, and are good for the skin (it sounds like I'm promoting the pills, haha); plus, her cousin gave her the pills for free, so she's been taking them, even taking one pill a day with her after going abroad. However, she did look much younger than me. Perhaps the medicine was effective, or perhaps I just look too old, making her appear much younger.

The next morning, I woke up needing to urinate around 9 a.m. It was Friday, a day of rest for all of France, so it was quiet outside, with hardly any car noise. After urinating, I pulled the thick curtains open a crack, and the room brightened considerably. I climbed back into bed and embraced her from behind. She seemed to be groggily waking up too. I gently stroked one of her breasts with my hand, playing with her nipple. After a few moments, her nipple hardened, and she stirred, turning over to lie flat on her back. I moved my hand to her other breast, making the other nipple hard as well, while gently licking the previous breast. Her penis had been erect since she got up, and her legs were gently moving around in the blankets, rubbing against my penis. I really wanted her to give me oral sex, but I'd never done it before, so I didn't know how to ask. She didn't seem inclined to lick me either.

I didn't care about that for now. Feeling the room was no longer cold, I pulled back the bottom of the blanket, revealing my four legs. She immediately and instinctively pulled her legs up, asking what I was doing, getting up now? I didn't answer, just crawled under her and rubbed my head against her pubic hair. It was then that I saw her beautiful private parts for the first time. Later I found out she was actually almost 10 years older than me, well into her late 30s, but her skin was very firm and her figure was amazing. She'd loved sports since she was little, was a great swimmer, and even attended a sports school for a few years before giving up because she couldn't keep up with her studies. Plus, she didn't have many worries in her life and regularly got beauty treatments, which is how she maintained her figure. But I don't understand why her private parts looked like a little girl's.

I always thought that if you did it too much, your breasts and genitals would darken. Last night I saw her breasts and thought they were beautiful, but I didn't expect her genitals to be so alluring. There wasn't much hair, concentrated in a small patch. As my tongue circled around her clitoris, she spread her legs a little wider. Her labia were very small, or rather, her entire vulva was very small, and deeply recessed inside, completely unlike the "steamed bun" type described online. The sides of her labia were very clean, without a single hair or pigmentation, just the same color as her other skin. Gently parting them, they were already glistening with moisture. I had never given oral sex to a girl before, and her clitoris was also very small, not as prominent as in pornographic films, so I didn't know where to start. I should probably use my mouth. More importantly, perhaps she was embarrassed to let me see her genitals like that, so her legs weren't spread too wide. Plus, my tongue is relatively short, making it difficult to lick inside. So I licked her clitoris, kissed around the area, and then directly inserted my penis.

It's a little embarrassing to admit, probably because I'm inexperienced. I almost ejaculated as soon as I penetrated her. Back in China, I'd basically never done it with my girlfriend. So, strictly speaking, I'm still a virgin in France, haha, I'm a little ashamed of myself. I originally thought I'd make this girl (who's practically a young married woman) have multiple orgasms, like in porn movies, but in reality, I haven't reached that level of skill. I only thrust for about five minutes before I ejaculated. Looking back, the feeling of ejaculating inside without a condom is different. She seemed to enjoy it, but not as excited as last night; maybe she was still a little unsatisfied.

For the next two days, we didn't leave the house except to go to the nearby supermarket. That night and the next day, we made love three more times. I don't know what the problem was, but I just couldn't be vigorous enough. Although she kept telling me it felt good, I kept wondering why this was happening. Later, I checked myself and concluded that it was because she was too tight down there and we weren't wearing a condom, which made me feel a little better.

On the morning of the last day, her train was at 11 o'clock. We had already eaten breakfast by 10 o'clock and packed her luggage, but the train station was only a 5-minute walk from my house, so there was no need to go so early. We just stood by the window talking, making small talk to pass the time. At 10:30, I saw that we could leave and slowly strolled over. I leaned over and kissed her deeply, saying how reluctant I was to leave. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately for almost a minute. At that point, I didn't care about time anymore and just unbuckled her belt. She threw her small bag on the ground and came over to pull down my pants. I was still wearing my Adidas, and without a belt, I was completely naked. The most infuriating thing was that my penis went limp. It was erect when we kissed, but it went soft as soon as it was exposed to the light.

When she grabbed my penis, she was probably a little surprised and even laughed. I was a bit dumbfounded and didn't know what to say, blurting out that my penis was cold.

Behind us was a small table, a low one I bought at Apple, for a little over 9 euros. We used it as a desk and a dining table. The 12-square-meter apartment was too small, so there was no writing desk. She sat on the small table, said "Let me warm you up," and immediately took my penis into her mouth. Good heavens, my legs went weak, I almost lost my balance, how pathetic! In no time, my penis was erect. At first, she was just moving it inside, then she started moving it back and forth. I looked down at my 15cm penis going in and out of her mouth, my blood was boiling. I squatted down, pulled down her pants, and licked a few drops around her vulva. I don't know if it was her vaginal lubricant or my saliva, but it was all wet. Then I raised my penis and inserted it.

That little IKEA table was really too small. Our position was weird. Even though the bed was right next to us, I didn't want to change places. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I supported myself on the little table behind her and quickly started thrusting. It was slippery down there, and there were splashing sounds. I didn't care about the proper depth anymore; I was going all the way in every time. If I hadn't been supporting her from behind, she would have been pushed off the table. There was a wall clock above the bathroom door in front of me. I clearly remember that we did it from 10:38 to 10:50, in the same position and at the same frequency. I never thought sex could be so tiring. My arms were sore because she was pressed tightly against me, her arms and legs gripping me tightly, her back almost off the small table, and she was moaning loudly. When I finally ejaculated, I even wanted to free my hand to cover her mouth. Although I had ejaculated every day for the past few days, this time I still sprayed more than ten times. She also kept her back very straight and trembled without moving for almost half a minute.

After that, there wasn't much lingering conversation. She quickly wiped herself and stood up. Semen was still leaking from her vagina. There was no time to wash, so she took a panty liner from her purse, put it on her underwear, pulled up her pants, grabbed her luggage, and rushed out. When we reached the platform, the train conductor was blowing his whistle. Without even checking the carriage number, she rushed on. She looked back at me, and I wanted to lean in and kiss her, but she hurriedly said, "I'm leaving, the doors are closing."

She took a step inside. The doors slowly closed, and she waved to me from inside, saying, "Goodbye, Paris."

(Recalling this wasn't easy, keep writing)

7

Actually, there's a lot to write about, but also a lot that can't be made up. For example, some friends suggested writing about the kitchen, balcony, and sofa. Life in France is quite tough, especially in Paris. A 50-square-meter apartment costs 1,000 euros a month, and those with balconies are even more expensive. Kitchens are only two or three square meters, so finding romance in these places is difficult. However, those of us raised under the red flag are not afraid of hardship. We fully utilize our intelligence to create enjoyment in life.

For the first month after arriving in Paris, I stayed in a friend's living room. She was a girl who had been in Paris for two years. My own rented apartment wouldn't be available until next month, so I temporarily stayed at a friend of a friend's house for almost a month.

Let me mention that things were relatively peaceful with this girl during that month, mainly because she was the girlfriend of a colleague of my friend back home, so we were acquaintances. Her last name is C. She studies finance at Paris Dauphine University. Her boyfriend works in Jiangsu Province, and I even had dinner with him when I returned to China. She goes back to Paris twice a year, so in the two years she's been abroad, she's already gone back three times. Her boyfriend paid for all the airfares, and each round trip costs 8,000 yuan, which isn't easy for him.

Apartments in Paris are very small; international students can't afford large ones. C's apartment is basically just one room; the living room is actually a slightly larger kitchen/hallway, I'd estimate it's about 5 square meters. There's a sofa bed, but because it takes up too much space when unfolded, and my luggage was too big, I slept on that sofa that was never opened for a month. This apartment, less than 20 square meters in total, cost over 600 euros. Having a sofa to sleep on is already quite good.

C is quite tall, almost 1.65 meters, with above-average looks. She's slim, with long hair, usually tied in a braid, but she looks better with her hair down at home. Since she's my friend's wife, I'm very careful living with her, not daring to say anything too outrageous, and trying not to appear at home during the day. I don't dare go to bed too early at night either, as she likes to sleep in late. She stays up late in her room, browsing the internet and reading, and sometimes comes out to use the bathroom or grab something from the living room. I usually don't get to sleep until almost 1 a.m., but sometimes I can faintly hear her making online calls and talking to her boyfriend. That means I'm usually late for class the next day. Especially since my school is in the southeast corner of Paris, which is quite far. It normally takes 40 minutes by metro to get there, so being late or even arriving early is quite normal. Another reason is that there are too many Chinese students at this public university, which severely diminishes the feeling of studying abroad. This is also a major reason why I'm not interested in going to school. Unlike my previous city in the north, where there were very few Chinese people and the French were very warm and polite to us.

Staying in this kind of room, there's not much privacy to speak of. I don't even dare to sleep in just my underwear; I washed a pair of sweatpants and wore them as pajamas. Moreover, the house originally only had one large room. The landlord partitioned it in the middle with two layers of plasterboard to create this one-bedroom apartment. I guess the landlord didn't put any soundproofing materials like asbestos in the walls when he was renovating, so the walls aren't soundproof at all. I think C inside probably didn't know that. I heard her making phone calls when I first moved in, and if you listened carefully, you could make out what she was saying.

I was living with someone I knew, so I didn't have any bad intentions. Although I had aroused my pent-up lust over a month ago, I still couldn't make a move on my friend's wife. Besides, C seemed to be very careful. Every time she finished showering, she would bring her underwear, which she had washed casually, into the room to dry, so I couldn't find anything to fantasize about.

After staying there obediently for three or four days, one night it was almost 1 a.m., and I was lying on the sofa, half-asleep. I vaguely heard C talking on the phone inside, it sounded like she was talking to her friend online, saying things like take care of yourself and not to go out with female colleagues at night. I covered my ears with the blanket and continued to sleep. In my dream, I vaguely heard a woman moaning. I woke up immediately, lifted my head and listened carefully. It was coming from the other room. Damn, could she be watching porn? I simply sat up and listened. Watching porn doesn't require using speakers, right? Headphones would be enough!

I got up and tiptoed to her door, wanting to listen more closely. Suddenly, I noticed a ray of light shining through the keyhole of the door lock. I looked down and, haha, it was an old-fashioned lock with a keyhole that was open from both the inside and outside. When she locked the door, she twisted the key, revealing the lower half of the keyhole, allowing me to easily see inside. I quickly went to the sofa, fumbled for my glasses in the dark, put them on, and went to the door to peek inside. My first experience of peeping! Her room was small, only about ten square meters. Looking through the keyhole, I could see her

desk . She was sitting in a small swivel chair, her back to the door, looking at the computer, her long hair draped over the back of the chair. She even had one leg propped up on the desk—a bare leg! Damn, was she masturbating? That was my first reaction; I got excited immediately. Who would have thought? Students at Paris Dauphine University are all high achievers, usually so modest, not at all like that. I never imagined they'd be like this when they're alone. I guess everyone's like this; the more proper a girl seems, the more attracted they are. If she's usually quite promiscuous, seeing anything wouldn't be as exciting. I carefully pressed my glasses against the keyhole and glimpsed half a buttock through the gap between the swivel chair back and seat. She was definitely naked from the waist down. Judging from the exposed shoulder above the chair back, her upper body should also be naked. Unfortunately, it was only a back view; I couldn't see anything else. See? So annoying! "You're alone in your office, right..." She seemed to be talking. Looking closer, I realized she was wearing a microphone. Turns out she was video chatting with her boyfriend back home! Her boyfriend must be having a blast. Perhaps because of the microphone, C didn't realize her voice was quite loud, especially late at night. Excitedly, I knelt on the floor. It was a little uncomfortable on my knees, so I grabbed my coat from the side and used it as a cushion, comfortably kneeling on it, at the perfect height for the keyhole. Her butt was less than two meters away, but the desk lamp was too dim, and I was backlit, so I couldn't see her clearly. She was still talking inside. "See? Don't let your colleagues see!" " Are you alone? Can't see? Then I'll move the camera closer..."

She put her legs down on the table, moved the notebook a little closer to her, and then tilted the screen down slightly to better align the camera clipped above it. With this movement, I could see right up to the door, the screen pointing directly at the keyhole—less than two meters away! Although she had her back to the door and I couldn't see anything else, I could see her entire body on the screen—completely naked! Her MSN window wasn't large, and the notebook was only 12 inches, but I used my full potential, my eyes practically a magnifying glass. She seemed quite pubic hair; I couldn't tell how big her breasts were, but I could make out her dark nipples. She spread her legs for her boyfriend to see, and he seemed quite excited too; a man in a suit and tie was moving back and forth in the small video window.

When C moved her finger around below to show her boyfriend, she was making humming sounds from time to time. It was then that I realized the humming sounded a bit unnatural; she was probably just humming for her boyfriend to hear. That guy came to the company early in the morning just to watch live-action porn! His boss must have thought he was a hardworking young man, haha, he'd been fooled! But later, when I went back to China, I had dinner with him, and he really was a fairly ambitious young man, and the kind of guy girls liked. Judging from his tone, he didn't seem to be idle during C's three years abroad. Fortunately, in the end, we waited for C to come back to China and live together. "It's okay if I can't

see it clearly. I should have known better than to buy it yesterday; it cost 29 euros!" C was a little unhappy. So this was her first time watching a live online show? I'm really lucky. If you can't see clearly, take the camera down and point it at your breasts and pussies one by one! They clearly have no video-watching experience; I really wanted to knock on the door and remind them. It seemed the guy couldn't see clearly and was getting impatient. C also got impatient, saying she was logging off if she couldn't see clearly, and immediately closed the video window, switching to voice chat. Seeing the show was over, I immediately got up and went back to bed.

But I kept my ears open, and then C started complaining about her boyfriend, saying things like, "We still have books to read, why did you watch for so long if you can't see anything clearly?" and "I won't let you watch anymore..." and "Yours is so small, I don't want to see it, it's all hair," etc. I laughed so hard in bed.

But actually, for the next month, she really didn't let her boyfriend see it again. There wasn't a single video. A little over a week later, I pretended to ask if she had a webcam I could borrow. She said she'd bought one before, but it was blurry and didn't work well. Luckily, it was from FNAC, and she returned it the next day with some excuse.

Although that was the only time I secretly saw a slightly lewd side of her, it taught me the advantages of old-fashioned French door locks. What made me even happier was that the lock on her bathroom door was the same!

The

day after I secretly watched her video, my gaze towards her changed. When I saw her again that afternoon, I couldn't help but imagine what her lower body looked like, especially when I saw her simple and serious expression. So, from around 7 pm when she got home, my penis remained erect, constantly bulging in my pants. I was worried it might suffocate from lack of oxygen. I waited until after 11 o'clock. After reading for a while, she came out as usual, passing through the living room to go to the bathroom to shower. I was in the living room with the lights off, curled up on the sofa watching a movie with my headphones on. She might have greeted me as she passed by, but I deliberately turned the headphones up very loud, so I didn't even look up, pretending not to see her.

As soon as I caught a glimpse of her entering the bathroom, I took off my headphones and waited. The door closed, the plastic bag rattled twice, and then the door clicked shut. Soon, I could hear hissing sounds from inside.

I immediately jumped up from the sofa, carefully scurried to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and squatted down.

The bathroom door faced the toilet directly. My heart was pounding because she was sitting naked on the toilet, snoring and stuffing her long hair into a plastic hairnet—she wasn't planning on washing it that night. As she did so, her breasts were right in front of the keyhole, right in front of my eyes! Under the 60-watt incandescent light, less than a meter away, my penis was extremely engorged.

Her breasts weren't large, maybe a B cup at most, with small areolas and dark nipples. Perhaps it was cold from just taking off her clothes, because I could count the goosebumps on her breasts; her nipples were erect. I realized that I was even more excited than I had been during our lovemaking over a month ago. She fixed her hair, leaned forward slightly, and rested her hands on her thighs. She sat on the toilet for about half a minute. During that time, her face and my face outside the door were less than 30 centimeters apart; I could almost hear her breathing.

Her breasts hung there, not large, two dark nipples. I stared at her face and then at her breasts, as if we were face to face. Occasionally, she would glance at the door lock in front of her nose, or even at the keyhole, but it was bright inside and dark outside. She couldn't possibly see or imagine the peeping eye 30 centimeters away. I can still vividly recall that thrill, and every time I remember it, my heart beats much faster.

She sat up and pulled out a roll of toilet paper to wipe herself. I really don't understand. Why waste that toilet paper when you're about to shower? If it were me, I'd just shower right there in the shower, saving water for the toilet. After she finished drying herself, she stood up, and suddenly a thick patch of dark pubic hair blocked my view. A lush patch of pubic hair!

I never expected such a refined, tall, and delicate girl to have such abundant pubic hair. Even from less than 30 centimeters away, I could faintly smell her scent. The hair was a perfect inverted triangle, extending all the way to above her pubic bone. It covered a large area and was even denser, like a wool blanket, lying flat on her lower abdomen. In less than ten seconds, she stepped into the small shower stall next door, disappearing from view. But those ten seconds of visual impact left me breathless for a long time, as if inside was a horny woman with surging estrogen, long suppressed, waiting for a man to liberate her. I stood up, took out my swollen penis, and started masturbating.

Girls always take a long time to shower. As I played with my penis in the dark, I imagined the peach blossom pool hidden among her dark pubic hair. Suddenly, I noticed her half-open bedroom door. I never went in when she was home, and it was locked when she wasn't. Only at this time, during her daily shower, was she unguarded. I walked quickly inside, my penis erect.

The room was small and tidy. On the table next to the small bed were a pile of books and photocopied lecture notes, several dictionaries, and a small canvas wardrobe with a zipper. The only thing that caught my eye was a bra hanging on the clothes rack by the window. She probably took her panties into the bathroom. I yanked it down; it was Etam, 70A, indeed only an A cup. I guess it's not easy to find such a small bra in France! I wrapped the bra around my penis and quickly started moving it up and down. I soon felt the urge to ejaculate, so I quickly stopped, smoothed the bra down, checked for any lint, and hung it back on the rack.

I returned to the living room, still erect, and continued my penis massage by the kitchen sink in the corner of the living room.

Listening to the sound of water inside, and feeling like I was about to ejaculate, the water stopped. How could she be done washing so quickly?

Maybe it's because she didn't wash her hair. I immediately stopped and squatted down at the bathroom door.

The shower curtain swung open with a whoosh, and two long, slender legs appeared one after the other in front of the keyhole. They were already dried, and the pubic hair stood up energetically, all fluffy. I wondered why she was standing there with her pubic hair facing me. I stared intently at that patch of shiny black blanket. Then she turned around, placed one foot on the shower step, and bent over towards the shower floor. I don't know what she was doing, but this bend completely exposed her vulva, which I had been thinking about for so long, to the keyhole. Her vulva was somewhat plump, with pubic hair almost reaching her anus—not very long, but still quite a bit. Her large labia hung outside, seemingly with water droplets clinging to them. The color of her labia was also quite dark, and with each movement of her body, they seemed to sway, occasionally revealing the vaginal opening that made my nose bleed. My hand didn't stop, stroking my penis up and down, watching her labia, and after a few strokes, I ejaculated violently. Luckily, I covered myself with both hands, otherwise it would have gotten on my clothes and the door.

Less than two minutes later, she stood up and bent over slightly. I then saw that she had noticed the shower drain was clogged, and she had opened the small cover to clear out the long hair inside. I quickly got up, washed my hands at the sink, dried them, sat back on the sofa, put on my headphones, and continued pretending to watch a movie. This little keyhole made every day of my first month in Paris so enjoyable and anticipated. School classes were

short

for the first two weeks, then gradually increased, and things got busy. I was always in a good mood going to school every morning, always focusing my day on the half hour before bed. I

didn't feel particularly warm at home, but I still looked forward to coming home from school every day.

As C stayed longer, she started talking to me a little more at home. She treated me like her boyfriend's good friend, so she was quite polite to me. However, she didn't seem to be a very talkative person to begin with, and being a diligent student, our conversations were mostly about superficial things like school, major courses, internships, and job hunting. I felt like she hadn't really stepped outside of school or into Paris much. She seemed like a complete bookworm. I tried to ask her what was fun in Paris, but she didn't know. She had lived in Paris for almost two years and had only been to the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, and a few other small museums like the Guimet and Rodin; and even those visits were on the first weekend of each month in France when museums were free—she hadn't spent a single penny on entertainment. In my opinion, she was a really boring woman.

Looking back, it was probably because the finance department at Paris Dauphine University was so prestigious, the academic pressure was immense. Plus, she hadn't worked since arriving in France and was very frugal, unwilling to spend money on anything outside of her studies and living expenses. The more frugal and dignified a girl is, the greater the stimulating effect of fantasies, especially after seeing her from head to toe. Now, every time she walks past me, in my eyes, she seems completely naked. Even when her breasts suddenly seem larger, I secretly chuckle to myself, thinking she must have changed to a thicker padded bra.

In the past month, C has been the woman whose body I've observed most closely in my life, truly seeing only a small part of the whole picture; I even feel like my eyes have become uneven. Every inch of C's skin was meticulously examined and savored by me over the course of more than 20 days. I especially remembered her anus surrounded by a tuft of short hair, and the two small black moles on her labia majora. To this day, I can't quite recall her buttocks, her breasts, or her nipples, but those two long, large labia minora, her anus, and the two "beauty marks" are all vivid images imprinted in my mind.

Because I didn't charge rent—mainly because she resolutely refused—I felt really bad and could only go to the Meili City supermarket, where Chinese supermarkets are concentrated, every one or two days to buy all sorts of groceries to eat with her. She rarely cooked at home, and if she did, it was usually just one dish. I didn't want to make her house like my own, cooking elaborate meals, so I mainly bought cooked food and snacks at the supermarket, occasionally bringing back some vegetables. Once, I brought several large meat buns, and she was quite surprised, asking me how there could be meat buns in Paris. What a bookworm! We basically never ate at the same table together. I would usually serve myself in a bowl and eat while sitting on the sofa, looking at the computer. She would silently finish her meal quickly beside me. It's awkward for two people to eat at the same table without saying a word.

Mainly because she didn't seem to respond to what I said, so from the second day after I moved in, I deliberately avoided eating at the table.

Time flew by while I was staying at C's place; a month passed in the blink of an eye. My rented apartment was now empty. The previous tenant had taken or sold a lot of his belongings, even getting rid of the unsellable single bed, which he actually wanted to sell to me for 100 euros, claiming it was brand new. I thought, "You can't move it, you can't sell it, so it'll be mine anyway!" But he was even more shameless than me. He posted an ad online, starting at 1 euro, no delivery, and even bought a new one online for 1 euro. Since he didn't have a car, he had the store deliver it to his door.

I moved out of C's place on a Saturday. I didn't have much stuff: a suitcase, three large cardboard boxes, and a bag; but I definitely couldn't take the subway there. So I paid 40 euros online to a student with a car to help me transport my things. It was a young man surnamed Chen, driving a very new Roveer. I was thinking, "Why would someone driving such a nice car earn so little money?" Later I found out that he had previously earned over 6,000 euros from that small amount of money using a Renault 19. It made me realize the difference in perspective and mindset between students from the provinces and those studying in Paris.

C helped me carry my notebooks downstairs. Before the car arrived, she stood downstairs watching my luggage. I carried everything down three flights of stairs, already drenched in sweat. The truck arrived right after I finished moving. I was panting and didn't know what to say, just kept thanking her for her help over the past month. She politely replied that she'd gained weight from eating my food every day for the past month and that I should be the one thanking her. Little did she know, before I unloaded the last box, I'd placed a small box on her table containing a Vizi facial care set. C's skin is good, but unfortunately, she uses domestic skincare products brought from China.

Before I got in the truck, she waved and said, "There won't be anyone to chat with at night anymore. Come back and visit sometime!"

I thought to myself, "You never chatted with me when I was here; what does 'come back and visit sometime' mean? To see the house?

To see you? Or to see the good stuff in the keyhole?"

I never saw her again in France, only exchanging pleasantries online until I saw her again when I had dinner with her and her husband after returning to China.

I'm back to living alone. It's a small apartment similar to C's, maybe even smaller. My so-called living room doesn't even have a table, just a small folding sofa about 40cm wide. It's called a sofa because it's filled with foam. It folds into three sections, unfolding into a nearly 2-meter-long foam mattress that can be used as a bed. I don't know which tenant passed it down from, and I don't even know what the foam inside looks like anymore, but when you use it as a sofa, you can easily sit down hard on the floor through three layers of foam. Later, I bought a second-hand Ikea small square table online to match this small sofa; the height was just right. Ikea stores in Paris are too far, and without a car, it's impossible to go. So, I started getting used to buying second-hand goods from French student websites—cheap, practical, and I even made quite a few friends through it.

L is someone I met online while buying second-hand items; she's a girl from Beijing. At the time, I wanted her handheld vacuum cleaner, desk lamp, printer, desk, a folding chair, a bunch of clothes racks, and kitchen utensils—all for only 80 euros. 11

is leaving Paris to study her third year of university in the provinces, so she's gradually selling things. She could have continued studying in Paris, but she wants to pursue her master's degree there. Staying in Paris would be too boring if she didn't study in the provinces during that time, so she applied to a school in a tourist city on the French Riviera. She called the secretariat and learned she had been accepted and was waiting for her acceptance letter to register. When I called her, it went straight to voicemail. A lively voice answered in French first, then Chinese, asking me to leave a message. It was clearly someone from Beijing. She replied to my message less than three minutes later, saying she was chatting with a friend and then enthusiastically introduced her products to me. I told her I had seen her posts but didn't really want anything else. She said, "Come take a look and decide, they're very cheap, they're going to be thrown away if nobody wants them."

No need to transfer subway lines, just one direct train. As soon as I got off the subway, I saw a very energetic girl. To be honest, at first glance, I thought she was a boy. She had short hair, wore brightly colored sportswear, and walked with a slightly bouncy gait. She looked athletic too. Her features were quite nice, at least fairly regular. She waved very vigorously at me as soon as she saw me—was it really necessary to be so dramatic from only ten meters away?

We chatted casually as we walked to her apartment building. It was less than a five-minute walk, but we acted like we knew each other already.

She lived on the 7th floor, the top floor, and there was no elevator. I even stopped to rest once on the way up, and she looked at me with a smile from the floor above, saying, "You're so useless, a real man? Did you use too much last night?"

Damn it, we'd only chatted for a few minutes, were we really that close?

But she really didn't show any arrogance; in a word, she was fierce.

Her room was quite simple: just one room, a one-piece shower in the corner, a double-burner stove and sink next to it, a bed, a canvas wardrobe, a small bookshelf about a meter high, and the things I wanted were already on the desk—quite a pile. It also included three pots of different sizes, plates, bowls, chopsticks, soy sauce, and other necessities. There were several large bags and two unsealed cardboard boxes on the floor. "

Good deal for you." She bent down and rummaged through one of the cardboard boxes, pulling out a black bag. "Here!"

I took it, opened it, and saw a telescope—a high-powered telescope, almost brand new. "Why would I want this? It's cheap, so what's the point?" I live on the second floor, and there's not much of a view outside. If someone like her lives on the seventh floor, buying one to play with wouldn't be bad.

"It's free, and I don't even want the freebie?" She still smiled. Why? I was wary, afraid she was trying to sell me something else, or maybe she wanted to pick me up? Although she's a bit crazy, she's not bad-looking, at least she's a girl.

What? Why? "Take it if you want it. I don't need it anymore." I still didn't believe her. Give me any reason, otherwise how could I accept it? Actually, I quite like this kind of thing. "

You look like my brother."

I was stunned. She used such a cheesy pickup line on me!

I gave a wry smile. "Is your brother as ugly as me?" You're just like my mom!

She wasn't annoyed, saying, "Why are you talking so much nonsense? Just take it." She kicked one of the bags on the ground a couple of times and said, "Take a look at this, do you want it?"

I almost wanted to bury my head in it—a huge pile of flashy but useless junk. A large Chinese knot, a pen holder, a portable iron, a folding umbrella, unused tissues, two small plush toys, a small vase, unopened laundry detergent, a stack of new rags, two small rugs, a CD case, a small tripod, three or four picture frames, an electric kettle, a coffee maker, and a wad of USB cables, network cables, and some other kind of cable, a small cordless phone, etc. There were indeed some useful things in there, so I asked her how much the electric kettle, umbrella, and coffee maker cost. She said twenty euros. I said, "Buying everything new would only cost thirty." She put a hand on my shoulder and said seriously, "Twenty is twenty.

But if you take everything in this bag without throwing anything away, it'll only be fifteen!"

I was stunned!

But I still couldn't resist the temptation. Deal.

From her seventh-floor apartment (which doesn't have an elevator) to my second-floor apartment. A ten-minute subway ride in between. I made three round trips, and then two more the following night. Around 11 p.m. the next night, on my last subway ride home, she called to say that the person who wanted to buy her microwave for 20 euros had stood her up because a supermarket had an ad for a promotion next week—brand new microwaves for only 29.9 euros. Another bargain for me! 15 euros, anyone?

I succumbed to temptation again. I finished my sixth round trip around 1 a.m. and collapsed onto the bed.

12.

Honestly, after spending a fortune on this pile of junk and putting it all in the house, and tidying it up, it actually started to look like a home. For those ten days or so, I spent every day after school tinkering with this and that, just like living a simple life. I didn't video chat with my girlfriend, but I sent her several photos, and she immediately thought I was good at managing a household. She said she really wanted to live in a little apartment like that with me. I understand; her company gave her a nearly 100-square-meter apartment for free. Although it wasn't a gift, as long as she worked at the company, she could use the apartment indefinitely. She also spent some money to make the apartment feel very cozy, but she still cried on the phone many times, saying she was cold at home alone and wanted me to come back and keep her company. She even blamed me for lying to her that I was only going to England for a year, but now I've been in France for a year and only just started my master's program. She said I'd have to wait another year! It made my heart ache, and I immediately said I'd go back to see her during my next holiday. She said she'd come back for a month, then go back for another six months before going back to China completely, and that I shouldn't waste money like that.

In those two days, I received two emails almost simultaneously. One was from my old flame W, who had been doing training near Paris for six months, and the other was from my girlfriend. After our passionate three-day trip with W in northern France, we hadn't been in much contact, only occasionally exchanging emails and making a few phone calls. In our calls and emails, it was as if nothing had happened; we didn't exchange anything beyond what ordinary friends would say. Maybe there was never any real affection between us, only passion. She emailed me saying her training was basically over and she was planning to join a tour group to Italy early next month, spend a few days in Paris in the middle of the month, and then return home. She asked if my place was okay for her to stay for a few days.

Just as I was about to reply, overjoyed, that it was no problem, I first checked my girlfriend's email. She said my mother had told her that her aunt's daughter, Xiao K, had just graduated from high school and was coming to France to study next month at a business school in Lyon. Because it was all taught in English, she hadn't learned a single word of French. Hearing from my mother that I was in France, she insisted that I make sure to help Xiao K with her arrangements. I'll pick her up from the airport first, then let her stay in Paris for three or four days. On one hand, I'll help her get acquainted with French life—how to use the subway, go to the supermarket, buy groceries, use a mobile phone, and so on. On the other hand, I'll wait for Xiao K, a classmate I found online who will be attending a business school—a girl flying from Beijing to Paris. After this girl arrives in Paris, I'll pick her up from the airport, take them both to the train station, buy them train tickets to Lyon, and see them off. This girl has already found someone to rent an apartment in Lyon, so Xiao K can share it with her. Damn, this is a huge task!

Where did this Xiao K even come from? Later, I called my mom and found out that I had seen her once when I attended a cousin's wedding when I was in college. She was still in elementary school then, a little girl. She sat next to me at the wedding banquet. I don't remember what she looked like, just that she was a chubby girl who ate a lot. She must have failed her college entrance exams and paid to get a fancy job. If she has money, she should go to England or America. Why come to France to take English classes? I really don't understand.

I noticed that the timing of this girl's arrival seemed to conflict with W's arrival. What should I do? After coordinating, I immediately replied to W, saying that my cousin would be staying with me in the middle of the month, and that she could come to Paris at the beginning of the month to visit and leave her luggage at my place. I could also cancel her lease a few days early to save some money for my rent. After arriving in Paris, I planned to tour the city first, then take a tour to Italy a few days later, and return home directly from Paris.

As it turned out, I was wise. Three days after W went to Italy, that brat K arrived in Paris. If the schedule had been reversed, W and I wouldn't have had a single day together.

To prepare for W's arrival, I dug out my nearly expired ginseng capsules and took one capsule twice a day for over a week. During those days, I was incredibly energetic, never daydreaming in class, and never late, which surprised the few girls in my class who were used to my tardiness. From two days before W arrived until she left for Italy, I took two pills every morning, so for more than a week, my little brother was mostly erect. I even changed to a thicker pair of jeans to cover it up. What's worse, I had a nocturnal emission, which I hadn't experienced in a long time. I felt so bad looking at my hard underwear that morning. What a waste! Couldn't I have just waited a couple more days?

Being a man is really not easy!

W arrived at Paris Saint-Nazaré train station in the morning. It happened to be the first weekend of the month, and the museums were free. After helping her carry her two suitcases, one big and one small, home, I immediately went out again. At the metro station, I bought her a metro ticket, explained the route, and then made an excuse that I had class in the afternoon to go home. On the way to my house, we were as polite as any ordinary classmates, without the slightest hint of ambiguity. Her gaze wasn't exactly cold, but it lacked any warmth either. Suddenly, I didn't want to go shopping with her anymore, and I really didn't want to. We went to the Chinese supermarket in Meili City, bought some cooked food and a bottle of 9 euros of red wine, and went home. Now I think I can tell the difference between good and bad red wine, so I usually buy AOCs over 5 euros, and I've gained some knowledge about wine regions. However, this 9 euro Mouton Cadet is still quite expensive; it was my first time buying one.

W returned at 8 PM. When she hadn't come back by 7 PM, I thought she was lost. I didn't call her, though, and just enjoyed some red wine by myself at the small table in the living room. I was using stemmed glasses I bought from L.

As soon as she got back, I microwaved a few cooked dishes. She washed her hands and sat down cross-legged on the small sofa, while I sat on L's two small rugs. We clinked glasses twice to wish her success in her training, and then we started eating. There were quite a few dishes, and I hadn't cooked rice, so we ate slowly. By 10 PM, the red wine was almost finished, and we were still talking about pointless things, raising our glasses whenever there was an awkward silence, or exchanging a few compliments.

Then she suddenly asked me, "Is it really your cousin coming?"

I said yes. "You little rascal, how about I show you your emails?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted it. Those were emails from my girlfriend; who knows what she'd think if she saw them? Although I didn't really care what she thought. She said, "Why would I look at your emails? Just come on." I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was also secretly pleased; she was a little jealous, wasn't she?

She asked again, "Is she really your cousin?" I said yes, she's from my aunt's side. Actually, she's my cousin's wife; we're not related by blood. But of course, I couldn't say "cousin." I added, "You can look at my emails."

She said, "No need. I was thinking you didn't want me staying at your house." Hearing that, I felt a surge of joy; she really was jealous.

She said with a sigh of relief, "Okay then." She proactively raised her glass and said, "Let's finish this last bit," and downed it in one gulp, nearly a third of the glass of red wine. I was planning to sip it slowly, but now I had to gulp it down too.

She stood up and said, "You clean up the leftovers, I'm going to take a shower. You tidy up the bed too." She then pulled out a large bag and went into the bathroom.

I dumped all the leftovers into the trash bag, quickly washed the two bowls and the glass, and was still pondering what she meant by "tidy up the bed"—did she mean to make another sofa bed, or something else?

I didn't dare do much, just gathered the clothes on the small bed and made the bed. I turned off the main light and switched to the bedside lamp. I was burying my head in the closet looking for my pajama bottoms when she came out of the bathroom, drying her long, black hair, wearing only a bath towel. Little JJ jumped up immediately. " You

should go take a quick shower too," she said. I quickly showered and came out. I walked up to her wearing only my underwear. She was already sitting on the bed, the blanket covering my chest. She glanced at the bulging middle of my underwear and asked, "Why didn't you come with me to the museum? You told me you were going to school this weekend?" I realized, oh yeah, I'd given myself away. So I said, "Actually, I was doing a project with my classmates, just copying their class notes." She said, "Paris is great, even the copy shops near the school are open on weekends." I was speechless. " Okay, enough making things up, I'm just lazy. Stop pretending!" She didn't intend to delve deeper. "Come here." I took a step forward, and she reached out and pulled down my underwear, Little JJ sprang out. "Let me see if you've used it recently." She grabbed my testicles with one hand and started moving her penis with the other. The blanket around my chest loosened under her movements, revealing my two firm breasts. I leaned forward, wanting her to give me oral sex, but she didn't turn her head. She continued to vigorously stroke my throbbing, veiny penis, rubbing my testicles and saying, "Looks like you've taken good care of yourself. You have a lot of hair." "I like men with lots of hair." "Get on top." I sat in the blanket, not kissing her, but directly taking her firm breast into my mouth and sucking hard, circling her nipples. One hand stroked her soft pubic hair, occasionally brushing against her deeply hidden clitoris; but it never went any further down. Her hand, gripping my penis, never let go, slowly but firmly helping me masturbate. I kissed one of her breasts, then moved upwards, lingering on her neck and behind her ears for a long time, all the way to the back of her neck. She cooperated by lowering her head, exposing the back of her neck. I could feel she was enjoying it, because the movements of her hand gripping my penis noticeably slowed. When I kissed back down her neck to her throat and shoulders, she actively moved her shoulders towards me, her hips gently lifting. My hand was still stroking her pubic hair, but I pressed her clitoris more frequently. As I kissed her from her shoulder down to between her breasts, her navel, and her lower abdomen, her hand holding my penis loosened slightly. Before she could grab it again, I had already buried my nose in that small tuft of soft pubic hair. My fingers slid from her clitoris to the entrance of her vagina, which was already completely wet. Looking closely, I saw a glistening, pale pink opening, slightly parted, with a few small bubbles of vaginal fluid quietly flowing out. I straightened her body and slowly inserted my swollen glans into her vagina, rubbing it against the entrance, while one hand gently caressed her neck and earlobe. Two or three minutes later, I saw her slightly open eyes become hazy, and as her moans grew louder, I thrust my entire penis in all the way, each time all the way in, only pulling it out halfway before thrusting in and out. Her voice suddenly became louder. There was a hissing sound of water being squeezed out from below. I didn't stop or adjust the rhythm, thrusting straight into her core for four or five minutes each time. Her legs went from being spread apart on the bed, to wrapped around my waist, to being spread apart and upright on their own, and finally back on the bed, raising her waist and buttocks to meet my thrusts. A surge of heat coursed through my body to my penis. I didn't stop. I braced my hands on either side of her head and thrust forcefully. She was already pushed against the headboard, only able to turn her head to the side, her mouth open, emitting low sounds from her throat. Her hands gripped my arms, shaking rapidly in rhythm with me, as if encouraging me. I used all my strength to ejaculate wildly inside her, the bed frame thumping against the wall. She cried out, her head tilting back, completely still. I lay on top of her for about ten minutes before I came to my senses. She was still just breathing heavily, her mouth open, motionless. When my limp penis fell out, a large gush of white liquid gushed out, flowing down her buttocks. She quickly stood up, saying she couldn't get it on the sheets. I lay on my side, still holding my penis, and watched her walk into the bathroom. By then, the milky white semen had already flowed down her inner thighs and onto her calves. 14 She washed herself and came out, and I immediately went in to rinse off and lather up with soap. When I came out, I thought she was asleep, but she was sitting on the bed hugging my computer. "Going online?" I asked her. "No, I can't sleep." "Just checking what videos you have on your computer." I crawled into bed, moved my notebook onto myself, and started browsing the movie folder. She, with her sharp eyes, pointed to a folder labeled "Teaching Materials" and said, "Why did you put this in the movie folder?" I opened it for her, and she immediately understood—it was full of my treasured pornographic films. " Let's watch this one." "Let's find something good." I figured she wouldn't like anything too explicit, so I played her a self-shot video of Hilton in Paris. She still enjoys reading gossip news and immediately recognized it as a very famous online film. "I can't believe you even found this one." She seemed very interested. The film started with oral sex and a handsome American man's large penis. She looked quite surprised watching that huge penis penetrate Hilton's lower body with such powerful thrusting. It made it seem like she never watched porn, but watching porn in China is definitely not as convenient as it is abroad. It's not easy to download, and you have to buy DVDs to watch. It's not as widespread as it is abroad. The video wasn't long; the last part was a long oral sex scene. It sounded monotonous, but she didn't ask to fast forward. She kept staring at the big penis in the video, and her hand moved from my thigh to my penis, gently stroking it.

My penis looked quite impressive, it was erect again. She pretended to be surprised and said, "Handsome guys are quite powerful too!" I grinned and said, "Beautiful girls are quite seductive too!" As I spoke, I reached down and touched her genitals. Oh dear, it was all wet. I took my fingers out and looked; they were clear and transparent. She was a little embarrassed and said, "What are you looking at?" I didn't say anything, put down my notebook, and started fucking her as soon as I spread her legs. This time, I even paid attention to the nine shallow and one deep positions. She looked at me with great charm, moaning softly, and occasionally reaching down to touch my penis as I pulled it out.

I fucked her slowly and steadily, occasionally praising how tight and wet she was, and saying how good her skin was. She also asked me if it felt good and said she liked looking at my pubic hair. We chatted and fucked each other intermittently for a good thirty minutes. My arms started to ache, so I sped up and fucked for another ten minutes or so before I was about to ejaculate. Suddenly, she said I should watch her cum, and she reached out and pulled my penis out, quickly masturbating me. Less than half a minute later, I ejaculated powerfully with a very pleasurable spasm, spraying it onto her breasts. As I ejaculated a second time, she immediately inserted her slippery penis back into her vagina, saying, "Faster." Without her saying anything, I quickly started moving again, ejaculating about ten more times, and she convulsed a few times in response. After I finished, I continued thrusting for a minute or two until my penis completely shrank, at which point her convulsions finally stopped.

Both of them were exhausted and didn't even shower. They just wiped themselves with tissues from the bedside table, and she put a few more sheets underneath them before turning off the light and going to sleep.

I had class the next morning, but even after my phone alarm went off, I didn't move and continued sleeping. It wasn't until I vaguely felt a pleasant itching sensation down there that I woke up. Her head was buried in the pillow, and one hand was already arousing my penis. I said, "Your morning call service is really good. Let me call you too." I reached down and touched her vulva. She had already removed the tissues underneath, but I could still feel some scraps of paper stuck to it. I directly inserted my finger into her half-dry, half-wet opening and started rubbing it. I quickly felt her getting wet, so I knelt between her legs, moistened my penis with saliva, and slowly inserted it into her vagina. Her genitals were a darker color, and probably a little swollen. After a few gentle thrusts, I suddenly realized something was wrong—there was red stuff.

She said, "Oh no, she's on her period," pushed me away, and looked down to see a red patch on my glans.

"Really," she muttered, "annoying," and ran to the bathroom.

Naturally, we didn't do anything for the next three days, not even touching. I went to school during the day, and she went out. We had dinner together in the evenings and even watched a movie. We also booked a tour for her at a travel agency. On the morning of the fourth day, she packed her bags and left for Italy. As soon as she left, I got up and went to school. My main purpose was to ask the five Chinese girls in my class if any of them would let her stay one night when she returned from Italy in six days. Just one night was enough, because she was flying to Shanghai the next day.

I

really didn't want to host Xiao K, mainly because she bought a China Eastern Airlines ticket. I don't know if China Eastern is too stingy or if the French are bullying people, but they scheduled her flight to land at 6:30 am, which means she could normally be out with her luggage by 7 am. From my house to the airport, I have to take the subway and then transfer to a suburban express train, which will take at least an hour. Damn it, I have to leave before 6 am.

I packed up all the women's belongings in the house. Actually, W had packed most of them before she went to Italy. I carefully checked the house and there were no signs that any woman had been there, except for W's red suitcase. I'll just say it was left at my house by a friend. When W returned from Italy, that girl K had already stayed at my house for a few days, so I didn't let W come over. I sent her directly to my college classmate MM's house in the Jewish Quarter area south of Paris. I even treated MM to two meals at a Chinese restaurant in the 13th arrondissement.

When W came back, she was clearly unhappy because I told her my cousin had come, and she knew she had to stay somewhere else. But she still didn't say anything and politely said that she had troubled me again. Fortunately, she was quite tactful, and my classmate had a good impression of her, so she wasn't too much of a bother. After staying at my classmate's house for one night, the next morning, the international student I had booked online picked me up from my apartment building with my luggage, and then drove to the Jewish Quarter to pick up W.

However, W didn't let me see her off. She gave me a light hug and said there was no need, explaining that it would cost an extra ten euros to take her to the airport and bring her back. I didn't insist, closed the car door for her, rubbed my hand against her face, and said, "Take care." She hummed in agreement and said, "You too."

Then the car drove away.

Back to W's time in Italy, my girlfriend and I had a lot of online arguments about that brat, K. My mom even called repeatedly to remind me to take good care of my younger sister. She'd only just graduated high school and had never been away from home before. My mom asked if I remembered what Xiao K looked like. I said I didn't, and that I could just get a piece of paper with her name on it at the airport. My mom said, "That won't do. It's dangerous if others know her name. I'll send you a picture." This old lady's vigilance is a bit too much!

That evening, I received an email from my girlfriend forwarding a picture of her, reminding me that Xiao K would arrive early the day after tomorrow, and not to forget. I opened the attached photo and was stunned. That brat had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, dressed in summer clothes, with a slightly baby face and a small, full chest. With three rather plain-looking female classmates beside her, "pretty" wouldn't be an accurate word; she was simply youthful and radiant. My girlfriend said that last week, Xiao K and her mother stayed at my house for three days. My girlfriend helped her buy a lot of household items; they're practically like sisters now. She said Xiao K would keep an eye on me when she came over.

I replied that I wouldn't forget the day after tomorrow. She's not bad looking, much younger than you. Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of her? Lying in bed that night, I couldn't sleep. I'd had sex with W twice a few days ago and had been holding back ever since. Now that I had someone to fantasize about, I felt really hot down there. While masturbating, I thought, I definitely can't date this girl. Although we're not related by blood, our families know each other, and her family knows about my girlfriend. Even if she agreed, my mom, my girlfriend and her mom, plus Xiao K's mom, would kill me!

Thinking of this, Xiao JJ immediately slumped down. Oh well, I'll just feast my eyes.

The next morning, I received an email from my girlfriend saying, "If you can get him, go for it. It's good to keep the good stuff in

the family. If you have the guts, go ahead and try. He's over 18. Just don't come crying to me later."

I immediately replied with a letter like a guarantee, swearing I wouldn't lay a finger on Xiao K.

I had class in the morning, so I sat on the toilet, bored, waiting to poop. I stared blankly at the bathroom lock, but unfortunately, it wasn't an old-fashioned lock, without a keyhole like the ones from C brand. I guess I wouldn't get to enjoy the view.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off! I could change the lock! Damn it, when lust takes hold, I'm capable of anything. I've never even laid a light bulb in China, and now I'm facing a huge challenge. I even skipped pooping, pulled up my pants, grabbed a ruler, quickly measured the inside and outside of the door lock, and took a few pictures with my phone. Then I rushed out the door.

I ran to school for class, but there was no way around it; they took attendance. Luckily, today's class only took attendance before class started. It was a two-hour class, so I grabbed my bag and ran during the break. The afternoon class was a long lecture, so there wouldn't be attendance; I could just copy the notes.

Back in central Paris, I spent over an hour in a large building materials store near the Pompidou Centre. I spent ages asking the salesperson for help, showing them my sketches and the photos on my phone, before finally figuring it out. I originally only wanted to replace the lock cylinder, but now it seems I need to replace both side panels, both handles, and the entire central lock cylinder, otherwise they won't fit. Gritting my teeth, this is a long-term investment, so I bought it, including two screwdrivers, for nearly 40 euros. It hurts so much. 16

I didn't throw away the old door lock; I hid it. If I move, I'll have to change it back. I can't let the next tenant benefit from it. But maybe the next tenant won't be as lewd as me. No matter how much I tidy up, the house is still so small. We definitely won't be sleeping in the same bed tomorrow night. I found new sheets and duvet covers and put the old ones aside to use as a mattress pad on the small, worn-out sofa in the living room tomorrow. I only have one blanket, but luckily I have a sleeping bag. People usually use sleeping bags when they go out; I've never used one outside. I bought it for 13 euros on sale. I can't help it; I've realized I'm like a woman—I buy things cheaply, regardless of whether they're useful.

I was very excited that night and couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of C's body through the keyhole. It was as clear as looking at porn. Lush pubic hair, plump labia minora. The thought of this scene soon playing out again filled me with excitement. It's a pity the keyhole is too small; it's not enough to satisfy my craving. Thinking this, I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, removed the key from the lock, and hid it. Without the key, the usable area of the keyhole doubled! I couldn't help but feel smug. I

tossed and turned in bed like a pancake, not knowing how many times I finally drifted off to sleep. Just as I was beginning to dream, my phone alarm went off. I grabbed my laptop and put it on the bed, refreshing the flight information to see if there were any delays, hoping I could sleep a little longer. The estimated arrival time was 6:05. Crazy! Why is it flying so fast?!

I quickly got up. I hesitated for a moment, then quickly washed my hair; I'd shaved last night. First impressions are important, after all. I didn't forget to spray on some cologne, chewed a piece of gum, and went downstairs. It

was already a little past 7 when I arrived at the airport arrival hall. The screen showed that baggage claim had started half an hour ago. I ran to the passenger exit and looked around; it was full of Chinese people coming out. I specifically looked at the young women, but none of them looked like them. I regretted not printing out their photos to bring.

Just then, someone gently tapped my back from behind. I turned around, and there was the pretty girl from the photo right behind me, shyly and timidly calling out, "Brother."

That call made me feel incredibly happy. "Little K! What happened to your hair? It's a little different from the photo." When she saw it was indeed me, her tone immediately changed. "I've been out for 10 minutes! Why are you taking so long? If you hadn't come soon, I was going to cry."

"Sorry, sorry, it's too early, there aren't many subway lines." I quickly pushed the trolley next to her and headed out.

She followed, carrying a small red backpack, and casually hooked her arm around mine. As we walked, she said, "I heard haircuts are expensive in France, so my mom made me get a lot of haircuts, so I can go a year without one." Her hair was tied up, with only a small tail less than five centimeters long. "

Brother, you smell so good! Do all French men wear cologne?" She suddenly seemed very close to me. "You look much younger than in the photos. I think you look like a little old man." She called my girlfriend "sister."

We sat facing each other on the subway. She was curious about everything the whole way, asking questions non-stop. One minute she'd hear something my mom said, the next her sister's, and she kept talking about how beautiful the photos of Paris I'd sent her were, how pretty the girls on the street were, how well they dressed, and so on. When she got excited, she grabbed my hand and shook it, wanting me to show her around Paris.

We chatted and laughed so happily, and soon we were home. As soon as we entered, she paused, rushed into the inner room without even taking off her shoes, and turned back to me shouting, "That's it? That's it?" I asked, "What? That's it?" She asked, "Are there no other rooms?" I was stunned. She thought we were still at her house, a 200-square-meter apartment for the three of us.

Having never been to university, she had no idea that this was much more spacious than an eight-person dorm room. "

Let's go shopping," she suggested, sitting on my small bed and pulling out her camera from her backpack.

I boiled some water and sat down on the chair next to her, munching on some bread. "You need to rest a bit, right? You slept for over ten hours on the plane, I only slept three or four hours last night. You have class this afternoon." "

Oh right, you have class too. How about I go with you to listen in on the lecture and see the Parisian campus?" "No way, she'll be so disappointed if she sees the French university campuses." I said, "Forget it, I won't go to school, I'll go out with you." "

Really? You're skipping class? Won't the teacher say anything?" I said, "It's okay."

She was very happy and said, "Then you can skip this once, I won't tell your mom." "Okay?"

She went to the bathroom and we left. I was still a little nervous outside when she went into the bathroom. Luckily, she didn't mention there was no latch on the door or ask why it had this old-fashioned keyhole. She treated me like family, without any wariness whatsoever, or maybe the little girl just wasn't wary at all. Perhaps only a lecherous man like me would think of such a clever use for a keyhole.

I accompanied her to see the Eiffel Tower. As soon as we exited the subway, the majestic tower stood before us. She excitedly grabbed my hand and ran forward, urging me to hurry. At 5 pm on

the 17th

, we headed home. Since we didn't have anything to eat at home, we bought a large pizza for two at a nearby pizza shop. She was very excited in the shop, exclaiming how delicious it smelled. Watching the pizza slowly emerge from the oven, she was as happy as if she had made it herself.

After finishing the pizza at home, she said she was full and flopped onto my bed without saying a word. After a few minutes, she sat up and said, "Brother, I'm sleepy. I want to wash up and go to bed."

"You little pig, you eat and then sleep," I said, though I knew she wasn't jet-lagged yet. She should be sleepy by now. She took out toiletries and a change of clothes from her large suitcase and put them on the small sofa. I was cleaning up the pizza mess when my eyes fell on her panties under her pajamas on the sofa—the kind covered in cartoon characters. Sigh, she's almost 19, still like a child.

While she was rummaging through her suitcase, I was having a fierce internal struggle. Should I feast my eyes? She's my sister, though not really my biological sister, but she calls me "brother" so affectionately. How could I bring myself to do it? I was so conflicted.

In France, I wanted to fully experience the romantic life. She suddenly spoke up, saying, "Find a French boyfriend and experience it. Either don't go back to China and just stay here. Or you don't have to go back either, and after I've experienced French men, we can get married and live together in France."

"Are you crazy? I'm your brother!

You're not my biological brother, and my mom quite likes you. It's a pity you're with my sister, otherwise I would be with you. Am I prettier than my sister? Hehe."

After saying that, she wiggled her hips in a flirtatious manner, smiled cutely, and took her clothes into the bathroom. Her words immediately made me decide. She's just an ordinary girl, to me, just like any other girl. I immediately dried my hands. As soon as she closed the bathroom door, she turned off the living room light. A faint, radiating beam of light shot out from the bathroom door lock.

After the rustling of a plastic bag inside, I heard the toilet seat lower. I stood at the doorway, staring at that wicked little eye—truly, evil thoughts took hold! Gritting my teeth, I crouched down.

At first, I didn't dare get too close, but I could vaguely see someone moving in the lock. I slowly pressed my eye against the lock, gently resting my glasses on the metal panel of the lock, making only a very slight sound. She was undressing with her back to the door, placing her clothes one by one on the toilet seat to the left. The sound I'd just heard was from her lowering the toilet seat to place her clothes.

My bathroom isn't as well-designed as C's, haha, from a voyeur's perspective, it's not.

Pulling the bathroom door open, there's a large mirror on the inside, about 60 centimeters high. I usually use it as a full-length mirror when the bathroom door is open. Directly opposite the bathroom door is a small washbasin with a small mirror on it. Unlike C's place, where the toilet is directly opposite the door. To the left of the washbasin is the toilet, and to the right is the shower stall, which is just a small table with a curtain drawn.

When I looked inside, she had already taken off her trousers, revealing a large, cartoonish rabbit holding a toilet plunger printed on the back of her underwear, which made me both laugh and cry. Then she took off her shirt, and I could only see her lower back. A few seconds later, she quickly pulled the cartoon rabbit off, revealing a very white, large buttock. Actually, her buttock wasn't big, but she had a bit of baby fat, the kind of cute plumpness, so she had two dimples on the upper sides of her buttocks. I don't know the academic term, but those two small fleshy indentations really did look like dimples, very cute. Her skin was very white, almost pearly white.

Because her buttock was a bit chubby, I couldn't see her genitals from behind. I waited for her to turn around, but to my disappointment, she went straight to the right into the shower room. She pulled the curtain, and the sound of rushing water filled the air. I stood up, feeling both disappointed and unsatisfied. Only then did I realize that this time, little JJ was obediently curled up, showing no reaction whatsoever.

I turned on the lights with a heavy heart, tidied up the things on the living room floor, slowly unfolded the small, worn-out sofa, folded the sheets from the inner room and put them on top, and took out the sleeping bag, unfolded it, and tossed it onto the sofa. Lying on the sofa, it was a bit small; I vaguely felt my bottom could touch the ground. Looking at the energy-saving light bulb above, I felt a wave of frustration. It seemed my 40-euro investment from yesterday had gone down the drain. I didn't properly research the investment environment beforehand, so I can only blame myself for investing blindly. It's like a penniless bourgeois trying to be sophisticated, skipping cheap hotels and insisting on spending more money for a room with a view. Now look what's happened—I spent the money and didn't see any view at all. I'm even considering taking the lock off the door tomorrow and returning it to the hotel for a refund.

The sound of water inside stopped. I got up from the sofa and squatted at the bathroom door again, wanting to confirm whether my investment had been a complete failure.

A moment later, the shower curtain was suddenly pulled open. A white, plump butt appeared before my eyes again. The butt was very pretty, but 40 euros—wasn't that a bit too expensive? She had already dried herself off and was standing in front of the sink, making a series of slapping sounds, probably applying some skincare product to her face. I stared at her two dimples for two minutes, but nothing new happened, so I was about to call it quits. Just then, she slowly turned around, her lower body right in front of my eyes!

My eyes widened, and my hand on the doorframe went limp. With a thud, my forehead slammed hard against the door. The sound startled me, and I instinctively sat back on the floor. I heard her shout from inside, "What are you doing?!"

I

sat on the floor, terrified. She was still yelling, "I'm asking you! Where is she?" Sitting on the floor, one hand still on the sofa mattress, I answered her in a voice so loud it almost echoed, "I'm making the sofa bed!"

"Oh, I thought you were demolishing the house!" Hearing her answer, I breathed a sigh of relief, wiped away non-existent cold sweat, and asked her, "What are you doing?" As soon as I said that, I froze. Damn it, she was taking a shower! What was there to ask? Luckily, I didn't ask, "What are you doing behind the door?" "

I'm done showering, putting on a face mask." Listen. She deliberately slapped her face, making a "slap slap" sound.

No wonder she turned around; she was putting on a face mask in front of the large mirror behind the door. I composed myself and quietly climbed back to the doorway to press my face against it.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Little K had no pubic hair! A flood of words rushed through my mind: bald, rare, a jinx, underdeveloped…

I remembered reading an erotic novel where the author said he had slept with countless women, hundreds of prostitutes, and had never seen a truly bald woman; the occasional one was artificially created. Could Little K have shaved it herself?

Not even 20 years old, no boyfriend yet, why shave her pubic hair?

In the less than ten minutes she was wearing a face mask, I probably didn't even blink. What kind of pubic area is that? I guess only one in a thousand, one in ten thousand women don't grow pubic hair, right? I suddenly remembered the email my girlfriend sent me. I said I wanted to pick up a girl, and she confidently said, "Go for it if you dare!" So that's what she meant! I suddenly understood. Then she couldn't have shaved it herself. Isn't it said that anyone who sleeps with a white tiger (a male prostitute) will either die or be seriously injured? I'm a little scared. But, I've never heard of looking at a white tiger bringing bad luck, right?

In the limited time I had, I carefully examined this pubic area less than 20cm away from me. It seems there is still hair, although it's downy, but it's noticeably longer and darker than the surrounding hair. Although most of them were less than half a centimeter long, there were no more than 10 perfectly straight, uncurled hairs, each nearly a centimeter long, above the small slit near her vulva. So, how could she not be considered a "white tiger" (a woman with no hair)? Before I could savor the sight, she turned around, playfully presenting her white buttocks to my face.

She bent over and washed her face at the sink. Needless to say, this was the only time I got to observe her vulva. I gripped the doorframe with both hands, my nose and one side of my face pressed tightly against the door. This is exactly like the so-called "young and beautiful vulva" I saw online. There's practically no pigmentation, only slightly yellowish compared to the white buttocks next to it. Perhaps the pores there are larger, causing different light reflection and creating a visual color difference.

The vulva looks like a white steamed bun with a slit in the middle, with only a tiny bit of the labia minora showing. The entire vulva is tightly closed, not a single hair visible. Unfortunately, the anus, which must also be very beautiful, isn't showing at all.

Little K was startled when she came out of the bathroom. I was lying on the sofa bed looking at the computer, and the sofa bed was right across the bathroom doorway. When she pushed the door open, she brought out a pleasant scent, which I took as the scent of a virgin and sniffed hard. She stepped on my butt and said, "Poor thing, you're so nice to me. Why don't you come and squeeze in with me?"

I didn't even look up and said, "No need, you should rest. You must be exhausted." I thought to myself, "How can you be considered a 90% 'white tiger' (a term for a woman who is sexually active but physically weak)? I don't have that kind of 'power' to fight you. Besides, if my girlfriend finds out, she'll definitely find out too, and then Little K's mom will cut me up."

Little K was very touched and immediately straddled my waist, saying, "You're so nice, let me give you a massage." She pretended to massage me a couple of times and then got up. She yawned, got onto the small bed in the inner room, and less than five minutes later, she was snoring softly.

I rolled over and lay there, feeling strange that Little JJ hadn't gotten up even once all night. Perhaps it was also deeply ashamed of not being a Azure Dragon, hiding in its fur, too embarrassed to come out. Although I was a little sleepy, it was still early, and I didn't want to

sleep

yet. I took my notebook to the inner room, placed it on the small desk, and opened MSN to chat with someone. Little K was sleeping soundly beside me. She was wearing Disney floral pajamas and a large white t-shirt with three Mickey Mouse sons printed on the left chest. It was still quite warm, so she wasn't covered by a blanket, only draped a corner over her stomach, her legs spread wide open like a child's.

I sat in the folding chair, watching her with mixed feelings. Her face was rosy, though not small, just a bit childlike. Fine downy hairs clung to her cheeks, like fuzzy peaches, their redness showing through—so tender and delicate. Her hair was messy and scattered across her forehead. Her eyelashes were long, somewhat like those of the female Mickey Mouse from Disney, if I remember correctly. Her lips were slightly parted, occasionally trembling. I really, really wanted to kiss her. Of course, I wasn't that bold.

Lying there, her nipples were clearly visible beneath her white t-shirt. Even lying down, the outline of her breasts was discernible—well-developed! Why wasn't her genitals developed? I wondered.

Suddenly, my notebook made a loud noise, startling me. I turned my head and saw it was a friend sending me a notification ringtone on MSN. I quickly turned off the computer sound, but the ringtone still woke K up. Luckily, she lazily rolled over and said, "Brother, aren't you going to sleep yet?" and then fell silent. As she lay on her side, the middle part of her white t-shirt was tucked into her cleavage, and it was really quite large! At least a B cup, if not a C. Sigh, typical uneven development!

I turned around and emailed my girlfriend. I had already called Xiao K's mom from a public phone booth at the airport using my Chinese SIM card to let her know I was safe, but I hadn't told my girlfriend yet. I briefly described what happened today, even praising Xiao K as a Sailor Moon. I shamelessly said that I would sleep with her that night and would definitely let her experience what it's like to be a woman, and other such lewd things. Since my girlfriend and I had basically never successfully enjoyed intimacy in China, I often acted arrogantly and boasted about forcing myself on her or wanting to sleep with some other beautiful woman. My girlfriend knew I was just being cheeky and never got angry. Sometimes she would even suggest how I should do it. We often hugged and laughed happily about this. I know my girlfriend isn't quite mature sexually yet, but she's a really good girl, just like my little tank top—thoughtful and understanding.

I slept soundly tonight, without fantasizing about anyone like usual, and without playing with my penis. I thought about my plans for the next few days and then went to sleep; I definitely didn't sleep much last night.

At 6 a.m., I was woken up by Xiao K. She went to the bathroom, got water, and walked back and forth beside me. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair as she walked. When she walked past me again, I suddenly grabbed her ankle, startling her. She laughed and squatted down to hit me. I pulled her, and she ended up sitting sideways on the sofa, patting my face and saying, "Brother, your snoring is so loud, it's comparable to my dad's!" Luckily, I'm immune, or I'd go crazy. "Get up, get up!"

she said, pinching my cheek. "Your face is so oily, I can't even pinch it!" Meanwhile, her other hand scratched my stomach and lower back, trying to tickle me. Instinctively, I bent over to avoid her hand. But this movement caused her hand, which was randomly scratching my stomach, to grab my morning erection firmly. Before she could react, she turned her head away, immediately flung her hand away, and turned back, blushing, saying, "Get up!" before getting up and going into the bathroom. It felt like I had deliberately shoved my penis into her hand, which made me quite embarrassed. While she

was in the bathroom, I went online on MSN to chat with my girlfriend. As soon as she saw I was online at work, she sent me a message: "Did you have a good time last night?"

I said, "Yeah, it was amazing! Several times!"

She asked again, "How did it feel? Anything special?"

I said, "It was really exciting. She's really good at it, her breasts are huge, her butt is super soft, and she's super tight down there!"

She continued, "What else is special?

Women are all pretty much the same, what else is special? Does she have an extra pair of breasts?"

She sent a smiley face and said, "You silly girl, you're fantasizing again! Don't think I don't know, you're so timid! I still trust you, you definitely didn't do anything to her."

Hearing this, I knew my girlfriend knew that Xiao K had relatively little pubic hair. She wanted to test me with this, haha, she only knew she was a virgin after sleeping with me!

I dropped Xiao K off at the Louvre entrance to queue, gave her a few instructions, and then went to school. She had enough time to shop all day; she had two classes at school, and attendance was taken. I wanted to pass all my exams in my first year and couldn't miss too many classes.

I'd pick her up at 6 PM. After picking Xiao K up on the afternoon of the

20th

, we took the subway for a few stops to see the Arc de Triomphe. As she walked hand-in-hand with me on the Champs-élysées, I felt a warm glow inside, and also a little proud. Walking with a girl like Xiao K on the street did give me a bit of face. I hoped we'd run into someone I knew. But Xiao K didn't see it that way. She kept showing me this handsome guy, that handsome guy, as if I wasn't a man at all, completely disregarding my feelings. So, I ruthlessly showed her foreign women, constantly comparing them to her. "This one has bigger breasts than you," "This one has a better figure," "That one's a real woman," or "Her waist is thinner than yours." Even when she saw a Japanese woman, who seemed unremarkable, I said, "Don't judge a book by its cover, she's good at serving people, and she's really good in that area!"

This actually made K so angry she shook off my hand and walked away.

I used my old tricks for coaxing my girlfriends, catching up to her, putting my hand on her waist and showering her with sweet words, ending with, "Let me treat you to Western food." This time she immediately took my arm, smiling like a flower, "I love Western food!"

I pointed to a large M-shaped woman and cautiously asked, "McDonald's isn't Chinese food, is it?"

Her mouth twisted in anger.

When she stormed off to McDonald's, I grabbed her hand and rushed across the street as the pedestrian light turned green. I knew that on this street, besides burger and fries shops, only this Brussels chain restaurant called Leon was affordable for me. It cost

35 euros for the two of us, plus two glasses of red wine. Little K ate with great satisfaction, her cheeks flushed as she looked at me, saying she wished we could be together like this every day. Damn it, I thought to myself, if it were like this every day, I'd be bankrupt and back home in less than six months; if it were like this every day, my dad would beat my leg into nunchucks; if it were like this every day, my girlfriend would be devastated…

I couldn't encourage this kind of thinking in the little girl, especially her wicked thoughts about me. I immediately started telling her about the stress of studying in France, the difficulty of the exams, and the horror of the proctoring; then there were the trivialities of life, the burden of expenses, and the expectations of my family; finally, I specifically mentioned my girlfriend and our strong relationship.

She immediately deflated. On the way home, she kept sighing and asking me how I was going to manage alone in Lyon.

But before we even got home, she forgot all about it and cheerfully said she absolutely had to treat me to dinner tomorrow and asked me to find a place. Sigh, she really doesn't cry until she sees the coffin.

After getting home, Little K wanted to write an email to her classmate, probably wanting to show off by posting some photos she'd taken over the past two days. I went to take a shower first. While showering, I remembered that Little K would be coming to shower again soon, and my penis, which hadn't been active for days, immediately became erect. Since I had already set a rule for myself—I absolutely couldn't get involved with Little K—it was understandable to take a few extra glances. But I couldn't just keep looking at her white buttocks! If some other woman came later, this 40-euro door lock couldn't just let me see her buttocks. As

I dried myself off, I looked around the small bathroom, which was only a little over one square meter, with my erect penis. There was no window, and the bottom of the door had only a gap of about one centimeter, so I definitely couldn't see through it. Even sticking a small mirror in wouldn't work; the door was a bit thick and wouldn't reflect anything. Actually, all I needed was a small, rotatable camera like the ones used by special forces in movies—that would be a huge investment! So, this is the only way to see in through the keyhole. But I can't exactly move the toilet to face the lock. With no other option, I stared at the long mirror behind the door and came up with a desperate plan. I

took down the small mirror hanging above the sink, grabbed a few plastic bottles of shampoo, soap, and other toiletries from the sink, and gently tossed them all from about half a meter high to the ground. With a loud crash, the small mirror shattered into three pieces.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Little K's worried voice came from outside. Soon, she knocked on the door and asked, "What's wrong, brother?"

I pulled on my shorts, shirtless, and opened the door. She seemed a little embarrassed to see me shirtless. I pretended to cover my chest with a towel and said I was trying to wipe the condensation off the mirror, but I accidentally knocked it off. "

Is the person alright? Did they get scratched?" She was quite concerned about me. It made me feel ashamed of my clumsy behavior. "

It's okay, it's okay, I was quick. Don't worry, I'll clean up, you can go online." Seeing that she didn't seem suspicious, I was quite pleased with this little investment. Because I knew that a mirror like that only cost a few euros. "

Okay, be careful not to cut yourself." After saying that, she ripped the towel off my chest and said, "What are you covering up for? There's nothing there!"

After I finished cleaning up and made sure there was no broken glass on the floor, I called to her, "You can take a shower now." She had just sent out a long email to a group and stood up to find some clean clothes.

After she went into the bathroom, I waited for about two minutes, figuring she wouldn't come out again after realizing she'd forgotten something. Then I turned off the living room light and squatted in front of the "evil cave."

Buttocks! It immediately reminded me of throwing knives.

I guessed she'd gone into the shower after that, and I was just about to relax and wait for her to put on her face mask before looking at her again, when she suddenly turned around—brushing her teeth! She was brushing her teeth in front of the mirror! I'm so clever, a small investment, a big reward!

I guess she was studying something on her face while brushing her teeth.

Those few pubic hairs were flattened and lying above her clitoris, and I could see a small fleshy growth above the slit that looked like a clitoris, but it was clenched too tightly. The keyhole was on one side of the mirror. If she stood too close, I could only see one side of her hip. So my optimal viewing distance was about 30 centimeters. Getting closer would allow for a clearer view, but it would be more difficult, requiring me to tilt my head.

She occasionally bent over to rinse her mouth while facing the sink. I seized those brief seconds to properly admire her fair vulva from behind. She was as beautiful as a little girl. How wonderful it would be to bury my face in it! Thinking of this, my penis finally managed to lift its head. But honestly, even if she were lying naked in front of me, I wouldn't sleep with her. There were too many reasons. Even disregarding the issue of her being a virgin, and her mother's scissors, she was still a virgin. I couldn't just sleep with her and then ignore it. Moreover, I had already begun to like this little girl from the bottom of my heart; therefore, I never wanted to use the unlucky term "white tiger" to describe Xiao K.

After all, with a few pubic hairs, she couldn't be considered a "white tiger."

For the next three days, I made good use of the opportunity I gained by breaking the small mirror to thoroughly appreciate Xiao K's genitals, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to describe it as a feast for the eyes. Although I still prefer girls with some dark pubic hair, because that makes it look like a lower body and arouses sexual desire, I extremely cherished this rare opportunity to see Xiao K's lower body. I thought that I would never have such an opportunity again, and that such a lower body could definitely be called a work of art.

Artworks shouldn't be licked, so even though I've seen Xiao K's genitals so many times, I've never masturbated.

The day after I returned from Italy at 21, after putting her in the car that was picking her up, my feelings were complicated. Actually, there wasn't a shred of love, not even a hint of affection, but just days before we were so intimate, and now it felt like the end of the road. It always felt strange. In fact, women are better at separating love and sex than men. When men and women without feelings have sex, men often develop a lot of dependence, but women are different. Once they know there's no future, they cut ties very decisively in their hearts.

Fortunately, Xiao K was at home, which quickly helped me temporarily shake off this unnecessary melancholy. Every day after class, I hummed a little tune on my way home, imagining myself watching some amazing abalone that night. Before I knew it, K had been staying at my house for five days. On the sixth day, I had no choice but to skip class again to pick up K's classmate, whom I'd never met before, from the airport. K said early in the morning that she had a stomachache and needed to pack her luggage, so she asked me to go to the airport alone, saying we'd talk after I got home.

Actually, I didn't want K to come with me. A round-trip airport ticket costs over ten euros; if she came with me, I'd have to pay! I'm such a calculating person! Besides, K wouldn't be able to carry any luggage. I'd rather she stay home and pack, and we could just put them on the train together in the evening. There are plenty of trains to Lyon; it only takes two hours, so there's no rush.

Little K didn't have a photo of her either, so I printed out an A4 sheet welcoming Little Q and waited at the airport passenger exit.

I wondered if it would be a dinosaur from the north. Many girls' eyes lingered briefly on my A4 sheet, but none of them did. When a fat dinosaur walked towards my A4 sheet, I almost wanted to run away. Luckily, she got closer, squinted to see the words on it, and walked away.

Just as my heart was pounding wildly, a long-haired, bespectacled woman with curly hair pushed a cart towards me with a very polite smile. Because of the fat dinosaur's contrast, I actually thought she was a beautiful woman, an intellectual beauty, but she didn't look like she was only a year or two older than Xiao K; she looked like she was two years older than me, probably because of her hairstyle.

I grabbed the stroller and asked if she was Xiao Q. Xiao K was tidying up at home, and I was her cousin. She said she heard from Xiao K that she had a cousin in Paris. She thanked me politely. She took something out of her pocket and clipped her hair back, carrying only a small bag as she walked beside me.

As I introduced her to things in France, regardless of how much she knew, I first reminded her of many things to be careful about in France, and even added that a beautiful girl like her should be even more careful when traveling alone.

I'm the kind of person who occasionally adds a few flattering remarks when I'm talking, subtly praising her. Less than half an hour later, before we even got home, we were already chatting away. Especially on the subway, when we were talking face-to-face, she was practically gesturing wildly as she spoke, having completely forgotten the intellectual air she projected through her frameless glasses. Chatting with young women like this is basically one of my specialties. I also try to appear quiet but thoughtful. Before we even got off the subway, she had already asked for my phone number.

After taking a second look at her on the subway, I realized she was just average-looking, nowhere near as attractive as Xiao K. When I asked, she said she was three years younger than me, but looked about my age. I even had to reluctantly compliment her, saying that if it weren't for her hairstyle, I would have thought she was a high school graduate! She even went so far as to say that I looked too young, so she got a more mature hairstyle to make me appear more grown-up.

Sigh, if she were a high school graduate, my little K would be in elementary school!

No matter how much she styles her hair, she can't look mature. Without me even asking, she gave a very detailed self-introduction. She dropped out of university in China after only two years. Mainly due to precocious puberty, she started dating in high school. She was originally in the top three of her class (that's what she said, but she didn't seem like it), but her grades plummeted, and she only got into a third-rate university. She even managed to get that boy from the next class into a vocational college. Luckily, they both got into universities in the same city, and they rented an apartment together in their second year. But her mother soon found out that she was still with that good-for-nothing boy, and had lured her out with the promise of a wonderful life in France, breaking up the young couple. However, judging from her tone, she seemed relieved; that boy also seemed like someone you couldn't rely on for life.

Her family was well-off, but her mother still hoped she could bring a foreign son-in-law home. I immediately seized the opportunity and said, "Don't rush. A pretty and sensible girl like you doesn't need to look around. French guys will definitely come looking for you. Just take your time choosing." When we got to her apartment building, I saw her 30 kilograms of luggage and asked if she wanted to leave it downstairs. I would go upstairs to carry K's luggage down so we could take a taxi to the train station to eat and buy train tickets, saving us the trouble of carrying it up and down again.

She actually said that the friend who was supposed to pick her up in Lyon was in Marseille tonight, had an internship interview tomorrow morning, and wouldn't be back in Lyon until tomorrow afternoon to pick them up and take them to their accommodation; could she and Xiao K squeeze in for the night?

I was speechless. I couldn't go to class tomorrow morning again! Lately, when I've been at school, those girls have all thought something was wrong with me, as if it's normal for me not to go to class. I can't skip any more, or I won't graduate!

I have to pretend to be very welcoming, saying how great it is, two beautiful girls are staying at my place tonight. But don't worry, I'll sleep in the living room. I guess she already sees me as a new kind of good guy, haha.

I used the intercom to grab Xiao K's bag, but when she came down, she hugged Xiao Q very warmly and chatted, saying she had a stomachache and actually pulled Xiao Q upstairs by herself. I had to carry one on my back and lift the other myself as I climbed up.

That evening, I ordered a pizza for two. I originally called the store to have it delivered, but the clerk said there was a buy-one-get-one-free promotion if I picked it up myself. Thinking I could snag a bargain, I told the two girls who were chatting enthusiastically that I was going downstairs to buy pizza. Little K happily said, "Since you're not leaving until tomorrow, let's have some red wine together tonight. It's the first time I've met Sister Q!"

Damn it! I shouldn't have gone downstairs to take advantage of the free pizza; I even bought some wine while I was there. I went downstairs feeling annoyed. While waiting for the pizza, I bought two bottles of red wine for a little over three euros from a nearby Arab-owned grocery store.

Surprisingly, the two girls had amazing appetites today. They quickly finished the two-person pizzas and the bottle of wine in no time. To make sure Q would take good care of K in the future, I clinked glasses with Q twice and exchanged many polite words. Q kept praising me in front of K, saying how lucky K was to have a brother like me, and K, emboldened by the alcohol, hugged and kissed me.

At K's insistence, a second bottle was opened, but she only drank one glass before becoming a little sluggish. Q, however, seemed perfectly fine, her face only slightly flushed. We each poured ourselves a full glass and then plugged the remaining half-bottle with the cork.

After finishing the pizza, K was also exhausted and went to bed without saying much. I told Q, "You should take a shower and rest; I'll clean up." Actually, after that half-bottle of red wine, I had already started to have designs on Q, especially when K went to bed. I thought, "I can feast my eyes again."

But Q said, "You shower first; I need to look for something in the suitcase. I don't even know where I put my change of clothes." I quickly tidied up the small table, grabbed my pajama bottoms, and went into the bathroom, thinking, "Whether you shower early or late , I'm going to watch you anyway.

" While showering, I imagined what Xiao Q looked like down there. She's probably quite voluptuous; she's been living with her boyfriend for a year, she's practically a mature woman by now. Seeing her wearing frameless glasses, I guess that's just for show. These days, girls all wear contact lenses. If she let loose, she'd be incredibly sexy. Xiao JJ was also actively participating in this fantasy, full of life.

After drying myself, I bent down to pick up the socks I'd taken off before showering, intending to lather them with soap.

Just as I bent down, I suddenly noticed two motionless dark figures in the gap under the door, about a centimeter deep. I paused for a moment, then carefully lay down on the damp floor, peeking through the crack in the door. Two knee-sized things... Could it be...?

I stood up, placed one hand on the light switch, and rested my head against the keyhole. I turned the bathroom light off for a second and then immediately turned it back on. In that brief second of darkness, I quickly glanced at the keyhole and then looked away.

Against the bright living room light, I clearly saw an eye through the keyhole! The feeling of

a 22-

year-old man discovering he's being spied on is completely different from a woman's; it's even a little bit of a sense of accomplishment. I was extremely happy; I never thought someone would look at my body. I couldn't let that little q's hard work lying there go to waste; I know how hard it is to lie there, haha.

Actually, if you want to see, just tell me. You can look however you want, why bother? I thought to myself happily. I decided to put on a good show.

First, I put on my socks in the sink. I was originally planning to use the soap next to it, but now I deliberately bent down and grabbed some laundry detergent from under the sink. The bending process was very slow, so that I positioned my hairy butt crack and testicles exactly against the keyhole. I even spread my legs slightly to make it easier for her to see. Sigh, it's actually more convenient to squat down to get the laundry detergent. I really went to great lengths!

After sticking my butt out for half a minute, I also took the opportunity to look down between my legs and into the crack of the door. Sure enough, the shadow was still there; I shouldn't perform like an idiot by myself when there's no audience. But Xiao Q is even more clueless than me; she didn't even think to turn off the living room light. She's

also bolder than me; Xiao K is sleeping in the inner room, and she might suddenly wake up at any time to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. This woman, when she gets horny, is much more ruthless than a man. I straightened up and washed the socks; then, repeating the same trick, I bent down again to grab laundry detergent and washed the underwear too, hanging them all on the clothes rack next to me. Foreplay complete, now for the exciting part. I turned around and, with my penis less than fifteen centimeters directly in front of the keyhole, started masturbating. In no time, my penis, which had shrunk by half while washing clothes, stood erect. As I masturbated, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, my eyes were fixed on the two faint shadows beneath the crack in the door, imagining her kneeling outside, her hands braced against the doorframe. That feeling was definitely more exciting than peeking at her.

To satisfy the audience's needs, I would occasionally change angles, showing my penis to Xiaoq from the front and side, and sometimes I would lift my penis up and touch my testicles, basically just cupping them in my hands for her to see; I would also touch my penis with my hands, alternating between the front and back, probably making her feel aroused and her juices flowing. But with Xiao K there, there was definitely no way I could have sex with her, and if I did, her attitude towards me would definitely be different. If Xiao K found out, she would be very unhappy and would definitely tell my girlfriend. It wasn't worth offending Xiao K and my girlfriend for a woman like this.

My penis, stimulated by both my hand and that eye, became very hard. I added some water and shampoo to the glans, creating a lather, and quickly started splashing around on it. I could almost hear Xiao q's panting outside the door. The urge to ejaculate came quickly, and my glans was swollen and red like an egg. Just then, a sudden rush of blood to my head, and another wicked idea struck me. I immediately stopped.

I turned around, cleaned my penis in the sink, put on my t-shirt, then went back to the door lock. I held my penis less than 5 centimeters from the keyhole, alternately stroking it with both hands. At the same time, I quietly pulled up my sweatpants to my knees.

Then, while vigorously masturbating with one hand, I lightly placed the other on the doorknob, leaning my shoulder against the door.

Suddenly, I lifted the doorknob and, with a lot of force but not too quickly, pushed the bathroom door open. I felt the door momentarily blocked by something, but I continued to push it open forcefully. Then, I quickly pulled my pants up from my knees and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Haha. It was Xiao q, sitting awkwardly on the floor after being slammed in the door. Her glasses were so badly knocked off that only one side was hanging from her ear. She was propping herself up with one hand, rubbing her forehead, which must have hurt terribly, with the other. Her skirt was pulled up to her thighs, and her face was even redder than when she was drinking. She managed to say one word, "I…," but couldn't finish. Her nervousness made me feel a surge of joy. Pretending not to know anything, I quickly knelt down and gently helped her put her glasses back on her nose. I gently removed her hand from her forehead, rubbed it a couple of times, and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were at the door."

She was so embarrassed she couldn't say a word, not even daring to look up. Taking one of her hands and placing the other on her slender waist, I helped her up. I let go of her hand, looked at her forehead, and said, "Thank goodness, you're not disfigured, otherwise I'd be in big trouble." Hearing this, she gave an awkward laugh and said, "It's okay, how could I let you take responsibility? Little K would kill me!"

The atmosphere improved a bit. Seeing the pajamas I'd found on her suitcase, I said, "I'm going online, you go take a shower." She obediently said "Okay" and went to get her clothes. I went straight into the inner room and sat down at the computer.

Little K hadn't changed her clothes and was already asleep. I figured it wasn't convenient to help her change, so I put her legs, which were draped over the edge of the bed, on top of her and covered her with a blanket. Seeing Little Q go into the bathroom, I kissed Little K's rosy, fluffy face. She didn't react at all and was sleeping soundly.

After browsing the internet for a while and writing two emails, I heard the water in the bathroom stop. I immediately grabbed a bottle of Centrum vitamins from the side and placed it near the foot of Xiao K's bed. I closed the bedroom door and came out. Now it was my turn to watch Xiao Q.

Of course, I didn't forget to turn off the living room light. Even when doing something bad, you have to use your brain. After all, a bad guy isn't the same as a fool.

I opened the shower curtain. Having what happened earlier, I was more careful this time. I didn't press my face against the door to look at the keyhole; instead, I stepped back about a meter and sat on the small, worn sofa, looking at the keyhole and the gap in the door from a distance.

First, I saw Xiao Q's shadow walking to the door through the crack. Then, I saw part of her body swaying in the keyhole, like her buttocks or hips. A few seconds later, an eye suddenly appeared in the keyhole. Haha, I guessed right! Xiao Q is really funny. It's pitch black outside, what can you see? I looked into her eyes from a meter away in the shadows, and a smile crept across my face. I wondered if she was a little disappointed that she hadn't noticed me peeking at her.

When she realized there was nothing suspicious, she straightened up and started fiddling around inside. I quietly climbed from the sofa to the bathroom door, carefully pressed my eye against it, and listened to the sounds coming from inside. If Xiao Q woke up, Jin Shi Er Kang would call the police.

After seeing Xiao Q through the keyhole, I did feel a little regretful that I hadn't taken advantage of the situation.

Xiao Q wasn't particularly attractive, and even looked a bit older than her age, but she had a really good figure. She was about the same height as Xiao K, but didn't have much excess fat; her waist was slim, and her buttocks were slightly upturned. Her pubic hair was fairly standard-length, not very large, but very thick and dark. The hair was also quite long; after a shower, a small, shiny black patch of pubic hair stood upright, which looked quite interesting from the side. Because her pubic hair was more concentrated and she was relatively thin, her thighs weren't as tightly closed as Xiao K's, so from the front, you could see a fairly clear pubic area. Xiao Q's labia weren't too big or too small, just peeking out slightly, and the color was a bit dark. I don't know if it's because her skin isn't very fair or because she's had sex too much. Ever since I saw W's lower body, I know that pubic color doesn't have much to do with how much sex you have; there's not much comparison between people. But for the same person, the more sex they have, the darker the color becomes, that's a fact.

Her buttocks were pretty good, not very fair, but still quite firm, slightly upturned, which was rather alluring. I guess it would be really enjoyable to fuck her while looking at her buttocks from behind. Xiao Q didn't seem to be wearing a face mask, so she didn't spend much time in front of the mirror, but she brushed her teeth for quite a while. Although she didn't bend over too much while brushing her teeth, just bringing her head closer to the sink, that small bend still exposed quite a bit of her labia majora. The color was much darker than the surrounding skin, especially the labia minora, which weren't very exposed, but were quite dark. There were some hairs on her labia majora, not many, but a bit long, extending down to a little below her anus. Unfortunately, she didn't bend over enough, so I could only tell that her anus was also quite dark, but I couldn't see it clearly. Later, she also used the laundry detergent from under the sink to wash clothes, but not in such an exaggerated way as I did; she squatted down to get it, so I didn't get a chance to observe her dark anus again.

To avoid a repeat of Xiao Q's embarrassing situation, I stopped and went back to the inner room as soon as I saw her start getting dressed. When Xiao Q came into the room, I was seriously surfing the internet at the table.

After her shower, she looked a bit fairer, and her wet, curly hair looked quite nice. As soon as she entered the room, I stood up, ready to let her go to sleep.

She said, "No rush, no rush, you go online, I don't want to sleep right now." I said, "You can lie down and rest for a while, you're jet-lagged, you'll get sleepy soon."

As I walked out of the small room, I complimented her, saying, "You look quite pretty after your shower." She snorted and said, "You're not pretty if you don't shower?"

Pretty, pretty, but even prettier with wet hair. I teased her and then went to the living room, closing the door behind me.

The next morning, I was still sprawled out on the sofa with one leg on the floor when I was woken up by the sound of Xiao K taking a shower. When I opened my eyes, I saw Xiao Q boiling water on the kitchen stove at my feet. She was staring at my sweatpants, which were visibly erect from morning erection, while waiting for the water to boil. I startled her when I opened my eyes, and she immediately looked away to find a cup.

In the afternoon, after buying tickets at the train station and loading their luggage onto the train, they came down to say goodbye before it departed. Xiao K hugged me tightly and said, "You must come to see me and Sister Q!" I said, "I definitely will, and you will definitely come to Paris often." Then I told Xiao Q, "You're welcome to come see me next time too!" I emphasized the word "see" a little more this time. Little Q's face seemed to turn slightly red, as if she were subtly replying, "You really welcome me when I come to see you again?"

I smiled and said, "Of course, just like when you came to see me yesterday." Little Q really blushed and unconsciously touched her forehead.

Little K chimed in, "My brother certainly welcomes you! He's been saying you're pretty all morning!" I gritted my teeth inwardly, thinking, "What nonsense is this brat talking about? When did I ever say she was pretty?" Of course, I didn't say it aloud. But Little K was overjoyed to see me staring at her intently. Finally,

there

was someone else at home; she could sleep in her own little bed and go to school on time again. To make a good impression on my teachers, I asked one or two questions after class for almost every subject. French teachers usually left as soon as class ended, but I still actively seized every opportunity to ask. Fortunately, the teachers were very enthusiastic and patiently explained things to me in detail in the hallway or office. I didn't really understand their explanations, but I still nodded frequently to show I understood. Sigh, it was all to become a familiar face so I could have an easier time during exams. My

normal routine didn't last long. One day in class, an unfamiliar number called my phone. It looked familiar, but I didn't have that person in my phone. I didn't answer. After class, as I walked towards the subway station, I dialed the number back. It was a girl's voice: "It's L." "

Which L?" I didn't recognize her voice, and I racked my brain but couldn't recall.

She's the one who sold you a lot of things, like a microwave and stuff. Don't you remember? "

I remember, I remember now. How are you? Enjoying the sea view every day, huh?" I was surprised she called. It's been almost a month since I bought her things, and I haven't contacted her since. "

No, I'm still in Paris." She sounded very downcast. I can't quite remember what she looks like anymore, but I remember her as very sunny and lively. I quickly feigned concern, "What's wrong? Missing Paris?"

It turns out that after learning she had been accepted by the school, she packed her things in Paris while contacting friends there to help her find an apartment. She was also looking for someone to fill in her current place in Paris. After nearly a month, she still hadn't received a confirmation letter from the school. When she called again, they said they had already sent it, registration was over, and classes had started about ten days ago. Because she didn't register, her spot was taken by someone else. With no other option, she went through a lot of trouble and transferred back to her original school in Paris. She only finished the registration process there yesterday

. "If I can't go, I'll just stay in Paris and try again next year," I said, offering her a brief word of comfort. I still didn't understand why she called me.

I'm currently living in my old place. She continued, sounding a bit hesitant, "So, so..."

I wondered if she wanted me to become her brother, taking care of her and comforting her? I didn't have time for that. I waited for her to continue.

She cautiously asked, "So, could you return everything I sold you?"

My legs went weak!

It wasn't about the money; just think about how many times she climbed up and down her seven-story apartment without an elevator—it was terrifying! And carrying it back, up and down! I firmly refused her request, saying that the things were already used and had become part of my pile of belongings; they were practically worn and dirty.

She wasn't angry at all, saying, "I knew you'd refuse. I gave you so many things, and you're so stingy. I even treated you like my brother." "Fine, pretend I'm blind." She hung up!

I panicked immediately; she'd never said that to me before. I yelled into the phone, "Don't hang up! Don't hang up!" Then I explained to her that it was just too much trouble to move everything. She said that she had bought everything herself over two years, carrying it all up to the seventh floor by herself. Buying new things would be expensive, and she couldn't possibly move so much stuff all at once.

Hearing her plight, my heart softened, and I told her, "Never mind, I've already used everything so much, I won't return it. You can buy new ones yourself, and I'll pay a third of the price, okay?" She thought for a moment and said a fifth would be fine. I thought, "You're quite polite," and said, "It's settled then."

She added, "But you have to help me move them."

Of course, I refused, but she said again, "If you help me move them, you can come to my house for half a month's meals." I did the math: there's a direct subway line from her house to mine, so it won't take long without transfers, and eating there for half a month would save money, plus I wouldn't have to buy or cook for myself. What a bargain!

We agreed, I'd go this weekend.

The main items were a microwave, table, chair, lamp, and printer. I could return any other small items I didn't need to her from my own home. It wasn't much, but I ran around from 10 am to 8 pm on Saturday, making three trips to her house. Luckily, the microwave was delivered by the store.

We were both exhausted from carrying things Saturday night, so I didn't let her cook at home. We agreed she'd come over for dinner starting Monday night. Before leaving, I said we'd spent 150 euros, and I took out 40 euros, saying to keep the change. She was lying on the bed, too tired to move, and said, "Who wants your money? I just wanted you to come with me shopping. Your labor cost more than that. Consider it me taking advantage of your labor." I thought, "Yeah, I'm not anyone to her. Labor can be paid for too," and went home feeling justified.

I go to class every day and then go straight to L's house for dinner. Life's pretty comfortable; at most, I have to wash the dishes. The only problem is that L has more classes than me and gets home a little later, so I often go home first to chat with Xiao K online before going to L's for dinner. The main issue is that L has said from the beginning that she considers me a brother, and that title puts a lot of pressure on me. If I have even the slightest impure thought, it feels a bit inappropriate. Also, she asked me right away if I had a girlfriend, and I didn't lie to her. I talked to her a lot about my girlfriend and me, and she listened with great interest, thinking we were a perfect couple. She even said she would definitely keep an eye on me and prevent me from messing around in France.

I also found an opportunity to ask her if I really am like one of her brothers. She didn't want to talk about it yet, so I said, "I've already told you everything, and you still treat me like this." Only then did she tell me a long story. She does have a cousin, from her aunt's side, who doesn't look like me, but his voice, tone, and intonation are very similar. Her aunt and uncle went to the countryside in a small city in Jiangsu Province and stayed there for more than ten years. When they returned to Beijing, they brought her cousin, who was only in middle school at the time. Because of L's father's help, her aunt and uncle got jobs at the same large state-owned enterprise where L's father worked, and they worked there until they both retired a few years ago. They both worked for the same company and lived in company housing. Their families lived in different units of the same building, and were very close, like one big family. L's family, being better off, had always taken good care of her cousin's family. The two families' children played together for ten years. L, in particular, followed her cousin around with a group of boys for many years, which shaped her current personality. When L entered junior high school, her feelings for her cousin changed. She was still very dependent on him, but a touch of teenage budding romance had begun to appear. Fortunately, her cousin hadn't caught on yet and still treated his short-haired cousin like a younger brother. When L entered high school and her cousin went to university, they met again during a holiday. L suddenly realized that her feelings for her cousin were no longer those of cousins. Her cousin, who seemed to have grown up in university, also gave L a very different look.

Just as a tragedy seemed to be unfolding, L's mother noticed something was wrong. After talking to her cousin, she asked a friend working in France to help L with her travel arrangements. At this point, L solemnly told me that she and her cousin had never even held hands; adults were too sensitive. I asked what was happening now, and she said her cousin was getting married next year. Nothing had happened between them before; when she returned to China last year, they were still getting along well, and he was even getting along very well with his future sister-in-law.

Because I went to university in Jiangsu, and my dad is also from Jiangsu, I speak Mandarin with a slight accent, just like her cousin. So she thought I looked a lot like her cousin, except her cousin is very handsome. The implication was that I wasn't handsome at all.

On another note, after Xiao K instilled this sense of responsibility as an older brother in me, I immediately transferred it to L, so even today, despite many opportunities, I've never been to L's house. Of course, that's a story for later.

After

eating at L's house for half a month, we didn't stop. We got into the habit of sending each other a text message after class every day to see who got home first. L's school is in the center of Paris, which is close to home, but she has a lot of classes and frequent quizzes. The quiz grades are included in the final exam, so I often went to her house to buy groceries and we ate together. I only occasionally cooked a couple of dishes. If I didn't go to her house for dinner, I would just make noodles at home.

Living alone is really boring, especially for someone as talkative as me. My first year in France was in the north, where there weren't many Chinese people, so I made over 40 long-distance calls (each costing 15 euros), which is almost the price of a round-trip plane ticket. Of course, most of those calls were to my girlfriend. Now I call much less; often, she'll say online that I haven't called for three or five days, and then I rush downstairs to find a phone booth to call her. Unlike now, where everyone has a landline with unlimited calls, back then, having internet access was a luxury.

After Xiao K went to Lyon, we chatted online almost every day. A week later, Xiao Q added me to her MSN, but we didn't have much to talk about online, so after a few greetings, I blocked her.

Xiao K told me that Xiao Q was very popular there; not only were all the Chinese boys nice to her, but she also had no shortage of foreign suitors. However, her school was just a very ordinary business school, far inferior to the nearby Lyon Business School, so it seemed there weren't many genuine French students there. Less than two weeks later, one evening, Xiao K suddenly told me that Xiao Q had found a boyfriend in the same grade but a different class. He was French, but had immigrated from Algeria when he was young, and was quite good-looking. I said, "Most Arabs aren't good people. Don't worry about her, just be careful and don't have much contact with him."

Xiao K said I was racist. I said, "Just you wait and see. To be honest, it's not that there aren't good Arabs, but in France, most Arabs are bad guys. Don't think that going to a business school makes you civilized. It's like starting to eat canned food instead of bones; you're still a dog." I hope this didn't offend any of my Chinese brothers who have deep feelings for the Arab people.

Less than a week later, Xiao K said that Xiao Q had brought her boyfriend home and didn't leave that night.

I asked her if she heard any noise from next door, and she said yes. It seems Xiao Q is carrying out the task her mother assigned her back home. I told Xiao K to lock her room door at night, and to lock it before showering and using the toilet. Xiao K said she knew, but she couldn't sleep at night because of the noise, and it didn't quiet down until after 1 a.m.

We also have to admit that Xiao A, who eats beef and mutton, has a rather strong... well, you know. But that's exactly what Xiao Q wants; I'm afraid she's still not satisfied. I don't know why I'm so sour, a bit like a sour grapes.

Less than a week after Xiao K started complaining about the noise from next door, Xiao K's latest news was that Xiao Q and that guy broke up, I don't know why. Breakups like this aren't a big deal, but the only consequence is that no Chinese guys are pursuing Xiao q anymore. The reason is simple: few Chinese guys have the courage to date a girl who's had a foreign boyfriend.

Time passed quickly and uneventfully. Fortunately, I had L to talk to every day, so life didn't feel too hard. However, I noticed my bank account was dwindling; in just over a year, I'd already spent nearly 20,000 euros. I suddenly felt a little anxious. Seeing other friends who weren't studying so hard working or earning money, I started paying attention.

I didn't have time to work. Chinese restaurants were too tiring and didn't pay much, and French restaurants took too much time.

Finally, I decided to start looking for an internship early so I could start at the beginning of the next semester and still have some pay. So, on the one hand, I sent out resumes everywhere, and on the other hand, I focused on preparing for my school courses, trying to pass all my courses in the first semester so I wouldn't have to wait until the next.

At that time, there weren't many people looking for internships, and of course, there weren't many companies looking for interns either. I mainly sent my resume to French companies that had business ties with China, and occasionally to some small Chinese companies that did foreign trade. After waiting for about two weeks, I started receiving interview invitations. I quickly went to a Zara store and bought a suit for a little over 200 euros. It was all wool, not much more expensive than in China. I was still hesitant about buying it, thinking I should just wear something more formal than casual. But then I saw a young Chinese couple in the store picking out suits, and I vaguely heard them talking about internships and job interviews, which made me decide to buy it. And indeed, I haven't worn it more than a few times. I'll take it back to China and wear it there.

Going for job interviews is actually quite confidence-dampening. I went to two companies, and at the company entrance, I even saw a few other Chinese people there for interviews. Talking to them, I realized they were either from business schools, the Sorbonne, or prestigious universities. Their French was so good I almost mistook them for French. If it weren't for the requirement of an internship at my school, I really wouldn't have gone. The French interviewers were generally very warm and polite, and they rarely asked any professional questions; it was mostly just chatting. After the first two interviews, I quickly received emails from them thanking me for my interest but saying that based on my qualifications, I wasn't a good fit for their positions and they hoped I could find a more suitable company. I

had a total of seven or eight interviews, and I realized that the difference between talent and scum is just one word, even though they were all wearing suits. A month after my first interview, I finally received an interview invitation from a Chinese-owned trading company—the only one I received from a Chinese company. It was a good match for my major, and they spoke Chinese, so I thought the gap between me and students from prestigious universities would be smaller. When I arrived at the company near the Paris Opera, I found more than ten Chinese students, but not a single foreigner. The receptionist was a fairly attractive Chinese girl. She answered phone calls while arranging interviews for everyone, patiently answering all questions. The interview order was alphabetical by last name; I was second to last. I wasn't in a rush, so I listened to everyone's questions and gradually learned about the company. They needed to hire three people: two men to handle business with China, and a woman to replace her. Her internship ended in two months. Her position required fluency in French and English, but the other two positions didn't have such high language requirements.

The boss was from Zhejiang, a chubby guy, who had been importing goods from the Jiangsu and Zhejiang region to sell in France for 20 years and was doing quite well. Actually, these kinds of sole proprietorships don't really have a recruitment system; it all depends on the boss's mood. Plus, he'd already interviewed over ten people, and he seemed a bit tired. He just went over the company details he'd already explained a dozen times, and asked me to introduce myself and say something casual.

He didn't ask any questions, so how could I just say anything? I have no work experience in China, and if I'm going to brag, at least give me something to say! So, I started bragging about how I'd been in contact with many large companies with my dad since I was little, how I'd organized various activities at university, how I'd collaborated with major companies, and how I'd interacted with government departments. I also bragged about some recent developments in Sino-French trade that I'd learned online. He suddenly asked me, "Is your father also in business?" I said no, he works in some department of the provincial party committee. Upon hearing this, he asked again, "Do you know so-and-so?" I said I thought I'd heard of him, maybe a section chief. He said that two years ago he was mentioned as a deputy director in some department, a friend of his. I said I didn't know, but that department was very lucrative.

At this point, I thought getting into this company shouldn't be a problem, and sure enough, a few days later, the girl at the door called to inform me. She even praised me a bit, saying that many people with domestic work experience hadn't been hired. I was too embarrassed to tell the truth and modestly replied. Not finding an internship

at 25

through genuine ability is a huge regret for me, but on the one hand, I'm too lazy to look again, and on the other hand, I really lack confidence in my own abilities. I booked the internship with this company and waited three months. They were supposed to hire someone next month, as the previous intern's contract expired this month. However, I wouldn't be available for several months, so I asked the girl who was hosting me to discuss it with the boss. Fortunately, the previous intern wanted to earn more money and was willing to work a few more months, which made things much easier for me.

Continuing to eat at L's house was quite comfortable; I didn't have to cook and rarely had to wash dishes. However, my food expenses actually increased. Even L said I bought too much food and was wasting it. I also noticed that I seemed to be gaining weight, especially around my stomach. Later, we discussed it, and it was agreed that if she got home before me, I wouldn't go over. If I got home earlier, I would go buy groceries, but she would have to pay half; before, I had refused to accept her money. As a result, I went to LV much less often. Besides making money online, I started having time to go out and look for business opportunities to plan for the future.

One day, I was chatting with an older woman in front of the LV store on the Champs-élysées. She wanted me to buy her a few LV bags, saying she would give me 40 euros as a reward. At first, I thought she was lying, but after chatting for a while, I found out it was actually true. LV stores are deliberately mysterious, only allowing customers to buy two bags with their passports; you can't buy more if you have the money. So there's this group of Chinese people who hire others to buy LV bags, saying they'll resell them in Japan. I don't know if they're really going to Japan or if they're just using them for money laundering. This really made me realize that even in France, with its sound legal system, there are still many opportunities to make money, whether it's legitimate or not, I still need to explore them carefully.

While chatting with the older woman, I suddenly saw a familiar-looking girl walking towards me. She was also looking at me, seemingly trying to remember, when she immediately called out my name. I then remembered she was the receptionist from the Chinese trading company. I immediately thanked her for helping me coordinate my internship schedule. She said it was nothing, no need to thank her.

I immediately left the older woman and walked with her towards the Arc de Triomphe. I asked her if she was there to shop. She said she was just doing a quick stroll, mainly to see a movie. Hearing this, I immediately offered to treat her to a movie as a thank you; I'd never seen a movie in France before. She said we could watch together, since I was alone anyway, but I didn't need her to pay. She said she had a movie pass, 18 euros a month, unlimited access to all movies.

Several cinemas in France offer annual passes for 18 euros a month, with no restrictions on movies, big or small. It's much cheaper than in China; movies there aren't expensive, less than ten euros. With only 18 euros a month, you can see two or three movies and it's enough to make a profit. I asked her how to get one, and she said the cinema ahead of us could issue one. Luckily, I had my passport and checks in my bag, so she helped me get one in ten minutes. I immediately went in and watched a French film with her. I only understood less than 30%, and didn't even grasp the relationships between the characters, which was quite frustrating.

She comforted me, saying that it's always difficult to understand at first, especially the spoken French, and suggested I watch English films with French subtitles first, as that would help me learn spoken French faster.

I told her that watching a movie alone wasn't very interesting, and that she could invite me to join her next time she went to the movies. She readily agreed and gave me her phone number and MSN. That's when I learned her name was N.

She watched movies one or two times a week, mainly arthouse films, but also some American blockbusters. From then on, I basically stopped downloading movies online, except for porn, of course. I didn't dare tell L that I often went to the movies with N, and I only met L once or twice a week anymore, but we chatted online every day.

N has a rather dignified appearance; she's not exceptionally beautiful, but she has a pleasant look. She also has long hair with a slight reddish tint, which I initially thought was dyed, but it seems to be her natural hair color. When she was little, relatives called her "Little Yellow Hair" because her hair was slightly yellow then, but as she grew older, it developed a reddish tint, which is definitely prettier than if it were dyed. Her internship ends this month, and she will continue her studies, also pursuing a master's degree.

I don't know if N genuinely has no one to go to the movies with, or if she's interested in me, but she basically invites me to every movie she goes to. I try not to refuse her invitations; in fact, sometimes when I can't go, she'll reschedule and go with me. She's never asked me too many personal questions, like whether I have a girlfriend, and I don't ask her any either. But I can sense the subtle shift in our relationship. Sometimes in the dark of the movie theater, my hand brushes against hers, which is also resting on the armrest, and she doesn't pull away, just leaves it there naturally. I haven't dared to grab hers; what if she already considers me a friend? If I grab hers, it'll be all over.

French cinemas are quite open-minded; they don't prohibit erotic or violent films, only specifically labeling them as unsuitable for ages 16 or 12 and under. She would often ask me to watch movies with her. Actually, I'm a bit of a scaredy-cat and don't really like watching violent or scary films, but she wasn't too opposed to them. As long as it was recommended online as good, she would watch it regardless of the style. Even pornographic films—we'd watch them together, with men and women fully exposed, and sex scenes. When those scenes of flesh and blood rolling around on the bed on screen, I would often steal glances at her with my penis erect, and I always found her staring intently, not flinching at all, looking completely natural. I felt ashamed of my own wicked thoughts.

One Saturday, after watching a two-hour movie, it was almost 7 pm. After we came out, she asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner, and I said noodles. She said, "Come to my place, I'll make you roujiamo (Chinese hamburger)." I knew she went to university in Xi'an, but I didn't know she could make roujiamo. How could I refuse such an invitation?

I knew she shared an apartment with another girl, but when I got there, I found out they shared a one-bedroom apartment without a living room. I asked her why she lived so cramped, saying it was inconvenient.

She said the rent was less than 200 euros per person. She added that she and the other girl had known each other since China, so they were like sisters, and sharing a room wasn't inconvenient.

Her roommate was out working and hadn't returned yet, so she was making roujiamo in the kitchen. A pot of meat was already simmering on the stove, chunks of meat, some lean and some fatty, soaking in a dark brown broth. My stomach was already rumbling. Under the four-burner stove was an oven. She took a few round cakes she bought from the supermarket from the refrigerator and put them in the oven, then started cutting the meat on the cutting board. I offered to cut it, but she said she often did and could cut it quickly. I watched as she cut the larger pieces of meat into smaller pieces, then sliced them, and finally chopped them into small minced pieces using two cleavers. The kitchen was small; it was difficult for two people to even turn around. I slowly moved behind her, one hand on the sink, and whispered in her ear, my face very close, because the two kitchen knives were clattering loudly.

I could already smell the fragrance of her hair, and my breath ruffled the hair behind her ear. Seeing that she didn't pull away, I glanced at the cleavers whistling in her hand, swallowed hard, and moved one foot towards the kitchen door, tentatively touching her earlobe with the tip of my nose. The clattering of the two kitchen knives slowed down; the alarm was actually off. I boldly, but without taking my eyes off the knives, took her ear into my mouth, tracing the tip of my tongue along her earlobe before slowly moving to the back of her ear and kissing her gently. The knives stopped clattering. I saw her eyes were closed, and her head was slightly turned to the side.

I knew I had succeeded. I gently wrapped my arms around her waist from behind—her waist was so soft. I placed my lips on the back of her neck, leaving a little dampness at the base of her hair.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key turning in the door. Before I could hear it, she didn't say anything, nor did she push me away. The clattering of the two knives continued, startling me.

After having dinner with her roommate, the three of us left early, noticing that her roommate didn't seem to like me. I didn't know what N was thinking. Although she didn't show any signs of dislike today, she might calm down and become more rational afterward. After all, we haven't had any deep conversations; our usual chats are limited to friendship.

For four days in a row, she didn't ask me to go to the movies, and I didn't dare call her. I just kept looking at her MSN avatar, waiting for it to light up so I could talk to her, but it never did. I felt I couldn't take the initiative anymore. After all, I have a girlfriend, and N doesn't seem like the kind of girl who'd just play around. I couldn't let her suffer too much.

I refrained from contacting N and waited for two more days until the weekend arrived. Instead of N's call, I received a call from Xiao Q, which surprised me.

She first asked how I was doing, and I said the same as always, nothing changed. She then asked if I had invited any girls over, and I said I'm not that kind of person; even guys don't come to my house, so why would I invite girls? As soon as I said that, she immediately said she wanted to come to Paris to see me and asked if I was welcome. Damn it, how could that be? This woman is having a great time in Lyon! Something must be going on. I said I was welcome, but I couldn't just spend so much money to see me. If she really missed me, I'd personally deliver myself to Lyon to see her, and I'd also visit Xiao K while I was there.

Then she said she had received an internship interview invitation from a company in Paris for next Monday and asked if I could stay at her place Sunday night and visit her. I knew this woman wouldn't come to see me so easily, so I asked her if Xiao K knew. She said she hadn't told Xiao K yet and wanted to ask me first. I said she was welcome, but she shouldn't tell Xiao K. She said no problem, she'd let me know after buying the tickets, see you on Sunday.

If Xiao K found out, she'd be very angry, and the consequences would be serious. Although I didn't really want this woman who'd slept with foreigners to stay at my house, I couldn't find a good excuse to refuse. I'd already lied to her that I was still living alone; on the other hand, I might also be a little longing to peek at her body again.

Seeing so many reposted erotic articles, I must say, their writing is excellent, giving readers ample room for imagination. However, I don't know if it's because my life experience is insufficient, or if these articles are written too passionately, but I feel that very little of them truly reflect real-life experiences. Nevertheless, they have at least accompanied me through many solitary nights and given me the urge to share my own story. I'll start by writing a bit, and if you find it interesting, I'll gradually unfold my story… I

only stayed in a small city in southern England for two months, without going to school a single day, before moving to France due to some family reasons back home. My family first found me a school in a relatively large city in the far north of France. Although they said it was a relatively large city in France, it was actually smaller than a county town in China. I studied French while also attending some professional courses for other majors. I had always wanted to go to Paris, but I heard that you can't learn a language well in a city like Paris, so I settled down in this northern city for ten months.

Looking back, I spent a total of three years in France, but only those ten months were truly dedicated to studying. The French I learned during that time is arguably my biggest gain from my studies there. The following two years of my Master's degree were mostly just coasting through. Let me first explain about Master's programs in France: they actually only take a year to complete, but because I was rather lazy, I asked my advisor to submit my thesis in the second year. So, after finishing my exams in the first year, the second year passed by easily. It was because of this that I had the opportunity to experience a romantic relationship in Paris—something I never even imagined before going abroad.

While it was a romantic relationship, it wasn't exactly love. During the first six months abroad, especially before arriving in Paris, I studied very hard, so I rarely thought about matters between men and women. Even my morning erections disappeared for almost six months. It wasn't until the matter of going to Paris to study was settled and the pressure of studying lessened that I started to have some lustful thoughts.

I came here right after graduating from university. I prepared for a few months in China before leaving, but I don't know if it's because I didn't get enough nutrition while I was abroad, but my sex drive has never been strong. Back in China, my girlfriend and I lived in different cities, and she was quite conservative, so I basically had to take care of myself every day. Occasionally, when we met, we would struggle for a long time but still couldn't get it over with. Looking back now, I wonder how I had so much energy back then, taking care of myself at least once a day, and two or three times was common. After coming here, it's rare for me to see Chinese girls, and when I do, I just say hello, but I don't feel any romantic feelings at all. This situation continued until a month before I went to Paris.

While studying French at a French language school in Shanghai, I met a girl. We were classmates for only a week before she stopped coming. She was from Suzhou, and I didn't know her age. Later, I found out she was older than all of us classmates, which is why she kept it a secret. Everyone in our class was learning French to study abroad. I only studied for a month and a half before finding it too difficult and giving up. She was learning on her own to prepare for training in France the following year, as her company was sending her there. However, due to her busy work schedule, she only studied for a little over a week before disappearing. Fortunately, we exchanged MSN numbers, which allowed us to meet up in France later.

She was in a small city near Paris for training for six months. A month before I was supposed to go to Paris, she added me on MSN, saying she'd been in France for three months and was on vacation, asking if I had time to get together; ideally, we could go to Paris together. I thought, I'm going to Paris next month anyway, and I'm still packing, plus I'll have to pay for accommodation. I suggested she come to my city, and then she could come after I left for Paris, and we'd have a place to stay. She readily agreed. But once she confirmed her arrival date, I started to feel uneasy. I wondered if something was going to happen.

She's definitely a pretty girl, not very tall, but with great proportions. When I saw her in Shanghai, I thought she had a nice figure. She's the kind of person who's easy to talk to, and being a sweet, demure young lady from southern Jiangsu, many guys are quite enthusiastic about her. She's coming to visit in four days and will be staying in my little room! I'm so excited thinking about those days. I tidied up my tiny room, throwing away everything I didn't plan to take to Paris and packing up anything I didn't need. I made the 12-square-meter room look quite charming. I picked her up from the train station

on

Thursday. Thursday is a public holiday, and the French like to build bridges, so they include Friday in the weekend, giving her four days to explore the city. It's less than a two-hour train ride from her city to mine. I don't know why she took the 7 am train, making me get up at 8 am and even make some corn porridge. She arrived at my house early in the morning to drop off her luggage, ate some porridge, and then went out to explore. It had been months since I'd last seen her, and she was still the same—refined and womanly. When she casually took my trash bag with her before leaving, I felt a warm glow inside.

We walked and chatted along the way. The city was too small, and there weren't many sights, so I had to tell her everything I'd seen and heard during my six months there to keep the conversation flowing. Luckily, she was good at keeping up with my topics, so we walked quite happily until it was almost dark before heading back. We stopped at a supermarket and bought some vegetables and meat, plus a bottle of Bordeaux red wine.

Dinner was quickly prepared under her care. Since there were no candles, we dimmed the lights, opened the wine, and began to chat.

That's when I learned she was at least five years older than me, had been working for many years, had a boyfriend of six, and was preparing to get married. But before going abroad, she suddenly discovered that her boyfriend had been having an affair with one of his female clients for two years. She hadn't noticed anything until she went to Shanghai to apply for her visa. She was supposed to stay in Shanghai for one day, but there was work the next morning, so she took the night train back that evening. When she got home and opened the door to find it locked from the inside, she realized she had also fallen into a very mundane emotional entanglement. After less than a month of this, she escaped and went to France. She told her story for over two hours, barely ate any food, but finished most of her drinks—she drank more than half—and then drank the six cans of beer in my fridge (she drank four).

But thankfully, she neither cried nor argued; her face was just flushed.

After dinner, I insisted on washing the dishes, because she cooked them, and I wanted to appear more diligent. Seeing there was nothing to do, she went to take a shower. When she came out a while later, she was already in her pajamas, her hair still wet, and asked me for a hairdryer.

I didn't have one, so she went back to the bathroom, took my dry towel, and continued drying her hair. While I complimented her on her beautiful hair, long and black, I secretly glanced at it a couple of times and immediately noticed two very obvious nipples under her pajamas, especially in the slightly damp fabric. My scalp tingled, and my penis instantly became erect. Realizing the situation was getting out of hand, I immediately said I needed to take a shower and went into the bathroom. I don't know if she saw it when she was drying her hair, but there was a big bulge under my Adidas sweatpants. I think I saw a shy smile behind her messy hair. Of course, maybe she didn't even smile, and I was just imagining things.

That shower was so nerve-wracking. I soaped twice and turned the water temperature down as low as it could go, but I still couldn't hold it in any longer. So, covered in soap suds, I masturbated, spraying a lot of semen all over the floor, walls, and shower curtain. Thinking about it, it's not surprising. This was the first time I'd masturbated in over half a year. It would be abnormal if the amount wasn't much. My heart calmed down a bit after that, and I wasn't as panicked as before. After washing my penis clean, I rinsed it in the shower until the water heater ran out of hot water. Then I looked down and... where was the towel? Oh right, I took it out to dry her hair. Luckily, there was an extra light pink damp towel on the towel rack. Never mind, I'll take hers. It smelled nice, I don't know if it was from her shampoo or shower gel, but it smelled really good, and it had little flowers on it, which was pretty too. When I got to dry her penis, seeing her still-erect penis in the pink towel, I felt another surge of heat in my lower body. And when I put on my glasses and looked through the foggy lenses at her black cotton underwear hanging next to me, my penis became active again. When

I

came out, she was already in bed with me in my small bed, and her sleeping bag was spread out on the carpet next to the bed. She was quite self-conscious and didn't even bother to be polite before taking over my bed. Considering that she was so much older than me, I decided to let her have it. So I sat down on the floor next to her bed, with my sleeping bag on my lap, and checked my emails.

She turned to me and asked what good movies I wanted to see. I opened my movie folder; most of them were French films. Although she seemed to have never seen most of them, she still asked again what was good. Actually, my penis was already stuck between my legs under the notebook. I had some impure thoughts, but I didn't know what to do and didn't dare to do anything. While introducing her to the movies on the computer, I casually opened the film Romance of the Three Kingdoms and turned the screen towards her. She tilted her head to watch, and I took the opportunity to sniff her hair thoroughly. I think many people have had this experience: after a long time away from a woman, once you smell her scent, you'll see double eyelids even in a sow or a piece of pork, let alone a real beauty! Just

as I was wondering what to do, she spoke. "My neck is about to break from looking at you! Can you sit on me?" Oh my god! Just

when I wanted to sleep, someone threw me a pillow. While I was inwardly cheering, I said aloud, "The bed is too small, it's too cramped for two people." As soon as I said it, I wanted to slap myself. What if she said she'd put the computer on the bed to watch

TV? Then I'd be doomed! What a stupid, horny pig! She straightened up, shifted her butt towards the inside of the bed, and said, "I've said enough, aren't you? It's wide enough." I shakily used my laptop to cover my penis as I climbed onto the 70cm wide bed, regretting not buying a box of condoms yesterday.

When my two icy feet slipped under the covers, she let out an "oh." I said, "The carpet is right under the concrete floor, of course it's cold!" She looked apologetic and said, "Come in, let me warm you up." My heart was warmed!

Wait a minute, she suddenly cried out.

Oh no, is she regretting it, or is she embarrassed? I didn't dare move, I looked at her, but not into her eyes. "

Didn't you wear these pants all day? And you even wore them into bed? Take them off! I just showered. Didn't you just shower too?"

At that moment, I think I don't need to describe how I felt. Seeing her deliberately focusing her gaze on the laptop screen, I quickly took off my sweatpants and slipped into the warm bed from the side. 0.1 seconds later, I realized she wasn't wearing pajama bottoms either... Looking up again, they were already on the other side of the bed.

I didn't dare move, pretending to watch the video with her. Soon, the video showed daring sex scenes, and I felt smug about my cleverness, observing how things would unfold.

I went to the bathroom. Just as the two were getting passionate in the video, she suddenly said...

Could it be that she felt embarrassed and wanted to skip this scene? Looks like we need to change the video. But then she said, "Pause for a moment, wait for me." She crawled out of bed and climbed down from the foot of the bed, wearing only a pair of white panties!

I warmed my icy hands under the covers and stared blankly at the white buttocks of the female protagonist on the screen, which was paused, thinking how much I regretted not buying condoms. A series of distinctly feminine snoring sounds came from the bathroom, lasting quite a while, probably from drinking beer. After passing the bathroom, she came running over, exclaiming how cold she was, and climbed over me in a flash. I could vaguely see a dark patch of skin inside her white panties just a foot away, and I could almost smell the fragrance of that meadow.

She crawled back under the covers, saying how cold it was, and immediately placed her two icy little hands on my left thigh. My hands were warming up my swollen penis when her hands slipped in, touching my left hand. I grabbed her hand and said, "Your hands are so cold." She didn't resist, rubbing her hands back and forth on my thighs to warm them, and said, "Keep playing the movie." I had to take my hands out and move the computer. Her hands were still rubbing against my left leg to warm them, but her fingers had touched my penis several times. I think she must have felt my swollen and erect penis too. There were many intimate scenes in

the

movie, but to be honest, it wasn't very heartwarming or enjoyable. Although it won some film awards, I can't remember any of the plot details now. I only remember a lot of intimate scenes, some of which weren't very aesthetically pleasing, even a little unpleasant. But when watching this movie with her, I couldn't care less; I couldn't just start with porn.

My hand, which was outside the covers, quickly cooled down. My left hand held my notebook, while my right hand quietly slipped under the covers from my right side. She was on my left and didn't see me. I warmed my right hand on my right leg, just in case. Hehe. As she watched, she would occasionally rub her hands together. Actually, her little hands were already warm, but she didn't stop. The frequency of touching her penis seemed to increase. Her penis was straight inside her underwear, and her warm fingers would intentionally or unintentionally touch the base of her penis and testicles.

She leaned to her right, resting on the pillow and my left shoulder. I could clearly smell her hair and body fragrance. I felt like her breasts were touching me through her pajamas, but I couldn't be sure, and I didn't dare move. Just as another sex scene appeared on the screen, her hands, which had been rubbing together, suddenly stopped. Her fingertips barely touched my penis before stopping. She looked up and said, "You responded."

My heart was pounding. I could hear it. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath sweet and fragrant, a fresh minty toothpaste scent with a hint of alcohol.

I thought, I'm not a beast, but I'm not that old man surnamed Liu either.

I lowered my head and gently placed my lips on her pink lips. Her tongue immediately responded, and I instantly took it in and began to entwine with it.

And she grabbed my penis, which she had been lightly touching with her fingertips. Through her panties, she gripped it firmly for a moment, then gently moved it up and down with one hand.

She closed her notebook and tossed it onto the sleeping bag beside the bed. Under my brilliant direction, my warm right hand swiftly slipped under her pajamas and grasped her breast, its nipples already erect. I squeezed it a few times before gently kneading it. While kneading, I flicked her nipple a couple of times.

Her breasts weren't large, between a B and C cup, but they were very elastic and firm. I kissed her lips, her earlobe, and her neck, while simultaneously moving my right hand down into her small panties. Her pubic hair was sparse and rather concentrated, so I couldn't tell what it looked like, but it felt very soft. After gently stroking it for a while, I smoothly moved my fingers downwards without any resistance. I only lingered on her clitoris for a few seconds before placing my fingers on her vulva, which was already completely wet. There wasn't much, but it was very slippery. I only used one finger to move in and out of her vulva, and she already started moaning. At the same time, one of her hands reached directly into my underwear and grabbed my swollen penis, moving it up and down quickly. After a few strokes, perhaps feeling that there wasn't enough room to move inside my underwear, she used her other hand to help, moving my penis and testicles out from the left side of my underwear and moving them around more vigorously.

My right middle finger was already deeply inserted into her slippery, beautiful vagina; it was very tight, so I didn't dare use two fingers. Just one finger was enough to make her incredibly wet down there. I pulled my right hand out first and started to pull down her panties. She immediately stopped, first putting my penis into her panties, then somewhat roughly pulling them down. Because my penis was so swollen, it got stuck in her panties, and she even peeked under the covers.

After

unbuttoning two buttons of her pajamas, I was a bit clumsy due to the angle, so she unbuttoned the remaining three herself. I also took off my t-shirt. When my head popped out of her t-shirt, the first thing I saw was a pair of white, firm breasts—breasts I hadn't seen in all these years, so firm and bouncy. I had assumed that after living with her boyfriend for so many years, her areolas would have darkened, but in fact, they were absolutely pink, very small and pink areolas, with small but already very prominent nipples. They really looked like the breasts of those little girls in porn. I took one into my mouth immediately, while my other hand kept stroking it up and down. Her lower body was already a small pool of fluid, starting to flow into her buttocks. And she had one arm around my neck, while the other hand was grasping my penis and moving it up and down, occasionally kneading my testicles.

I climbed on top of her, moving my body between her spread legs. My painfully erect penis rubbed against her pubic hair, probing the entrance several times; the glans was glistening with her vaginal fluid. I didn't have a condom, and at that moment I really wanted to use a kitchen diaper. Luckily, I still had a shred of rationality and didn't thrust in all at once. I whispered in her ear, "I don't have a condom."

She said, "It's okay, I've been taking medication."

What else was there to say? My penis went in immediately. She was so wet down there, so I didn't go in slowly; it went all the way in. She gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I didn't move; it was too tight, and I figured I was about to ejaculate. Thinking about it, if I hadn't masturbated first, I might have ejaculated before even penetrating her.

Her legs were tightly clamped around my waist. I started to slowly thrust in and out. Her eyes were closed, and she was moaning softly. Her hands gripped my back harder and harder. I didn't dare to go fast, just thrusting slowly, without changing positions. This was the first time I had sex with a girl without a condom, and the feeling was truly different. I thrust slowly like this for two or three minutes, and then suddenly she squeezed my legs tightly together, pressed her lower body against me, tilted her head back slightly, and her moans became more rapid. My penis suddenly felt a surge of heat, and I didn't care about rhythm anymore. After a series of hard thrusts, I ejaculated inside her with a short, loud cry. It

felt so good to be on top of her; I didn't want to move at all. She moved a little below and said, "Let me wipe you." I was a little embarrassed and kept saying, "Let me do it, let me do it." I turned to let her out, and she told me not to move, then ran to the bathroom, covering her genitals with one hand. After showering, she came back naked, with toilet paper and a towel, and thoroughly dried me off, saying I must be exhausted and I could shower again in the morning. Then she snuggled into the covers and hugged me. I was very, very tired and wanted to sleep immediately, but seeing how energetic she was, I felt embarrassed to sleep, so I started chatting with her casually.

She said my penis was the perfect size; any bigger and she'd be uncomfortable, any smaller and she'd be uncomfortable too. I thought, even though my penis isn't large, it's at least 15cm long and quite thick, so why would she say that? I asked her about her past relationship with her boyfriend. She didn't shy away from the topic, saying they were like an old married couple. However, they were still very passionate about sex, having done it everywhere at home and even in her boyfriend's office after get off work. They did it every day until that incident, and it had been four or five months since then. Later I learned that two months later, she went back to China and completely broke up with her boyfriend, selling their house and everything else. It had just been a long time since they'd done it, so today's encounter was very comfortable. I then asked her why she was taking birth control pills while alone in France. She said she'd been taking this medicine for over five years. Her cousin works as a department manager at Mafron's company, so she knows it's effective, has no side effects, and is good for the skin (it sounds like I'm promoting this medicine, haha). Plus, her cousin gave it to her for free, so she's been taking it consistently, even taking one pill a day with her when she went abroad. She definitely looked much younger than me, maybe the medicine really works, or maybe I just look too old, making her appear much younger.

The next morning, I woke up needing to urinate around 9 a.m. It was Friday, a day of rest for all of France, so it was very quiet outside, with hardly any car noise. After snoring, I pulled the thick curtains open a crack, and the room suddenly brightened considerably. I climbed back into bed and hugged her from behind. She seemed to be groggily waking up. I held her hand and slowly stroked one of her breasts, playing with her nipple. After a few strokes, the nipple hardened. She shifted, turning her body to lie flat. I moved my hand to her other breast, making the other nipple hard as well, while gently licking the previous breast. Her penis had been erect since she got up, and her legs were gently moving around in the blankets, rubbing against her penis. I really wanted her to give me oral sex, but I had never given oral sex before, so I didn't know how to ask. She didn't seem to have any intention of licking me.

I didn't care about anything else for now. Feeling the room was no longer cold, I immediately pulled back the covers, revealing my four legs. She instinctively pulled her legs up and asked what I was doing, why I was getting up so soon. I didn't answer, just crawled under her and rubbed my head against her pubic hair. It was then that I saw her beautiful private parts for the first time. Later I learned that she was actually almost 10 years older than me, well into her thirties, but her skin was very firm and her figure was excellent. She had loved sports since childhood, was a great swimmer, and had attended a sports school for several years before giving up because she couldn't keep up with her studies. Plus, she didn't have many worries in her life and regularly got beauty treatments, which is how she maintained her figure. But I don't understand why her private parts look like a little girl's.

I always thought that if you do it too much, the color of your breasts and genitals will darken. Last night, I thought her breasts were already very beautiful, but I didn't expect her genitals to be so alluring as well. There wasn't much hair, concentrated in a small patch. As my tongue circled around her clitoris, she spread her legs a little wider. Her labia were very small, or rather, her entire vulva was very small, and deeply recessed inside, completely unlike the "steamed bun" type described online. The sides of her labia were very clean, without a single hair or pigmentation, just the same color as her other skin. Gently parting them, they were already glistening with moisture. I had never given oral sex to a girl before, and her clitoris was also very small, not as prominent as in pornographic films, so I didn't know where to start. I should probably use my mouth. More importantly, perhaps she was embarrassed to let me see her genitals like that, so her legs weren't spread too wide. Plus, my tongue is relatively short, making it difficult to lick inside. So I licked her clitoris, kissed around the area, and then directly inserted my penis.

It's a little embarrassing to admit, probably because I'm inexperienced. I almost ejaculated as soon as I penetrated her. Back in China, I'd basically never done it with my girlfriend. So, strictly speaking, I'm still a virgin in France, haha, I'm a little ashamed of myself. I originally thought I'd make this girl (who's practically a young married woman) have multiple orgasms, like in porn movies, but in reality, I haven't reached that level of skill. I only thrust for about five minutes before I ejaculated. Looking back, the feeling of ejaculating inside without a condom is different. She seemed to enjoy it, but not as excited as last night; maybe she was still a little unsatisfied.

For the next two days, we didn't leave the house except to go to the nearby supermarket. That night and the next day, we made love three more times. I don't know what the problem was, but I just couldn't be very vigorous. Although she kept telling me it felt good, I kept wondering why this was happening. Later, I checked myself and concluded that it was because she was too tight down there and we weren't wearing a condom, which made me feel a little better.

On the morning of the last day, her train was at 11 o'clock. We had already eaten breakfast by 10 o'clock and packed her luggage, but the train station was only a 5-minute walk from my house, so there was no need to go so early. We just stood by the window and talked, making small talk to pass the time. At 10:30, I saw that we could leave and slowly strolled over. I leaned over and kissed her deeply, saying how reluctant I was to leave. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately for almost a minute. At that point, I didn't care about time anymore and just unbuckled her belt. She threw her small bag on the ground and came over to pull down my pants. I was still wearing my Adidas, and without a belt, I was completely naked. The most infuriating thing was that my penis went limp. It was erect when we kissed, but it went soft as soon as it was exposed to the light.

When she grabbed my penis, she was probably a little surprised and even laughed. I was a bit dumbfounded and didn't know what to say, blurting out that my penis was cold.

Behind us was a small table, a low one I bought at Apple, for a little over 9 euros. We used it as a desk and a dining table. The 12-square-meter apartment was too small, so there was no writing desk. She sat on the small table, said "Let me warm you up," and immediately took my penis into her mouth. Good heavens, my legs went weak, I almost lost my balance, how pathetic! In no time, my penis was erect. At first, she was just moving it inside, then she started moving it back and forth. I looked down at my 15cm penis going in and out of her mouth, my blood was boiling. I squatted down, pulled down her pants, and licked a few drops around her vulva. I don't know if it was her vaginal lubricant or my saliva, but it was all wet. Then I raised my penis and inserted it.

That little IKEA table was really too small. Our position was weird. Even though the bed was right next to us, I didn't want to change places. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I supported myself on the little table behind her and quickly started thrusting. It was slippery down there, and there were splashing sounds. I didn't care about the proper depth anymore; I was going all the way in every time. If I hadn't been supporting her from behind, she would have been pushed off the table. There was a wall clock above the bathroom door in front of me. I clearly remember that we did it from 10:38 to 10:50, in the same position and at the same frequency. I never thought sex could be so tiring. My arms were sore because she was pressed tightly against me, her arms and legs gripping me tightly, her back almost off the small table, and she was moaning loudly. When I finally ejaculated, I even wanted to free my hand to cover her mouth. Although I had ejaculated every day for the past few days, this time I still sprayed more than ten times. She also kept her back very straight and trembled without moving for almost half a minute.

After that, there wasn't much lingering conversation. She quickly wiped herself and stood up. Semen was still leaking from her vagina. There was no time to wash, so she took a panty liner from her purse, put it on her underwear, pulled up her pants, grabbed her luggage, and rushed out. When we reached the platform, the train conductor was blowing his whistle. Without even checking the carriage number, she rushed on. She looked back at me, and I wanted to lean in and kiss her, but she hurriedly said, "I'm leaving, the doors are closing."

She took a step inside. The doors slowly closed, and she waved to me from inside, saying, "Goodbye, Paris."

(Recalling this wasn't easy, keep writing)

7

Actually, there's a lot to write about, but also a lot that can't be made up. For example, a friend suggested writing about the kitchen, balcony, and sofa. Life in France is quite tough, especially in Paris. A 50-square-meter apartment costs 1,000 euros a month, and those with balconies are even more expensive. Kitchens are only two or three square meters, so finding romance in these places is difficult. However, those of us raised under the red flag are not afraid of hardship. We fully utilize our intelligence and creativity to create enjoyment in life.

For the first month after arriving in Paris, I stayed in a friend's living room. She was a girl who had been in Paris for two years. My own rented apartment wouldn't be available until next month, so I temporarily stayed with a friend of a friend for almost a month.

Let me mention that things were relatively peaceful with this girl during that month, mainly because she was the girlfriend of a colleague of my friend back home, so we were practically acquaintances. Her last name was C, and she was studying finance at Paris Dauphine University. Her boyfriend worked in Jiangsu province, and I even had dinner with him when I returned to China. She goes back home twice a year, so in the two years I've been abroad, she's already gone back three times, all with her boyfriend paying for her airfare. Each round trip costs 8,000 yuan, which isn't easy for her.

Apartments in Paris are very small; international students can't afford large ones. C's apartment actually only had one bedroom; the living room was essentially a larger kitchen/hallway, I'd estimate it was about 5 square meters. There was a sofa bed, but it took up too much space when unfolded, and my luggage was too big, so I slept on that sofa that was never opened for a month. This apartment, less than 20 square meters in total, cost over 600 euros. Having a sofa to sleep on was already a blessing.

C is quite tall, almost 1.65 meters, with above-average looks, rather slim, and long hair. She usually wears it in a braid when she goes out, but she looks better with her long hair down at home. Since she's my friend's wife, I was very careful while living there, not daring to say anything too outrageous, and trying not to appear at home during the day. I didn't dare go to bed too early at night. She liked to sleep in, so she stayed up quite late, surfing the internet and reading in her room, and sometimes coming out to use the bathroom or grab something from the living room. I usually didn't get to sleep until almost 1 a.m., but sometimes I could vaguely hear her making internet calls or talking to her boyfriend. Because of this, I was almost always late for class the next day. Especially since my school was in the southeast corner of Paris, which was quite far—it normally took 40 minutes by metro—being late or even absent was quite normal. Another reason was that there were too many Chinese students at this public university, which severely diminished the feeling of studying abroad. This was also a major reason why I wasn't interested in going to school. Unlike my previous city in the north, where there were very few Chinese people and the French were very warm and polite to us.

Staying in a room like this, there's practically no privacy. I didn't even dare sleep in just my underwear; I washed a pair of sweatpants and wore them as pajamas. Besides, the house originally only had one large room; the landlord partitioned it in the middle with two layers of plasterboard to create this one-bedroom apartment. I guess the landlord didn't put any soundproofing materials like asbestos in the walls when they renovated, so the walls aren't soundproof at all. I think C inside probably didn't know; I heard her making a phone call on the first day I moved in, and if you listened carefully, you could make out what she was saying.

I was already living under someone else's roof, and it was someone I knew, so I never had any bad intentions. Although I had aroused my pent-up lust over a month ago, I still couldn't make a move on my friend's wife. Besides, C seemed to be very careful; every time she finished showering, she would bring her underwear, which she had washed casually, into the room to air it out, so I couldn't find anything to fantasize about. After

staying there obediently for three or four days, one night, it was almost one o'clock, and I was lying on the sofa, somewhat unconscious. I vaguely heard C making a phone call inside, it seemed to be talking to her friend online, saying things like to take care of her health and not to go out with female colleagues at night. I covered my ears with the blanket and continued to sleep. In my dream, I vaguely heard a woman moaning. I woke up instantly, lifted my head, and listened carefully. The sound was coming from the inner room. Damn, could she be watching porn? I sat up to listen. Watching porn wouldn't require loudspeakers, right? Headphones would suffice!

I got up and tiptoed to her door, wanting to listen more closely. Suddenly, I noticed a light shining through the keyhole of the lock. I looked down and, haha, it was an old-fashioned lock with a keyhole that could be locked from both the inside and outside with those old-looking keys. When she locked the door, she twisted the key, revealing the lower half of the keyhole, allowing me to easily see inside. I quickly went to the sofa, fumbled for my glasses in the dark, put them on, and went to the door to peek inside.

My first experience of peeping! Her room

was

small, only about ten square meters. Looking through the keyhole, I could see her desk; she was sitting in a small swivel chair, her back to the door, looking at her computer, her long hair draped over the back of the chair. She even had one leg propped up on the desk—a bare leg! Damn, was she masturbating? That was my first reaction, and I immediately got excited. I never would have guessed. Students at Paris Dauphine University are usually very high-achieving, and quite unassuming, not at all promiscuous. I never imagined she'd be like this when she's alone. I guess everyone's like this, right? The more proper a girl seems, the more attracted they are to her. But if she's usually quite promiscuous, seeing any part of her body isn't as exciting.

I carefully pressed my glasses against the keyhole and glimpsed half a butt through the gap between the swivel chair back and seat. She was definitely naked from the waist down. Judging from the exposed shoulder above the chair back, her upper body should also be naked. Unfortunately, it was only her back; I couldn't see anything else.

See? It's so annoying. Are you alone in your office?… She seemed to be talking. Looking closer, I realized she was wearing a microphone. Turns out she was video chatting with her boyfriend back home! Her boyfriend must be fucking thrilled. Perhaps because she was wearing a microphone, C didn't realize her voice was already quite loud, especially late at night.

Excitedly, I knelt on the floor. It was a little uncomfortable on my knees, so I grabbed my coat from the side and used it as a cushion, comfortably kneeling on it, at the perfect height to face the keyhole. Her buttocks were less than two meters away, but the desk lamp was too dim, and it was backlit, so I couldn't see her clearly. She was still talking inside. "See? Don't let your colleagues see you." "

Just you alone? Can't see? Then I'll move the camera closer..."

She put her legs down on the table, moved her notebook a little closer, and then tilted the screen down slightly to make the camera clipped above the notebook more focused. With this movement, she could see me practically with my nose pressed against the door, the screen directly facing the keyhole, less than two meters away! Although she had her back to the door and I couldn't see anything, I could see her entire body on the screen—completely naked! Her MSN window wasn't very big, and her laptop was only 12 inches, but I used all my strength, my eyes practically a magnifying glass. She seemed to have a lot of pubic hair, and I couldn't tell how big her breasts were, but I could see that her nipples were quite dark. She spread her legs for her boyfriend to see, and he seemed quite excited there too; a man in a suit and tie was moving back and forth in the small video window.

When C moved her fingers around below for her boyfriend to see, she occasionally made some humming sounds. At that moment, I realized that the humming didn't sound very natural; she was probably just humming for her boyfriend to hear. That guy came to the company early in the morning just to watch live porn! Their company leaders must have thought he was a hardworking young man, haha, they were fooled! But later, after returning to China, I had dinner with this guy, and he really was a fairly ambitious young man, and the kind that girls liked. Judging from his tone, it seemed he hadn't been idle during C's three years abroad. Fortunately, in the end, we waited for C to return to China to live together. If I

can't see clearly, fine, I shouldn't have bought it yesterday, it cost 29 euros! C was a little unhappy; it turned out this was her first time doing a live online show, how lucky I was! If she couldn't see clearly, she took the camera down and pointed it at her breasts and nipples one by one! They clearly had no video experience; I really wanted to knock on the door and remind her. It seemed the guy couldn't see clearly and was getting impatient. C also lost patience, saying she was logging off if she couldn't see clearly, and immediately closed the video window, switching to voice chat. Seeing the show was over, I quickly got out of bed.

But I kept my ears open to listen. What followed was C complaining about her boyfriend, saying things like, "We still have books to read! Why did you spend so much time looking at them if you can't even see them clearly?" and "I won't let you read them anymore..." She also said things like, "Yours is so small, I don't want to look at it, it's all hair," etc. I laughed so hard in bed.

However, to be honest, she really didn't show it to her boyfriend again for the next month. Not even once. A little over a week later, I pretended to ask her if she had a webcam I could borrow. She said she had bought one before, but it wasn't clear and didn't work well. Luckily, it was bought from FNAC, and she returned it the next day with an excuse. Although

that was the only time I secretly saw a slightly lewd side of her, I learned the advantages of old-fashioned French door locks. What made me even happier was that the lock on her bathroom door was the same! The day after I secretly watched her video, the way I looked at her changed. When I saw her again that afternoon, I couldn't help but imagine what she looked like down there, especially when I saw her simple and serious face. So, ever since she got home around 7 PM, my penis hasn't gone down; it's been stuck in my pants the whole time. I was worried it might suffocate and die. Around 11 PM, she read for a while and then came out as usual, walking through the living room to the bathroom to shower. I was in the living room with the lights off, curled up on the sofa watching movies with my headphones on. She probably greeted me as she passed by, but I deliberately turned the headphones up really loud so I didn't even look up, pretending not to see her. As soon as I caught a glimpse of her entering the bathroom, I took off my headphones and waited. The door closed, the plastic bag rattled twice, and then it clicked shut. Soon, I heard hissing sounds from inside. I immediately sprang up from the sofa, carefully scurried to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and squatted down. The bathroom door faced the toilet directly. My heart was pounding because she was sitting naked on the toilet, snoring and stuffing her long hair into a plastic hairnet—she wasn't planning on washing it that night. As she fiddled with her hair, her breasts were right in front of the keyhole, right in front of my eyes! Under the 60-watt incandescent light, less than a meter away, my penis was extremely engorged. Her breasts weren't large, maybe a B cup at most, with small areolas and dark nipples. Perhaps it was cold from just taking off her clothes; I could count the goosebumps on her breasts, her nipples throbbing. I found myself even more excited than during our lovemaking a little over a month ago. She fixed her hair, leaned forward slightly, and rested her hands on her thighs. She sat on the toilet for about half a minute. During that half minute, her face and my face outside the door were less than 30 centimeters apart; I could almost hear her breathing. Her breasts hung there, not large, two dark nipples. I stared at her face and then at her breasts, as if we were face to face. Occasionally, she would glance at the door lock in front of her nose, or even at the keyhole, but it was bright inside and dark outside. She couldn't possibly see or imagine the peeping eye 30 centimeters away. I can still vividly recall that stimulation, and my heart beats faster every time I remember it. She sat up and pulled out a roll of toilet paper to wipe herself. I really don't understand why she would waste toilet paper when she was about to shower. If it were me, I would have just showered in the shower, saving water for the toilet. After wiping herself, she stood up, and suddenly a thick patch of dark pubic hair blocked my view. A lush patch of pubic hair! I never expected that such a refined, tall, and delicate girl would have such abundant pubic hair. Even from less than 30 centimeters away, I could faintly smell her scent. The hair was a perfect inverted triangle, extending all the way to above her pubic bone. It covered a large area and was even denser, like a wool blanket, lying flat on her lower abdomen. In less than ten seconds, she stepped into the small shower stall next door, disappearing from view. But those ten seconds of visual impact left me breathless for a long time, as if inside was a horny woman with surging estrogen, long suppressed, waiting for a man to liberate her. I stood up, took out my swollen penis, and started masturbating. Girls always take a long time to shower. As I played with my penis in the dark, I imagined the peach blossom pool hidden among her dark pubic hair. Suddenly, I noticed her half-open bedroom door. I never went in when she was home, and it was locked when she wasn't. Only at this time, during her daily shower, was she unguarded. I walked quickly inside, my penis erect. The room was small and tidy. On the table next to the small bed were a pile of books and photocopied lecture notes, several dictionaries, and a small canvas wardrobe with a zipper. The only thing that caught my eye was a bra hanging on the clothes rack by the window. She probably took her panties into the bathroom. I yanked it down; it was Etam, 70A, indeed only an A cup. I guess it's not easy to find such a small bra in France! I wrapped the bra around my penis and quickly started moving it up and down. I soon felt the urge to ejaculate, so I quickly stopped, smoothed the bra down, checked for any lint, and hung it back on the rack. I returned to the living room, still erect, and continued my penis massage by the kitchen sink in the corner of the living room. Listening to the sound of water inside, and feeling like I was about to ejaculate, the water stopped. How could she be done washing so quickly? Maybe it's because she didn't wash her hair. I immediately stopped and squatted down at the bathroom door. The shower curtain swung open with a whoosh, and two long, slender legs appeared one after the other in front of the keyhole. They were already dried, and the pubic hair stood up energetically, all fluffy. I wondered why she was standing there with her pubic hair facing me. I stared intently at that patch of shiny black blanket. Then she turned around, placed one foot on the shower step, and bent over towards the shower floor. I don't know what she was doing, but this bend completely exposed her vulva, which I had been thinking about for so long, to the keyhole. Her vulva was somewhat plump, with pubic hair almost reaching her anus—not very long, but still quite a bit. Her large labia hung outside, seemingly with water droplets clinging to them. The color of her labia was also quite dark, and with each movement of her body, they seemed to sway, occasionally revealing the vaginal opening that made my nose bleed. My hand didn't stop, stroking my penis up and down, watching her labia, and after a few strokes, I ejaculated violently. Luckily, I covered myself with both hands, otherwise it would have gotten on my clothes and the door. Less than two minutes later, she stood up and bent over slightly. I then saw that she had noticed the shower drain was clogged, and she had opened the small cover to clear out the long hair inside. I quickly got up, washed my hands at the sink, dried them, sat back on the sofa, put on my headphones, and continued pretending to watch a movie. This little keyhole made every day of my first month in Paris so enjoyable and anticipated. School classes were short for the first two weeks, then gradually increased, and things got busy. I was always in a good mood going to school every morning, always focusing my day on the half hour before bed. I didn't feel particularly warm at home, but I still looked forward to coming home from school every day. As C stayed longer, she started talking to me a little more at home. She treated me like her boyfriend's good friend, so she was quite polite to me. However, she didn't seem to be a very talkative person to begin with, and being a diligent student, our conversations were mostly about superficial things like school, major courses, internships, and job hunting. I felt like she hadn't really stepped outside of school or into Paris much. She seemed like a complete bookworm. I tried to ask her what was fun in Paris, but she didn't know. She had lived in Paris for almost two years and had only been to the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, and a few other small museums like the Guimet and Rodin; and even those visits were on the first weekend of each month in France when museums were free—she hadn't spent a single penny on entertainment. In my opinion, she was a really boring woman. Looking back, it was probably because the finance department at Paris Dauphine University was so prestigious, the academic pressure was immense. Plus, she hadn't worked since arriving in France and was very frugal, unwilling to spend money on anything outside of her studies and living expenses. The more frugal and dignified a girl is, the more stimulating it is for one's fantasies, especially after seeing her from head to toe. Now, every time she walks past me, in my eyes, she seems completely naked. Even when her breasts suddenly seem larger, I secretly chuckle to myself, thinking she must have changed to a thicker, padded bra.

Over the past month, C has been the woman whose body I've observed most closely in my life. It was a true case of seeing the whole leopard through a tube; I felt my own eyes had become smaller than my own. Every inch of C's skin was dissected and examined bit by bit over more than 20 days. I especially remember her anus surrounded by a tuft of short hair, and the two small black moles on her labia majora. To this day, I can't quite remember her buttocks, her breasts, or her nipples, but those two long, large labia minora, her anus, and the two "beauty marks" are all vivid images imprinted in my mind.

Because I didn't collect rent—mainly because she resolutely refused—I felt really bad and could only go to the Meili City supermarket, where Chinese supermarkets are concentrated, every one or two days to buy various groceries to eat with her. She rarely cooks at home, and if she does, it's usually just one dish. I don't want to make her house feel like my own, with lots of fancy cooking, so when I go to the supermarket, I mainly buy cooked food and snacks, occasionally bringing back some vegetables. Once, I brought her several large meat buns, and she was quite surprised, asking me how there could be meat buns in Paris. What a bookworm! We almost never eat together at the same table. I usually serve myself a bowl and sit on the sofa to eat while looking at the computer. She silently finishes her food quickly. Eating at the same table without saying a word is awkward.

Mainly because she doesn't seem to respond to what I say, so from the second day after I moved in, I deliberately avoided eating at the table.

Time flew by while I was staying at C's place; a month passed in the blink of an eye. My rented apartment was now empty. The previous tenant had taken or sold a lot of his belongings, even getting rid of the unsellable single bed, which he actually wanted to sell to me for 100 euros, claiming it was brand new. I thought, "You can't move it, you can't sell it, so it'll be mine anyway!" But he was even more shameless than me. He posted an ad online, starting at 1 euro, no delivery, and even bought a new one online for 1 euro. Since he didn't have a car, he had the store deliver it to his door.

I moved out of C's place on a Saturday. I didn't have much stuff: a suitcase, three large cardboard boxes, and a bag; but I definitely couldn't take the subway there. So I paid 40 euros online to a student with a car to help me transport my things. It was a young man surnamed Chen, driving a very new Roveer. I was thinking, "Why would someone driving such a nice car earn so little money?" Later I found out that he had previously earned over 6,000 euros from that small amount of money using a Renault 19. It made me realize the difference in perspective and mindset between students from the provinces and those studying in Paris.

C helped me carry my notebooks downstairs. Before the car arrived, she stood downstairs watching my luggage. I carried everything down three flights of stairs, already drenched in sweat. The truck arrived right after I finished moving. I was panting and didn't know what to say, just kept thanking her for her help over the past month. She politely replied that she'd gained weight from eating my food every day for the past month and that I should be the one thanking her. Little did she know, before I unloaded the last box, I'd placed a small box on her table containing a Vizi facial care set. C's skin is good, but unfortunately, she uses domestic skincare products brought from China.

Before I got in the truck, she waved and said, "There won't be anyone to chat with at night anymore. Come back and visit sometime!"

I thought to myself, "You never chatted with me when I was here; what does 'come back and visit sometime' mean? To see the house?

To see you? Or to see the good stuff in the keyhole?"

I never saw her again in France, only exchanging pleasantries online until I saw her again when I had dinner with her and her husband after returning to China.

I'm back to living alone. It's a small apartment similar to C's, maybe even smaller. My so-called living room doesn't even have a table, just a small folding sofa about 40cm wide. It's called a sofa because it's filled with foam. It folds into three sections, unfolding into a nearly 2-meter-long foam mattress that can be used as a bed. I don't know which tenant passed it down from, and I don't even know what the foam inside looks like anymore, but when you use it as a sofa, you can easily sit down hard on the floor through three layers of foam. Later, I bought a second-hand Ikea small square table online to match this small sofa; the height was just right. Ikea stores in Paris are too far, and without a car, it's impossible to go. So, I started getting used to buying second-hand goods from French student websites—cheap, practical, and I even made quite a few friends through it.

L is someone I met online while buying second-hand items; she's a girl from Beijing. At the time, I wanted her handheld vacuum cleaner, desk lamp, printer, desk, a folding chair, a bunch of clothes racks, and kitchen utensils—all for only 80 euros. 11

is leaving Paris to study her third year of university in the provinces, so she's gradually selling things. She could have continued studying in Paris, but she wants to pursue her master's degree there. Staying in Paris would be too boring if she didn't study in the provinces during that time, so she applied to a school in a tourist city on the French Riviera. She called the secretariat and learned she had been accepted and was waiting for her acceptance letter to register. When I called her, it went straight to voicemail. A lively voice answered in French first, then Chinese, asking me to leave a message. It was clearly someone from Beijing. She replied to my message less than three minutes later, saying she was chatting with a friend and then enthusiastically introduced her products to me. I told her I had seen her posts but didn't really want anything else. She said, "Come take a look and decide, they're very cheap, they're going to be thrown away if nobody wants them."

No need to transfer subway lines, just one direct train. As soon as I got off the subway, I saw a very energetic girl. To be honest, at first glance, I thought she was a boy. She had short hair, wore brightly colored sportswear, and walked with a slightly bouncy gait. She looked athletic too. Her features were quite nice, at least fairly regular. She waved very vigorously at me as soon as she saw me—was it really necessary to be so dramatic from only ten meters away?

We chatted casually as we walked to her apartment building. It was less than a five-minute walk, and we seemed to know each other like old friends.

Her apartment was on the 7th floor, the top floor, with no elevator. I stopped to rest once on the way up, and she watched me with a smile from the next flight of stairs, saying, "You're so useless, a man, huh? Did you use too much last night?"

Damn, we'd only chatted for a few minutes, were we that close?

But she really didn't say anything, just...tough.

Her room was quite simple, just one room, a one-piece shower in the corner, a double-burner stove and sink next to it, a bed, a canvas wardrobe, and a small, one-meter-tall bookshelf. The things I wanted were already on the desk—quite a pile. It also included three pots of different sizes, plates, bowls, chopsticks, soy sauce, and other necessities. There were several large bags and two unsealed cardboard boxes on the floor. "

Good deal for you." She bent down and rummaged through one of the boxes, pulling out a black bag. "Here!"

I took it, opened it, and saw a telescope—a nearly new, high-powered telescope. "Why would I want this? It's cheap, so what's the point?" I thought. I live on the second floor, and there's not much of a view outside. If someone lived on the seventh floor like her, buying one to play with wouldn't be bad.

"It's free, and I don't want it as a freebie?" She still smiled. Why? I was wary, afraid she was trying to sell me something else, or maybe she was trying to pick me up? Although she was a bit crazy, she was still decent-looking, at least she was a woman.

What? Why? Fine, take it. I don't need it anymore. I still didn't believe her. Give me any reason, otherwise how could I accept it? Actually, I quite like this kind of thing.

You look like my brother.

I'm speechless. She even used such a cheesy pickup line on me!

I gave a wry smile, "Is your brother as ugly as me? You look more like my mom!"

She wasn't annoyed, saying, "Why are you talking so much nonsense? Just take it." She kicked one of the bags on the ground twice and said, "Take a look at this, do you want it?"

I practically wanted to shove my head inside—a whole bunch of flashy but useless junk. A huge Chinese knot, a pen holder, a portable iron, a folding umbrella, unused tissues, two small plush toys, a small vase, unopened laundry detergent, a stack of new rags, two small rugs, a CD case, a small tripod, three or four picture frames, an electric kettle, a coffee maker, a wad of USB and internet cables, a small cordless phone, and so on. There were some useful items, so I asked her how much the kettle, umbrella, and coffee maker cost. She said twenty euros. I said buying them all new would only cost thirty. She put a hand on my shoulder and said seriously, "Twenty is twenty.

But if you take everything in this bag without throwing anything away, it'll only be fifteen!"

I was stunned!

But I still succumbed to the temptation of a bargain. Deal.

From her apartment on the seventh floor (no elevator) to my apartment on the second floor. It's a ten-minute subway ride. I made three round trips, and then two more the following night. Around 11 PM that night, on my last subway ride home, she called to say that the person who wanted to buy her microwave for 20 euros had stood her up. A large supermarket had an ad for a sale next week, where brand new microwaves were only 29.9 euros. Another bargain for me! Want it for 15 euros?

I succumbed to temptation again. I finished my sixth round trip around 1 AM and collapsed onto the bed.

Honestly

, after spending a fortune on this pile of junk and tidying it up, it actually started to look like a home. For those ten days or so, I spent my time after school tinkering with this and that, just like living a simple life. I didn't video chat with my girlfriend, but I sent her several photos. She immediately thought I was very thrifty and said she really wanted to live in a small apartment like that with me. I understand; her company gave her a nearly 100-square-meter apartment for free. Although it wasn't a gift, she could use it indefinitely as long as she worked there. She also spent some money to make the apartment feel very cozy, but she still cried on the phone many times, saying she was cold at home alone and wanted me to come back and keep her company. She even blamed me for lying to her that I was only going to England for a year, but now I've been in France for a year and only just started my master's degree, so I have to wait another year! It made my heart ache, and I immediately said I would go back to see her during my next holiday. She said she would come back for a month, then go back for another six months before returning to China completely, saying that even if you have money, you shouldn't waste it like that.

In those two days, I received two emails almost simultaneously. One was from my old flame, W, who had been doing training near Paris for six months, and the other was from my girlfriend. After our passionate three-day trip to northern France, W and I hadn't been in much contact, only exchanging emails and making a few phone calls occasionally. In our calls and emails, it was as if nothing had happened; we didn't exchange anything beyond what ordinary friends would say. Perhaps there was never any real affection between us, only passion. She emailed to say her training was basically over and she wanted to join a tour group to Italy early next month, spend a few days in Paris in the middle of the month, and then return home. She asked if my place was okay for her to stay for a few days.

Just as I was about to reply, overjoyed, that it was no problem, I first checked my girlfriend's email. She said my mom told her that her aunt's daughter, Xiao K, just graduated from high school and will be studying in France next month at a business school in Lyon. Since all classes are taught in English, she hasn't learned a word of French. Hearing from my mom that I'm in France, she insisted I make sure to help Xiao K get everything arranged. I'll pick her up from the airport first, then let her stay in Paris for three or four days. This will allow her to get acquainted with French life—how to use the subway, go to the supermarket, buy groceries, use a mobile phone, etc.—and also to wait for a classmate Xiao K met online, a girl who will be flying to Paris from Beijing. After this girl arrives in Paris, I'll pick her up from the airport, take them both to the train station, buy their train tickets to Lyon, and see them off. Because this girl had already found someone to help her rent an apartment in Lyon, K could share it with her. Damn, this is a huge task! Where

did this K even come from? Later, I called my mom and found out that I'd seen her once when I was in college, at a cousin's wedding. She was still in elementary school then, a little girl. She sat next to me at the wedding banquet. I don't remember what she looked like, just a chubby girl who ate a lot. She must have failed her university entrance exams and is now paying to put on a show. If she has money, she should go to England or America! Coming to France for English classes, I really don't understand.

I noticed that the timing of this girl's arrival seems to conflict with W's. What should I do? After making some arrangements, I immediately replied to W, saying that my cousin was coming to stay with me in the middle of the month, and that she could come to Paris at the beginning of the month to drop off her luggage at my place. I also suggested that she cancel her lease a few days early to save some money for my rent. After arriving in Paris, she would first tour the city, then go on a tour to Italy, and return home directly from Paris.

Later events proved me right. Three days after W left for Italy, that brat K arrived in Paris. If the arrangements had been reversed, W and I wouldn't have had a single day together.

To prepare for W's arrival, I dug out my nearly expired ginseng capsules and took one capsule twice a day for over a week. During those days, I was incredibly energetic, never daydreaming in class, and never being late, which surprised the few girls in my class who were used to my tardiness. From two days before W arrived until she left for Italy, I took two pills every morning, so for more than a week, my little brother was mostly erect. I even changed to a thicker pair of jeans to cover it up. What's worse, I had a nocturnal emission, which I hadn't experienced in a long time. I felt so bad looking at my hard underwear that morning. What a waste! Couldn't I have just waited a couple more days?

Being a man is really not easy!

W arrived at Paris Saint-Nazaré train station in the morning. It happened to be the first weekend of the month, and the museums were free. After helping her carry her two suitcases, one big and one small, home, I immediately went out again. At the metro station, I bought her a metro ticket, explained the route, and then made an excuse that I had class in the afternoon to go home. On the way to my house, we were as polite as any ordinary classmates, without the slightest hint of ambiguity. Her gaze wasn't exactly cold, but it lacked any warmth either. Suddenly, I didn't want to go shopping with her anymore, and I really didn't want to. We went to the Chinese supermarket in Meili City, bought some cooked food and a bottle of 9 euros of red wine, and went home. Now I think I can tell the difference between good and bad red wine, so I usually buy AOCs over 5 euros, and I've gained some knowledge about wine regions. However, this 9 euro Mouton Cadet is still quite expensive; it was my first time buying one.

At 8 pm, W came back. When she hadn't returned by 7 pm, I thought she was lost. But I didn't call her; I just enjoyed my red wine alone at the small table in the living room. We used the stemmed glasses I bought from L.

As soon as she got back, I microwaved a few cooked dishes. She washed her hands and sat down, cross-legged on the small sofa, while I sat on L's two small rugs. We clinked glasses twice to wish her success in her training, and then we started eating. There were quite a few dishes, and I hadn't cooked rice, so we ate very slowly. Around 10 pm, the red wine was almost finished, and we were still talking about pointless things, raising our glasses whenever there was an awkward silence, or exchanging a few compliments.

Then she suddenly asked me, "Is it really your cousin coming?"

I said yes. "You're kidding me, I'll show you the email." As soon as I said it, I regretted it. It was an email from my girlfriend; I wondered what she would think after reading it. Although I didn't care what she thought, she said, "Why would I look at your emails? Just come on over." I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was also secretly pleased; she was a little jealous, wasn't she?

She asked again, "Is she really your cousin?" I said yes, she's from my aunt's side. Actually, she's my cousin's wife, not related to me by blood. But of course, I couldn't say "cousin." I added, "You can look at my emails."

She said, "No need. I was thinking you didn't want me staying at your house." Hearing that, I felt a surge of joy; she really was jealous.

She said with a sigh of relief, "Okay then." She proactively raised her glass and said, "Let's finish this last bit," and downed nearly a third of the glass of red wine in one gulp. I was planning to sip it slowly, but now I had to gulp it down too.

She stood up and said, "You clean up the leftovers, I'm going to take a shower. You can make the bed too." Then she pulled out a large bag and went into the bathroom.

I dumped all the leftovers into the trash bag, quickly washed the two bowls and cups, and was still pondering what she meant by "tidying up the bed"—did she mean adding another sofa bed, or something else? I didn't dare do much more, just gathered the clothes from the crib and made the bed. I turned off the main light and switched to the bedside lamp

. Just as I was burying my head in the closet looking for my pajama bottoms, she came out of the bathroom, drying her long, black hair, wearing only a towel. "Little JJ,"

she said, "you should go take a shower too." I quickly showered and came out. Wearing only my underwear, I walked up to her. She was already sitting on the bed, the blanket covering her chest. She glanced at the bulging crotch of my underwear and asked, "Why didn't you come with me to the museum? You told me you were going to school this weekend?" I realized, oh yeah, I'd given myself away. So I said, "Actually, I was doing a project with my classmates, just copying their class notes." She said, "Paris is great, even the copy shops near the school are open on weekends." I was speechless. Okay, enough with the lie, I'm just lazy. Stop pretending! She didn't intend to delve deeper. "Come here." I took a step forward, and she reached out and pulled down my underwear, my penis sprang out. "Let me see if you've used it lately." She grabbed my testicles with one hand and started moving my penis with the other. The blanket wrapped around my chest loosened under her movements, and my two firm breasts swayed out. I leaned forward, wanting her to give me oral sex, but she didn't turn her head. She continued to vigorously stroke my throbbing, veiny penis, rubbing my testicles and saying, "Looks like you're well-maintained, you have a lot of hair." I like men with lots of hair. "Get on." I sat down in the covers, not kissing her, but directly taking her firm breasts into my mouth and sucking hard, circling her nipples. One hand stroked her soft pubic hair, occasionally brushing against her deeply hidden clitoris; but never touching lower. Her hand holding my penis never let go, slowly but forcefully masturbating me. I kissed one of her breasts, then moved upwards, lingering on her neck and behind her ears for a long time, all the way to the back of her neck. She cooperated by lowering her head, exposing the back of her neck. I could feel she was enjoying it, because the movement of her hand holding my penis noticeably slowed down. When I kissed back down her neck to her throat and shoulders, she actively moved her shoulders towards me, her hips gently lifting upwards. One of my hands was still stroking her pubic hair, but I pressed her clitoris more often. As I kissed her from her shoulder down to between her breasts, her navel, and her lower abdomen, her hand holding my penis loosened slightly. Before she could grab it again, I had already buried my nose in that small tuft of soft pubic hair. My fingers slid from her clitoris to the entrance of her vagina, which was already completely wet. Looking closely, I saw a glistening, pale pink opening, slightly parted, with a few small bubbles of vaginal fluid quietly flowing out. I straightened her body and slowly inserted my swollen glans into her vagina, rubbing it against the entrance, while one hand gently caressed her neck and earlobe. Two or three minutes later, I saw her slightly open eyes become hazy, and as her moans grew louder, I thrust my entire penis in all the way, each time all the way in, only pulling it out halfway before thrusting in and out. Her voice suddenly became louder. There was a hissing sound of water being squeezed out from below. I didn't stop or adjust the rhythm, thrusting straight into her core for four or five minutes each time. Her legs went from being spread apart on the bed, to wrapped around my waist, to being spread apart and upright on their own, and finally back on the bed, raising her waist and buttocks to meet my thrusts. A surge of heat coursed through my body to my penis. I didn't stop. I braced my hands on either side of her head and thrust forcefully. She was already pushed against the headboard, only able to turn her head to the side, her mouth open, emitting low sounds from her throat. Her hands gripped my arms, shaking rapidly in rhythm with me, as if encouraging me. I used all my strength to ejaculate wildly inside her, the bed frame thumping against the wall. She cried out, her head tilting back, completely still. I lay on top of her for about ten minutes before I came to my senses. She was still just breathing heavily, her mouth open, motionless. When my limp penis fell out, a large gush of white liquid gushed out, flowing down her buttocks. She quickly stood up, saying she couldn't get it on the sheets. I lay on my side, still holding my penis, and watched her walk into the bathroom. By then, the milky white semen had already flowed down her inner thighs and onto her calves. 14 She washed herself and came out, and I immediately went in to rinse off and lather up with soap. When I came out, I thought she was asleep, but she was sitting on the bed hugging my computer. "Going online?" I asked her. "No, I can't sleep." "Just checking what videos you have on your computer." I crawled into bed, moved my notebook onto myself, and went into the movie folder to pick out some films. She had sharp eyes and pointed to a folder labeled "Teaching Materials," saying, "Why did you put this in the movie folder?" I opened it for her, and she immediately understood—it was full of my treasured pornographic films. " Let's watch this one." "Let's find something good." I figured she wouldn't like anything too explicit, so I played her a self-shot video of Hilton in Paris. She still likes reading gossip news and immediately recognized it as a very famous film online. "I can't believe you even found this one." She seemed very interested. The film started with oral sex and a handsome American man's huge penis. She looked quite surprised watching that large penis penetrate Hilton's lower body with such powerful thrusting. It made her act like she never watched porn, but watching porn in China is definitely not as convenient as it is abroad. It's not easy to download; you have to buy DVDs to watch it. It's not as widespread as it is overseas. The video wasn't long; the last part was a long oral sex scene. It sounded monotonous, but she didn't fast-forward. She kept staring at the big penis in the video, and her hand moved from my thigh to my penis, gently stroking it. My penis also looked quite impressive; it was erect again. She pretended to be surprised and said, "Handsome guy is quite powerful!" I grinned and said, "Beautiful lady is quite sexy!" As I said this, I reached down and touched her genitals. Oh dear, it was all wet. I took my finger out and looked; it was clear and transparent. She was a little embarrassed and said, "What are you looking at?" Without saying a word, I put down my notebook and immediately spread her legs and started fucking her. This time, I even paid attention to the nine shallow and one deep positions, and she looked at me with great charm, moaning softly. Every now and then, as I pulled my penis out, she would reach down and touch it. I fucked her at a leisurely pace, occasionally praising how tight she was, how wet she was, and how good her skin was. She also asked me if I was comfortable and said she liked looking at the hair on my genitals. We chatted and fucked each other intermittently for a good thirty minutes. My arms started to ache, so I sped up and fucked for another ten minutes or so before I was about to ejaculate. Suddenly, she said I should watch her cum, and she reached out and pulled my penis out, quickly masturbating me. Less than half a minute later, I ejaculated powerfully with a very pleasurable spasm, spraying it onto her breasts. As I ejaculated a second time, she immediately inserted her slippery penis back into her vagina, saying, "Faster." Without her saying anything, I quickly started moving again, ejaculating about ten more times, and she convulsed a few times in response. After I finished, I continued thrusting for a minute or two until my penis completely shrank, at which point her convulsions finally stopped. Both of them were exhausted and didn't even shower. They just wiped themselves with tissues from the bedside table, and she put a few more sheets underneath them before turning off the light and going to sleep. I had class the next morning, but even after my phone alarm went off, I didn't move and continued sleeping. It wasn't until I vaguely felt a pleasant itching sensation down there that I woke up. Her head was buried in the pillow, and one hand was already arousing my penis. I said, "Your morning call service is really good. Let me call you too." I reached down and touched her vulva. She had already removed the tissues underneath, but I could still feel some scraps of paper stuck to it. I directly inserted my finger into her half-dry, half-wet opening and started rubbing it. I quickly felt her getting wetter, so I hurriedly knelt between her legs, moistened my penis with saliva, and slowly inserted it into her vagina. Her genitals were a darker color and probably a little swollen. After a few gentle thrusts, I suddenly realized something was wrong—there was red stuff. She said, "Oh no, I've started my period," pushed me away, and looked down to see a red patch on my glans.

"Really," she muttered, "annoying," and ran into the bathroom.

Naturally, we didn't do anything for the next three days, not even touching. I went to school during the day, she went out, we had dinner together in the evenings, and even watched a movie. We went to a travel agency together and booked a tour for her. On the morning of the fourth day, she packed her bag and went to Italy. As soon as she left, I got up and went to school, mainly to ask the five Chinese girls in my class if any of them would let her stay one night when she returned from Italy in six days. Just one night was enough, because she was flying to Shanghai the next day.

I

really didn't want to host Xiao K, mainly because she bought a China Eastern Airlines ticket. I don't understand if China Eastern was being stingy, or if the French were taking advantage of her, scheduling a China Eastern flight to land at 6:30 am, meaning she could normally be out with her luggage by 7 am. Getting to the airport from my house requires taking the subway and then transferring to a suburban express train, which takes at least an hour. Damn it, I have to leave before 6 a.m.

I packed up all the women's things. Actually, W had already packed most of them before leaving for Italy. I carefully checked the house and there were no signs of any woman having been there, except for W's red suitcase. I'll just say a friend left it at my place. Later, when W returned from Italy, that girl K had already stayed at my house for a few days, so I didn't let W come over. I sent her directly to my university classmate MM's house in the Jewish Quarter area south of Paris. I even treated MM to two meals at a Chinese restaurant in the 13th arrondissement.

When W came back, she seemed very unhappy because I told her my cousin had come, and she knew she had to stay somewhere else. But she didn't say anything, and politely said she had troubled me again. Fortunately, she was quite tactful, and my classmate had a good impression of her, so she wasn't too much of a bother. After staying at my classmate's house for one night, the next morning, the international student I had booked online picked me up from my apartment building with my luggage, and then drove to the Jewish Quarter to pick up W.

However, W didn't let me see her off. She gave me a light hug and said there was no need for me to see her off; it would cost an extra ten euros to take her to the airport and bring her back. I didn't insist, closed the car door for her, rubbed my hand against her face, and said, "Take care." She hummed in agreement and said, "You too."

Then the car drove away.

Speaking of which, while W was in Italy, my girlfriend and I talked a lot online about that brat, Xiao K, and my mother repeatedly told me on the phone to take good care of my younger sister. She had only just graduated from high school and had never left home before. My mom asked if I remembered what Xiao K looked like. I said I didn't, and that I could just get a piece of paper with her name on it at the airport. My mom said, "That won't do. It's dangerous if others know her name. I'll send you a picture." This old lady's vigilance is a bit too much!

That evening, I received an email from my girlfriend forwarding a picture of her, reminding me that Xiao K would arrive early the day after tomorrow, and not to forget. I opened the attached photo and was stunned. That brat had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, dressed in summer clothes, with a slightly baby face and a small, full chest. With three rather plain-looking female classmates beside her, "pretty" wouldn't be an accurate word; she was simply youthful and radiant. My girlfriend said that last week, Xiao K and her mother stayed at my house for three days. My girlfriend helped her buy a lot of household items; they're practically like sisters now. She said Xiao K would keep an eye on me when she came over.

I replied that I wouldn't forget the day after tomorrow. She's not bad looking, much younger than you. Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of her? Lying in bed that night, I couldn't sleep. I'd had sex with W twice a few days ago and had been holding back ever since. Now that I had someone to fantasize about, I felt really hot down there. While masturbating, I thought, I definitely can't date this girl. Although we're not related by blood, our families know each other, and her family knows about my girlfriend. Even if she agreed, my mom, my girlfriend and her mom, plus Xiao K's mom, would kill me!

Thinking of this, Xiao JJ immediately slumped down. Oh well, I'll just feast my eyes.

The next morning, I received an email from my girlfriend saying, "If you can get him, go for it. It's good to keep the good stuff in

the family. If you have the guts, go ahead and try. He's over 18. Just don't come crying to me later."

I immediately replied with a letter like a guarantee, swearing I wouldn't lay a finger on Xiao K.

I had class in the morning, so I sat on the toilet, bored, waiting to poop. I stared blankly at the bathroom lock, but unfortunately, it wasn't an old-fashioned lock, without a keyhole like the ones from C brand. I guess I wouldn't get to enjoy the view.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off! I could change the lock! Damn it, when lust takes hold, I'm capable of anything. I've never even laid a light bulb in China, and now I'm facing a huge challenge. I even skipped pooping, pulled up my pants, grabbed a ruler, quickly measured the inside and outside of the door lock, and took a few pictures with my phone. Then I rushed out the door.

I ran to school for class, but there was no way around it; they took attendance. Luckily, today's class only took attendance before class started. It was a two-hour class, so I grabbed my bag and ran during the break. The afternoon class was a long lecture, so there wouldn't be attendance; I could just copy the notes.

Back in central Paris, I spent over an hour in a large building materials store near the Pompidou Centre. I spent ages asking the salesperson for help, showing them my sketches and the photos on my phone, before finally figuring it out. I only intended to replace the lock cylinder, but now it seems I need to replace both side panels, both handles, and the central lock cylinder, otherwise they won't match. Gritting my teeth, this is a long-term investment, so I bought it, including two screwdrivers, for nearly 40 euros. It hurts so much.

I didn't throw away the old lock I took out; I hid it. If I move, I'll have to put it back in. I can't let the next tenant benefit from it. But maybe the next tenant won't be as lewd as me. No matter how much I tidy up, the house is still so small. We definitely won't be sleeping in the same bed tomorrow night. I found new sheets and duvet covers and put the old ones aside to use as a mattress pad on the small, worn-out sofa in the living room tomorrow. There was only one blanket, but thankfully I had a sleeping bag. Everyone else uses sleeping bags for outdoor activities, but I've never used one outside. I bought it for 13 euros on sale. I can't help it; I've realized I'm just like any other woman—I buy things whenever they're cheap, regardless of their usefulness.

That night, I was so excited I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of C's body through the keyhole. It was like watching porn—very clear. Thick pubic hair, plump labia minora. The thought of that scene soon playing out again made me incredibly excited. It's a pity the keyhole is too small; it wasn't enough to satisfy my craving. Thinking this, I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, removed the key from the lock, and hid it. Without the key, the usable area of the keyhole doubled! I couldn't help but feel smug.

I tossed and turned in bed like a pancake, finally drifting off to sleep. It felt like I was just starting to dream when my phone alarm went off. I grabbed my laptop and checked the flight status to see if there were any delays, hoping I could sleep a little longer. The estimated arrival time was 6:05! Crazy! Why the rush?!

I jumped out of bed. After a moment's hesitation, I quickly washed my hair—I'd shaved last night. First impressions are important, after all. I didn't forget to spray on some cologne, chewed some gum, and went downstairs.

I arrived at the airport arrival hall a little after 7:00. The screen showed baggage claim had started half an hour ago. I ran to the passenger exit and looked around. It was full of Chinese people coming out. I specifically looked at the young women, but none of them looked like her. I regretted not printing out their photos to bring with me.

Just then, someone gently tapped my back from behind. I turned around and there was the pretty girl from the photo, standing behind me. She called out shyly, "Brother."

That call made me feel incredibly happy. "Little K! What happened to your hair? It's a little different from the photo." Seeing it was indeed me, her tone immediately changed. "I've been out for 10 minutes! Why did it take you so long? If you hadn't come soon, I would have cried."

"Sorry, sorry, it's too early, there aren't many subways." I quickly pushed the trolley next to her and walked out.

She followed, carrying a small red backpack, and casually hooked her arm around mine. As we walked and talked, she said, "Isn't it said that haircuts are expensive in France? So my mom let me get a lot cuts, so I can go a year without a haircut." Her hair was tied up, with only a small tail less than five centimeters long.

"Brother, you smell so good! Do all French men wear cologne?" She immediately felt close to me. "You look much younger than in the photos," she said. "My sister says you look like a little old man." She called my girlfriend "sister."

We sat facing each other on the subway. She was curious about everything the whole way, asking questions non-stop. One minute she was talking about what my mom was saying, the next she was talking about what my sister was saying, and she even talked about how beautiful the photos of Paris I sent her were, how pretty the girls on the street were, how well they dressed, etc. When she got excited, she grabbed my hand and shook it, wanting me to take her to see Paris properly.

We chatted and laughed intimately and arrived home quickly. As soon as she entered the door, she paused for a moment, rushed into the inner room without even taking off her shoes, and turned back to me shouting, "That's all?" I asked, "What? That's all?" She asked, "Are there no other rooms?" Oh my god, she thought she was still at home, in her family's 200-square-meter apartment.

Having never been to university, she had no idea this was much more spacious than the eight-person dorm rooms. "

Let's go shopping," she suggested, sitting on my small bed and pulling out her camera from her backpack.

I boiled some water and sat down next to her, munching on bread. "We need to rest a bit. You slept for over ten hours on the plane, while I only slept three or four hours last night. I have class this afternoon." "

Oh right, you have class. How about I go with you to listen to the lecture and see the Parisian campus?" "No way, she'll be so disappointed if she sees the French university campuses." I said, "Forget it, I won't go to school. I'll go out with you."

"Really? You're skipping class? Won't the teacher scold you?" I said, "It's okay."

She was very happy and said, "Then you can run away this once. I won't tell your mom." Okay?

She went to the bathroom and we left. I was still outside, a little nervous, when she went into the bathroom. Luckily, she didn't mention there was no latch on the door, nor did she ask why it had this old-fashioned keyhole. She treated me like family, without any wariness, or maybe the little girl just wasn't wary at all, or maybe only a big pervert like me would think of the ingenious use of a keyhole.

I accompanied her to see the Eiffel Tower. As soon as we exited the subway, we saw the majestic tower standing in front of us. She excitedly grabbed my hand and ran forward, urging me to hurry up. We headed home at 5 PM on the

17th . Since we didn't have anything to eat at home, we bought a large pizza for two from a nearby pizza shop. She was very excited at the shop, exclaiming how delicious it smelled. Watching the pizza slowly emerge from the oven, she was as happy as if she had made it herself. After finishing the pizza at home, she said she was full and flopped onto my bed without saying a word. A few minutes later, she sat up and said, "Brother, I'm sleepy. I want to wash up and go to sleep." " You little piggy, eating and then sleeping," I said, though I knew she wasn't jet-lagged yet. She should be sleepy by now. She took out toiletries and a change of clothes from her large suitcase and placed them on the small sofa. I was cleaning up the pizza mess next to her when my eyes immediately fell on her panties under her pajamas on the sofa—the kind covered in cartoon characters. Sigh, she's almost 19, still acting like a child. While she was rummaging through her suitcase, I was having a fierce internal struggle. Should I feast my eyes? She's my sister, though not really my biological sister, but she calls me "brother" so affectionately. How could I bring myself to do it? I was so conflicted. I wanted to fully experience the romantic life in France. Suddenly, she said, "Find a French boyfriend and experience it. Or maybe we shouldn't come back to China and just stay here. Or maybe you shouldn't go back either, and after I've experienced the French, we can get married and live together in France." Are you crazy? I'm your brother! "You're not my real brother, and my mom actually likes you quite a bit. It's a shame you're with my sister, otherwise I'd be with you. Am I prettier than my sister? Hehe." After saying that, she wiggled her hips at me in a flirtatious manner, then smiled cutely as she took her clothes and went into the bathroom. Her words immediately made me make a decision. She's just an ordinary girl, just like any other girl to me. I quickly dried my hands. As soon as she closed the bathroom door, she turned off the living room light. A faint, radiating beam of light immediately shone out from the bathroom door lock. After a rustling of a plastic bag inside, I heard the toilet seat sink. I stood at the doorway, looking at that wicked little eye—truly, evil comes from within! I gritted my teeth and squatted down. At first, I didn't dare get too close, but I could vaguely see someone moving around in the keyhole. I slowly pressed my eye against the keyhole, gently resting my glasses against the metal panel of the lock, making only a very slight sound. She was taking off her clothes with her back to the door, placing them one by one on the toilet to the left. The sound I heard earlier was from her lowering the toilet seat to place her clothes. My bathroom isn't as well-designed as C's, haha, from a spying perspective, it's not. Pulling the bathroom door open, there's a large mirror on the inside, about 60 centimeters high. I usually use this mirror as a full-length mirror when the bathroom door is open. Directly opposite the bathroom door is a small washbasin with a small mirror on it. Unlike C's house, where the toilet is directly opposite the door, this place had the toilet to the left of the sink and the shower stall, just a small table with a curtain drawn, to the right. When I peeked inside, she had already taken off her trousers, revealing a large cartoon rabbit holding a toilet plunger printed on the back of her underwear, which made me both laugh and cry. Then she took off her shirt, and I could only see her lower back. A few seconds later, she quickly pulled off the cartoon rabbit, revealing a very white, large buttock. Actually, her buttock wasn't big, but she had a bit of baby fat, the kind of cute plumpness, so there were two dimples on the upper sides of her buttocks. I don't know the academic term, but those two small fleshy indentations really looked like dimples, very cute. Her skin was very white, almost pearly white. Because her buttocks were a bit chubby, I couldn't see her genitals from behind. I was hoping she would turn around, but to my disappointment, she went straight to the right into the shower room. She pulled the curtain, and the sound of rushing water filled the air. I stood up, feeling disappointed and unsatisfied. Only then did I realize that her penis was surprisingly well-behaved this time, remaining completely still and unresponsive. I turned on the lights with a heavy heart, tidied up the things on the living room floor, slowly unfolded the small, worn-out sofa, folded the sheets from the inner room that had been changed earlier, and put them on top. I also took out the sleeping bag, opened it, and threw it on the sofa. Lying on the sofa, which was a bit small, I vaguely felt my bottom could touch the ground. Looking at the energy-saving light above, a wave of frustration washed over me. It seemed yesterday's 40-euro investment had gone down the drain. I hadn't properly researched the investment environment beforehand; I could only blame myself for investing blindly. It was like a penniless bourgeois trying to be sophisticated, skipping cheap hotels and insisting on spending more for a room with a view. Now, the money was gone, and I hadn't seen any view at all. I even considered taking the lock off the door tomorrow and returning it to the hotel for a refund. The sound of water inside stopped. I got up from the sofa and squatted again at the bathroom door, wanting to confirm whether my investment had been a complete failure. A moment later, the shower curtain was suddenly pulled open. Her white, tender buttocks reappeared before my eyes. They were beautiful, but 40 euros seemed a bit too expensive. She had already dried herself and was standing in front of the sink, making a series of slapping sounds, probably applying some skincare product to her face. I stared at her two dimples for two minutes, but nothing new happened, so I decided to give up. Just then, she slowly turned around, her lower body directly in my eyes! My eyes widened, and my hand on the doorframe went limp. With a thud, my forehead slammed hard against the door. The sound startled me, and I instinctively sat back on the floor. I heard her shout from inside, "What are you doing?!" I sat on the floor, terrified. She was still yelling from inside, "I'm asking you! Where is she?" I sat on the floor, one hand still supporting myself on the sofa mattress, and answered her in a voice so loud it could be heard, "I'm making the sofa bed!"

"Oh, I thought you were demolishing the house!" Hearing her reply, I breathed a sigh of relief, wiping away non-existent cold sweat, and asked her, "What are you doing?" As soon as I said that, I froze. Damn it, she was taking a shower! What was there to ask? Luckily, I didn't ask, "What are you doing standing behind the door?" "

I'm done showering, putting on a face mask." Listen. She deliberately slapped her face, making a "slap slap" sound.

No wonder she turned around; she was putting on a face mask in front of the big mirror behind the door. I composed myself and quietly climbed back to the doorway to press my face against it.

I couldn't believe my eyes—K had no pubic hair! A flood of words rushed through my mind: bald, rare, cursed husband, underdeveloped…

I remembered reading an erotic novel where the author said he had slept with countless women, hundreds of prostitutes, and had never seen a truly bald woman; the occasional one was artificially created. Could Xiao K have shaved her pubic hair herself?

She's not even 20, doesn't have a boyfriend, why would she shave her pubic hair?

In the less than ten minutes she was wearing a face mask, I probably didn't even blink. What kind of pubic area is that? I guess only one in a thousand, one in ten thousand women don't grow pubic hair, right? I suddenly remembered the email my girlfriend sent me. I said I wanted to date Xiao K, and she confidently said, "Go for it if you dare!" So that's what she meant! I suddenly understood. Then she couldn't have shaved it herself. Isn't it said that anyone who sleeps with a white tiger (a male prostitute) will either die or be seriously injured? I'm a little scared. But, I've never heard of looking at a white tiger bringing bad luck, right?

In the limited time I had, I carefully examined this pubic area less than 20cm away from me. It seemed to still have some hair, albeit downy, but noticeably longer and darker than the surrounding hair. While most were less than half a centimeter long, there were no more than ten perfectly straight, uncurled hairs, nearly a centimeter long, above the small slit near her vulva. So, how could she not be considered a "white tiger" (a female pubic hair)? Before I could savor the sight, she turned around, playfully presenting her white buttocks to my face. She

bent over and washed her face at the sink. Needless to say, this was the only time I got to observe her vulva. I gripped the doorframe with both hands, my nose and one side of my face pressed tightly against the door. This is exactly like the so-called "young and beautiful vulva" I saw online. There's practically no pigmentation, only slightly yellowish compared to the white buttocks next to it. Perhaps the pores there are larger, causing different light reflection and creating a visual color difference.

The vulva looks like a white steamed bun with a slit in the middle, with only a tiny bit of the labia minora showing. The entire vulva is tightly closed, not a single hair visible. Unfortunately, the anus, which must also be very beautiful, isn't showing at all.

Little K was startled when she came out of the bathroom. I was lying on the sofa bed looking at the computer, and the sofa bed was right across the bathroom doorway. When she pushed the door open, she brought out a pleasant scent, which I took as the scent of a virgin and sniffed hard. She stepped on my butt and said, "Poor thing, you're so nice to me. Why don't you come and squeeze in with me?"

I didn't even look up and said, "No need, you should rest. You must be exhausted." I thought to myself, "How can you be considered a 90% 'white tiger' (a term for a woman who is sexually active but physically weak)? I don't have that kind of 'power' to fight you. Besides, if my girlfriend finds out, she'll definitely find out too, and then Little K's mom will cut me up."

Little K was very touched and immediately straddled my waist, saying, "You're so nice, let me give you a massage." She pretended to massage me a couple of times and then got up. She yawned, got onto the small bed in the inner room, and less than five minutes later, she was snoring softly.

I rolled over and lay there, feeling strange that Little JJ hadn't gotten up even once all night. Perhaps it was also deeply ashamed of not being a Azure Dragon, hiding in its fur, too embarrassed to come out. Although I was a little sleepy, it was still early, and I didn't want to

sleep

yet. I took my notebook to the inner room, placed it on the small desk, and opened MSN to chat with someone. Little K was sleeping soundly beside me. She was wearing Disney floral pajamas and a large white t-shirt with three Mickey Mouse sons printed on the left chest. It was still quite warm, so she wasn't covered by a blanket, only draped a corner over her stomach, her legs spread wide open like a child's.

I sat in the folding chair, watching her with mixed feelings. Her face was rosy, though not small, just a bit childlike. Fine downy hairs clung to her cheeks, like fuzzy peaches, their redness showing through—so tender and delicate. Her hair was messy and scattered across her forehead. Her eyelashes were long, somewhat like those of the female Mickey Mouse from Disney, if I remember correctly. Her lips were slightly parted, occasionally trembling. I really, really wanted to kiss her. Of course, I wasn't that bold.

Lying there, her nipples were clearly visible beneath her white t-shirt. Even lying down, the outline of her breasts was discernible—well-developed! Why wasn't her genitals developed? I wondered.

Suddenly, my notebook made a loud noise, startling me. I turned my head and saw it was a friend sending me a notification ringtone on MSN. I quickly turned off the computer sound, but the ringtone still woke K up. Luckily, she lazily rolled over and said, "Brother, aren't you going to sleep yet?" and then fell silent. Her sideways movement revealed the middle part of her white t-shirt tucked into her cleavage—and it was really quite large! At least a B cup, if not a C. Sigh, typical uneven development!

I turned around to email my girlfriend. I had already called K's mom from a public phone booth at the airport using my Chinese SIM card to let her know I was safe, but I hadn't told my girlfriend yet. I briefly described today's events, even praising K as a Sailor Moon. I shamelessly went on to say that I was sleeping with her that night and would definitely let her experience what it's like to be a woman, and other such lewd fantasies. Since my girlfriend and I have hardly ever had any sexual intimacy back home, I often act arrogantly, threatening to force myself on her or sleep with some other beautiful woman. My girlfriend knows I'm just being cheeky and never gets angry; sometimes she even gives me suggestions on how to do it. We often hug and laugh happily about this. I know my girlfriend isn't sexually mature, but she's a really good girl, as considerate and understanding as my little tank top.

I slept soundly tonight, without fantasizing about anyone or masturbating as usual. I thought about my plans for the next few days and then went to sleep. I definitely didn't sleep much last night either.

At 6 a.m., I was woken up by Xiao K. She went to the bathroom, then to get me water, walking back and forth beside me. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair as she walked. As she walked past me again, I suddenly grabbed her ankle, startling her. She laughed and squatted down to hit me. I pulled her, and she ended up sitting sideways on the edge of the sofa, patting my face and saying, "Brother, your snoring is so loud, it's comparable to my dad's!" Luckily, I'm immune to it, or I'd go crazy. "Get up, get up!"

she said, pinching my cheek. "Your face is so oily, I can't even pinch it!" Meanwhile, she scratched my stomach and lower back with her other hand, trying to tickle me. Instinctively, I bent over to avoid her hand. As a result of that movement, her hand, which was randomly scratching my stomach, grabbed my erect penis firmly. Before she could react, she turned her head away, immediately flung her hand away, and turned back, blushing, said, "Get up!" and went into the bathroom. It felt like I had deliberately shoved my penis into her hand, which made me quite embarrassed.

While she was in the bathroom, I went on MSN to chat with my girlfriend. As soon as she saw I was online at work, she sent me a message: "Did you have a good time last night?" I

said, "Yeah, it was amazing. Several times!"

She asked again, "How did it feel? Anything special?"

I said it was very exciting, that she was really good at it, with huge breasts, a soft butt, and a really tight vagina!

She continued, "What else is special about her?

Women are all pretty much the same, what else could be special about her? Like, maybe she has an extra breast?"

Upon hearing this, she sent a smiley face and said, "You silly girl, you're fantasizing again! Don't think I don't know, you're just a coward! I still trust you quite a bit, you definitely didn't do anything to her."

Hearing this, I knew my girlfriend knew relatively little about Xiao K's pubic area. She was trying to test me, haha, she only knew she was a "little white tiger" after we'd slept together!

I dropped Xiao K off at the Louvre entrance to queue, gave her a few instructions, and then went to school. She had enough time to shop all day; I had two classes at school, and attendance was taken. I wanted to pass all my exams in my first year and couldn't miss too many classes.

I'd pick her up at 6 PM. After picking Xiao K up on the afternoon of the

20th

, we took the subway for a few stops to see the Arc de Triomphe. As she walked hand-in-hand with me on the Champs-élysées, I felt a warm glow inside, and also a little proud. Walking down the street with a girl like Xiao K made me feel a bit proud. I hoped we'd run into someone I knew. But Little K didn't see it that way. She kept showing me this handsome guy, that handsome guy, as if I wasn't a man at all, completely disregarding my feelings. So I retaliated by showing her foreign women, constantly comparing them to her. "This one has bigger breasts than you," "This one has a better figure," "That one looks like a real woman," or "Her waist is thinner than yours." Even when she saw a Japanese woman, who seemed unremarkable, I said, "Don't judge a book by its cover, she's very good at pleasing people, and she's amazing in that area!"

This really annoyed Little K so much that she shook off my hand and walked away alone.

I used the tricks I used to use to coax my girlfriends, catching up to her, putting my hand on her waist and showering her with sweet words, ending with, "Let me treat you to Western food." This time she immediately took my arm, smiling like a flower, "I love Western food!"

I pointed to a large "M" and cautiously asked, "McDonald's isn't Chinese food, is it?"

Her mouth twisted in anger.

When she stormed to the McDonald's, I grabbed her hand and rushed across the street as the pedestrian light turned green. I knew that on this street, besides burger and fries shops, this was the only Brussels chain restaurant called "Leon" that I could afford. It

cost 35 euros for the two of us, plus two glasses of red wine. Little K ate very happily, her cheeks flushed as she looked at me and said she wished she could be with me like this every day. Damn it, I thought to myself, if this continues every day, I'll be bankrupt and have to go back home in less than six months; if this continues every day, my dad will beat my leg into nunchucks; if this continues every day, my girlfriend will be devastated…

I can't encourage this kind of thinking in the little girl, especially my wicked intentions. I immediately told her about the stress of studying in France, the difficulty of the exams, and the horror of the proctors; then there were the trivialities of life, the burden of expenses, and the expectations of my family; finally, I specifically mentioned my girlfriend and our strong relationship.

She immediately deflated. On the way home, she kept sighing and asking me what I would do going to Lyon alone.

But before we even got home, she forgot all about it and happily said that she would definitely treat me to dinner tomorrow and asked me to find a place. Sigh, they really don't cry until they see the coffin.

After getting home, Xiao K wanted to write an email to his classmate, probably wanting to show off by posting some photos he'd taken the past two days. I went to take a shower first, and while I was showering, the thought of Xiao K coming to shower again soon made my penis, which hadn't been active for days, immediately stand up. Since I'd already set a rule for myself—absolutely no getting involved with Xiao K—it was understandable to take a few extra glances. But I couldn't just keep looking at his white butt! If some girl came later, this 40-euro door lock couldn't just let me see his butt.

As I dried myself off, I looked around the small bathroom, my penis erect. There's no vent, and the bottom of the door only has a gap about a centimeter high—enough to see through. Even sticking a small mirror in wouldn't work; the door's too thick to reflect light. Actually, all I needed was a small, rotatable camera like those used by special forces in movies—that would be a huge investment! So, this keyhole is the only way to see through. But I can't exactly move the toilet to face the lock. No other option, I stared at the long mirror behind the door and came up with a desperate plan.

I took down the small mirror hanging above the sink, grabbed a few plastic bottles of shampoo, soap, and other toiletries from the sink, and gently tossed them all from about half a meter above the ground. With a loud crash, the small mirror shattered into three pieces.

What happened? What happened? I heard K's worried voice outside, and soon she knocked on the door, asking, "What's wrong, brother?"

I pulled on my shorts and opened the door, shirtless. She seemed a little embarrassed to see me shirtless, so I pretended to cover my chest with a towel and said, "I was trying to wipe the condensation off the mirror, and I accidentally knocked it off." "

Is the person alright? Did they get scratched?" She was quite concerned about me. It made me feel embarrassed about my own clumsiness. "

It's okay, it's okay, I got out of there quickly. Don't worry, I'll clean up, you go to the internet cafe." Seeing that she didn't seem suspicious, I was quite pleased with this little investment. Because I knew that a mirror like that only cost a few euros. "

Okay, just be careful not to cut yourself." After she said that, she ripped the towel off my chest and said, "What are you covering up for? There's nothing there!"

After I finished cleaning up and made sure there was no broken glass on the floor, I called her, "You can take a shower now." She had just sent out a long email to a group and stood up to find some clean clothes. After

she went into the bathroom, I waited for about two minutes, figuring she wouldn't come out again because she realized she'd forgotten something. Then I turned off the living room light and squatted down in front of the "evil cave."

A butt, another butt! It immediately reminded me of throwing knives, another throwing knife.

I guessed she'd go into the shower after that, and I was just about to rest and wait for her to put on her face mask before looking at her again, when she suddenly turned around—brushing her teeth! She was brushing her teeth in front of the mirror! I'm so clever, a small investment, a huge reward!

I guessed she was brushing her teeth while studying something on her face.

The few pubic hairs were flattened and lay above her clitoris, and I could see a small fleshy growth above the slit that looked like a clitoris, but it was clamped too tightly. The keyhole was on one side of the mirror; if she stood too close, I could only see one side of her hip. So my optimal viewing distance was about 30 centimeters. Closer would give a clearer view, but it would be more difficult, requiring me to tilt my head.

As she faced the sink, she occasionally bent over to rinse her mouth. I seized those brief seconds to properly admire her fair vulva from behind. She was as beautiful as a little girl; how wonderful it would be to bury my face in it! Thinking of this, my little penis finally mustered the courage to lift its head. But to be honest, even if K were lying naked in front of me, I wouldn't sleep with her. There are too many reasons. Even disregarding the issue of her being a virgin, and her mother's scissors, she's still a virgin. I can't just sleep with her and then ignore her. Besides, I've already started to like this little girl from the bottom of my heart; so I've always wanted to avoid using the unlucky term "virgin" to describe K.

After all, having a few pubic hairs means she's no longer a virgin.

For the next three days, I made good use of the opportunity I gained by breaking the small mirror to thoroughly examine K's genitals. It was truly a feast for the eyes. Although I still prefer girls with some dark pubic hair, because that makes it look like a proper lower body and arouses sexual desire, I extremely cherished this rare opportunity to see K's lower body. I think I'll never have another chance like this, and that lower body is definitely a work of art.

Works of art shouldn't be licked, so even though I've seen K's lower body so many times, I've never masturbated.

The day after I returned from Italy, after putting her in the car that was picking her up, my feelings were complicated. Actually, there wasn't a shred of love, not even a hint of affection, but just a few days ago we were so intimate, and now two passionate people were suddenly at the end of their road—it all felt strange. Actually, women are better at separating love and sex than men. When men and women without feelings have sex, men often develop a lot of dependence, but women are different. Once they know there's no future, they cut ties very cleanly in their hearts.

Thankfully, Xiao K was at home, which quickly helped me temporarily shake off my unwarranted melancholy. Every day after class, I hummed a little tune on my way home, imagining what it would be like to watch some delicious abalone that night. Before I knew it, Xiao K had been staying at my house for five days. On the sixth day, I had no choice but to skip class again to pick up Xiao K's classmate whom I had never met before from the airport. Xiao K said early in the morning that she had a stomachache and needed to pack her luggage, so she asked me to go to the airport alone, saying we'd talk after I got home.

Actually, I didn't want Xiao K to come along. A round-trip airport ticket costs over ten euros, and if she came with me, I'd have to pay for it! I'm such a calculating person! Besides, Xiao K wouldn't be able to carry any luggage, so I'd rather stay home and pack, and we could just put them on the train together in the evening. There are plenty of trains to Lyon, it only takes two hours, so there's no rush.

Little K didn't have a photo of her, so I printed out an A4 sheet welcoming Little Q and waited at the airport passenger exit.

I wondered if it would be a dinosaur from the north. Many girls' eyes briefly lingered on my A4 sheet, but none of them did. When a fat dinosaur walked towards my A4 sheet, I almost wanted to run away. Luckily, she got closer, squinted to see the words, and walked away.

Just as my heart was pounding wildly, a long-haired, bespectacled woman with curly hair pushed a cart towards me with a very polite smile. Because of the fat dinosaur's contrast, I actually thought she was a beautiful woman, an intellectual beauty, but she didn't look like she was only a year or two older than Xiao K; she looked like she was two years older than me, probably because of her hairstyle.

I grabbed the stroller and asked if she was Xiao Q. Xiao K was tidying up at home, and I was her cousin. She said she heard from Xiao K that she had a cousin in Paris. She thanked me politely. She took something out of her pocket and clipped her hair back, carrying only a small bag as she walked beside me.

As I introduced her to things in France, regardless of how much she knew, I first reminded her of many things to be careful about in France, and even added that a beautiful girl like her should be even more careful when traveling alone.

I'm the kind of person who occasionally adds a few flattering remarks when I'm talking, subtly praising her. Less than half an hour later, before we even got home, we were already chatting away. Especially on the subway, when we were talking face-to-face, she was practically gesturing wildly as she spoke, having completely forgotten the intellectual air she projected through her frameless glasses. Chatting with young women like this is basically one of my specialties. I also try to appear quiet but thoughtful. Before we even got off the subway, she had already asked for my phone number.

After taking a second look at her on the subway, I realized she was just average-looking, nowhere near as attractive as Xiao K. When I asked, she said she was three years younger than me, but looked about my age. I even had to reluctantly compliment her, saying that if it weren't for her hairstyle, I would have thought she was a high school graduate! She even went so far as to say that I looked too young, so she got a more mature hairstyle to make me appear more grown-up.

Sigh, if she were a high school graduate, my little K would be in elementary school!

No matter how much she styles her hair, she can't look mature. Without me even asking, she gave a very detailed self-introduction. She dropped out of university in China after only two years. Mainly due to precocious puberty, she started dating in high school. She was originally in the top three of her class (that's what she said, but she didn't seem like it), but her grades plummeted, and she only got into a third-rate university. She even managed to get that boy from the next class into a vocational college. Luckily, they both got into universities in the same city, and they rented an apartment together in their second year. But her mother soon found out that she was still with that good-for-nothing boy, and had lured her out with the promise of a wonderful life in France, breaking up the young couple. However, judging from her tone, she seemed relieved; that boy also seemed like someone you couldn't rely on for life.

Her family was well-off, but her mother still hoped she could bring a foreign son-in-law home. I immediately seized the opportunity and said, "Don't rush. A pretty and sensible girl like you doesn't need to look around. French guys will definitely come looking for you. Just take your time choosing." When we got to her apartment building, I saw her 30 kilograms of luggage and asked if she wanted to leave it downstairs. I would go upstairs to carry K's luggage down so we could take a taxi to the train station to eat and buy train tickets, saving us the trouble of carrying it up and down again.

She actually said that the friend who was supposed to pick her up in Lyon was in Marseille tonight, had an internship interview tomorrow morning, and wouldn't be back in Lyon until tomorrow afternoon to pick them up and take them to their accommodation; could she and Xiao K squeeze in for the night?

I was speechless. I couldn't go to class tomorrow morning again! Lately, when I've been at school, those girls have all thought something was wrong with me, as if it's normal for me not to go to class. I can't skip any more, or I won't graduate!

I have to pretend to be very welcoming, saying how great it is, two beautiful girls are staying at my place tonight. But don't worry, I'll sleep in the living room. I guess she already sees me as a new kind of good guy, haha.

I used the intercom to grab Xiao K's bag, but when she came down, she hugged Xiao Q very warmly and chatted, saying she had a stomachache and actually pulled Xiao Q upstairs by herself. I had to carry one on my back and lift the other myself as I climbed up.

That evening, I ordered a pizza for two. I originally called the store to have it delivered, but the clerk said there was a buy-one-get-one-free promotion if I picked it up myself. Thinking I could get a little bargain, I told the two girls who were chatting enthusiastically that I was going downstairs to buy pizza. Little K happily said that since I wasn't leaving until tomorrow, we should have some red wine together tonight; it was the first time I'd met Sister Q!

Ugh! I shouldn't have gone downstairs to take advantage of the free pizza; I even had to buy wine on the side. I went downstairs feeling very depressed. While waiting for the pizza, I bought two bottles of red wine for a little over three euros at a nearby Arab-owned grocery store.

Unexpectedly, the two girls had an amazing appetite today. They quickly finished two pizzas meant for two people, and a bottle of red wine was gone in no time. To ensure that Xiao Q would take good care of Xiao K in the future, I even clinked glasses with Xiao Q twice, exchanging many polite words. Xiao Q kept praising me in front of Xiao K, saying things like how lucky she was to have a brother like me. Xiao K, emboldened by the alcohol, hugged and kissed me.

At Xiao K's request, we opened a second bottle, but she only drank one glass before becoming a little sluggish. Xiao Q, however, seemed perfectly fine, her face only slightly flushed. We each poured ourselves a full glass and then plugged the remaining half-bottle with the cork.

After finishing the pizza, Xiao K was also feeling unwell; she didn't say much and went to bed, lying still. I told Xiao Q, "You go take a shower and rest, I'll take care of the tidying up." Actually, after drinking half a bottle of red wine, I had already started eyeing Xiao Q, especially when Xiao K went into the room to sleep. I thought, "I can feast my eyes again."

But Xiao Q said, "You go first, I need to look for something in the suitcase, I don't even know where I stuffed my change of clothes." I quickly tidied up the small table and took my pajamas into the bathroom, thinking, "Whether you shower early or late, I'm going to watch you anyway."

While showering, I imagined what Xiao Q's "down there" would look like. I guessed she was quite voluptuous; she'd been living with her boyfriend for a year, she must be a mature woman by now. Seeing her wearing frameless glasses, that was just to appear demure. These days, girls all wear contact lenses. If she let loose, she'd be incredibly sexy. Little JJ was now actively participating in the fantasy, full of life.

After drying myself, I bent down to pick up the socks I'd taken off before showering, intending to wash them with soap.

As I bent down, I suddenly noticed two motionless dark figures peeking through the crack in the door, just a centimeter away. I paused, then carefully crouched down on the damp floor, peering through the crack. Two knee-sized things… Could it be…?

I stood up, placed one hand on the light switch, and rested my head against the keyhole. I turned the bathroom light off for a second and immediately turned it back on. In that brief, dark second, I quickly glanced at the keyhole and then looked away.

Under the bright lights of the living room, I could clearly see an eye through the keyhole! The feeling of

a 22-

year-old man discovering he's being spied on while naked is completely different from a woman's; he even feels a sense of accomplishment. I was extremely happy; I never imagined someone would look at my figure. I couldn't let that little q's hard work lying there go to waste; I know how hard it is to lie there, haha.

Actually, if you want to see, just tell me. You can look however you want, why bother? I thought to myself happily. I decided to put on a good show.

First, I put on my socks in the sink. I was originally planning to use the soap next to it, but now I deliberately bent down and grabbed some laundry detergent from under the sink. The bending process was very slow, so that I positioned my hairy butt crack and testicles exactly against the keyhole. I even spread my legs slightly to make it easier for her to see. Sigh, it's actually more convenient to squat down to get the laundry detergent. I really went to great lengths!

After sticking my butt out for half a minute, I also took the opportunity to look down between my legs and into the crack of the door. Sure enough, the shadow was still there; I shouldn't perform like an idiot by myself when there's no audience. But Xiao Q is even more clueless than me; she didn't even think to turn off the living room light. She's

also bolder than me; Xiao K is sleeping in the inner room, and she might suddenly wake up at any time to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. This woman, when she gets horny, is much more ruthless than a man. I straightened up and washed the socks; then, repeating the same trick, I bent down again to grab laundry detergent and washed the underwear too, hanging them all on the clothes rack next to me. Foreplay complete, now for the exciting part. I turned around and, with my penis less than fifteen centimeters directly in front of the keyhole, started masturbating. In no time, my penis, which had shrunk by half while washing clothes, stood erect. As I masturbated, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, my eyes were fixed on the two faint shadows beneath the crack in the door, imagining her kneeling outside, her hands braced against the doorframe. That feeling was definitely more exciting than peeking at her.

To satisfy the audience's needs, I would occasionally change angles, showing my penis to Xiaoq from the front and side, and sometimes I would lift my penis up and touch my testicles, basically just cupping them in my hands for her to see; I would also touch my penis with my hands, alternating between the front and back, probably making her feel aroused and her juices flowing. But with Xiao K there, there was definitely no way I could have sex with her, and if I did, her attitude towards me would definitely be different. If Xiao K found out, she would be very unhappy and would definitely tell my girlfriend. It wasn't worth offending Xiao K and my girlfriend for a woman like this.

My penis, stimulated by both my hand and that eye, became very hard. I added some water and shampoo to the glans, creating a lather, and quickly started splashing around on it. I could almost hear Xiao q's panting outside the door. The urge to ejaculate came quickly, and my glans was swollen and red like an egg. Just then, a sudden rush of blood to my head, and another wicked idea struck me. I immediately stopped.

I turned around, cleaned my penis in the sink, put on my t-shirt, then went back to the door lock. I held my penis less than 5 centimeters from the keyhole, alternately stroking it with both hands. At the same time, I quietly pulled up my sweatpants to my knees.

Then, while vigorously masturbating with one hand, I lightly placed the other on the doorknob, leaning my shoulder against the door.

Suddenly, I lifted the doorknob and, with a lot of force but not too quickly, pushed the bathroom door open. I felt the door momentarily blocked by something, but I continued to push it open forcefully. Then, I quickly pulled my pants up from my knees and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Haha. It was Xiao q, sitting awkwardly on the floor after being slammed in the door. Her glasses were so badly knocked off that only one side was hanging from her ear. She was propping herself up with one hand, rubbing her forehead, which must have hurt terribly, with the other. Her skirt was pulled up to her thighs, and her face was even redder than when she was drinking. She managed to say one word, "I…," but couldn't finish. Her nervousness made me feel a surge of joy. Pretending not to know anything, I quickly knelt down and gently helped her put her glasses back on her nose. I gently removed her hand from her forehead, rubbed it a couple of times, and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were at the door."

She was so embarrassed she couldn't say a word, not even daring to look up. Taking one of her hands and placing the other on her slender waist, I helped her up. I let go of her hand, looked at her forehead, and said, "Thank goodness, you're not disfigured, otherwise I'd be in big trouble." Hearing this, she gave an awkward laugh and said, "It's okay, how could I let you take responsibility? Little K would kill me!"

The atmosphere improved a bit. Seeing the pajamas I'd found on her suitcase, I said, "I'm going online, you go take a shower." She obediently said "Okay" and went to get her clothes. I went straight into the inner room and sat down at the computer.

Little K hadn't changed her clothes and was already asleep. I figured it wasn't convenient to help her change, so I put her legs, which were draped over the edge of the bed, on top of her and covered her with a blanket. Seeing Little Q go into the bathroom, I kissed Little K's rosy, fluffy face. She didn't react at all and was sleeping soundly.

After browsing the internet for a while and writing two emails, I heard the water in the bathroom stop. I immediately grabbed a bottle of Centrum vitamins from the side and placed it near the foot of Xiao K's bed. I closed the bedroom door and came out. Now it was my turn to watch Xiao Q.

Of course, I didn't forget to turn off the living room light. Even when doing something bad, you have to use your brain. After all, a bad guy isn't the same as a fool.

I opened the shower curtain. Having what happened earlier, I was more careful this time. I didn't press my face against the door to look at the keyhole; instead, I stepped back about a meter and sat on the small, worn sofa, looking at the keyhole and the gap in the door from a distance.

First, I saw Xiao Q's shadow walking to the door through the crack. Then, I saw part of her body swaying in the keyhole, like her buttocks or hips. A few seconds later, an eye suddenly appeared in the keyhole. Haha, I guessed right! Xiao Q is really funny. It's pitch black outside, what can you see? I looked into her eyes from a meter away in the shadows, and a smile crept across my face. I wondered if she was a little disappointed that she hadn't noticed me peeking at her.

When she realized there was nothing suspicious, she straightened up and started fiddling around inside. I quietly climbed from the sofa to the bathroom door, carefully pressed my eye against it, and listened to the sounds coming from inside. If Xiao Q woke up, Jin Shi Er Kang would call the police.

After seeing Xiao Q through the keyhole, I did feel a little regretful that I hadn't taken advantage of the situation.

Xiao Q wasn't particularly attractive, and even looked a bit older than her age, but she had a really good figure. She was about the same height as Xiao K, but didn't have much excess fat; her waist was slim, and her buttocks were slightly upturned. Her pubic hair was fairly standard-length, not very large, but very thick and dark. The hair was also quite long; after a shower, a small, shiny black patch of pubic hair stood upright, which looked quite interesting from the side. Because her pubic hair was more concentrated and she was relatively thin, her thighs weren't as tightly closed as Xiao K's, so from the front, you could see a fairly clear pubic area. Xiao Q's labia weren't too big or too small, just peeking out slightly, and the color was a bit dark. I don't know if it's because her skin isn't very fair or because she's had sex too much. Ever since I saw W's lower body, I know that pubic color doesn't have much to do with how much sex you have; there's not much comparison between people. But for the same person, the more sex they have, the darker the color becomes, that's a fact.

Her buttocks were pretty good, not very fair, but still quite firm, slightly upturned, which was rather alluring. I guess it would be really enjoyable to fuck her while looking at her buttocks from behind. Xiao Q didn't seem to be wearing a face mask, so she didn't spend much time in front of the mirror, but she brushed her teeth for quite a while. Although she didn't bend over too much while brushing her teeth, just bringing her head closer to the sink, that small bend still exposed quite a bit of her labia majora. The color was much darker than the surrounding skin, especially the labia minora, which weren't very exposed, but were quite dark. There were some hairs on her labia majora, not many, but a bit long, extending down to a little below her anus. Unfortunately, she didn't bend over enough, so I could only tell that her anus was also quite dark, but I couldn't see it clearly. Later, she also used the laundry detergent from under the sink to wash clothes, but not in such an exaggerated way as I did; she squatted down to get it, so I didn't get a chance to observe her dark anus again.

To avoid a repeat of Xiao Q's embarrassing situation, I stopped and went back to the inner room as soon as I saw her start getting dressed. When Xiao Q came into the room, I was at the table, seriously surfing the internet.

After her shower, she looked a bit fairer, and her wet, curly hair looked quite nice. As soon as she entered the room, I stood up, intending to let her go to sleep.

She said, "No rush, no rush, you go online, I don't want to sleep right now." I said, "Even if you don't want to sleep, you can lie down and rest for a while. You're jet-lagged, you'll get sleepy soon."

As I walked out of the small room, I complimented her, saying, "You look quite pretty after your shower." She snorted and said, "You're not pretty if you don't shower, are you?"

Pretty, pretty, but you're even prettier with wet hair. I teased her and went to the living room.

The next morning, I was sprawled out on the sofa with one leg on the floor when I was woken by the sound of Xiao K showering. When I opened my eyes, I saw Xiao Q boiling water on the kitchen stove at my feet. She was staring at my sweatpants, which were bulging with morning erection, while waiting for the water to boil. My sudden appearance startled her, and she immediately looked away to find a cup.

After buying tickets at the train station in the afternoon and loading their luggage onto the train, which still had a while before departure, the two of them came down to the platform to say goodbye. Little K hugged me tightly and said, "You must come to see me and Sister Q!" I said, "I definitely will, and you will definitely come to Paris often." Then I said to Little Q, "You're welcome to come see me next time too." I emphasized the word "see" a little. Little Q's face seemed to turn slightly red, as if answering me with a hidden meaning, "If I come to see you again, will you really welcome me?"

I smiled and said, "Of course, just like when you came to see me yesterday." Little Q really blushed and subconsciously touched her forehead.

Little K chimed in, "My brother will definitely welcome you! He's been saying how beautiful you are this morning!" I gritted my teeth inwardly. What nonsense was that brat spouting? When did I ever say she was pretty? Of course, I didn't say it aloud. But Little K was overjoyed to see me staring at her so intently. Finally, there was someone

else

at home; I could sleep in my own little bed and go to school on time again. To make a good impression on the teachers, I asked one or two questions after almost every class. French teachers usually left as soon as class ended, but I still actively seized every opportunity to ask. Fortunately, the teachers were very enthusiastic and patiently answered my questions in the hallway or office. I didn't really understand their explanations, but I still nodded frequently to show I understood. Sigh, it was all to become a familiar face so I could have something to say during exams.

My normal life didn't last long. One day, while in class, an unfamiliar number called my phone. It looked familiar, but I didn't have that person in my contacts. I didn't answer. After class, as I walked towards the subway station, I dialed the number back. It was a girl's voice. "It's me, L." "

Which L?" I didn't recognize the voice. I searched my memory but couldn't recall. "

The one who sold you a lot of things, like microwaves and stuff. Don't you remember?" "

Yes, yes, I remember now." "How are you? Going to the beach every day, huh?" I was surprised she would call me. It's been almost a month since I bought her things, and I haven't contacted her since. "

No, I'm still in Paris." Her voice sounded very dejected. I couldn't even remember what she looked like anymore, but I remembered her as a very sunny and lively person. "Quickly, show your concern! What's wrong? Are you reluctant to leave Paris?"

It turns out that after learning of her acceptance into the university, she packed her things in Paris while contacting friends there to help her find an apartment. She was also trying to find someone to fill in her current place in Paris. She waited for almost a month without receiving a confirmation letter from the university. When she finally called, they said they had already sent it, registration was closed, and classes had been in session for over ten days. Because she didn't register, her spot was taken by someone else. With no other option, she went through a lot of trouble to transfer back to her original school in Paris. She only finished the registration process there yesterday

. "If I can't go, I'll just stay in Paris and try again next year," she said. I offered her a simple word of comfort, still not understanding why she called me.

"I'm living where I used to live." She continued, sounding a bit hesitant, "So, so..."

I wondered if she wanted me to become her brother, taking care of her and comforting her? I didn't have time for that. I waited for her to continue.

She cautiously asked, "So, could you return everything I sold you?"

My legs went weak!

It wasn't about the money; just thinking about how many times she climbed up and down the seven flights of stairs without an elevator—it was terrifying! And moving it back, up and up again! I firmly refused her request, saying that the things were already used and had become part of my pile of belongings; they were practically worn and dirty.

She wasn't angry at all, saying, "I knew you'd refuse. I gave you so many things, and you're so stingy. I still consider you my brother." "Fine, pretend I'm blind." She hung up!

I panicked immediately; she'd never said that to me before. I yelled into the phone, "Don't hang up! Don't hang up!" Then I explained to her that it was just too much trouble to move everything. She said that she had bought everything herself over two years, carrying it all up to the seventh floor by herself. Buying new things would be expensive, and she couldn't carry so much stuff all at once.

Hearing her plight, my heart softened, and I told her, "Fine, I've already used everything so much, I won't return it. You can buy new ones yourself, and I'll pay a third of the price, okay?" She thought for a moment and said a fifth would be fine. I thought, "You're quite polite," and said, "It's settled then."

She added, "But you'll have to help me move them."

I naturally refused, but she said, "If you help me move them, you can come over and eat at my place for half a month." I did the math: there's a direct subway line from her house to mine, so it won't take long without transfers, and eating there for half a month will save money, plus I won't have to buy or cook for myself. A good deal!

We agreed to go this weekend.

The main items were the microwave, table, chairs, lamp, and printer. Any other small items I didn't need, I could bring from my house and return to her. It wasn't much, but I ran around from 10 am to 8 pm on Saturday, making three trips to her house. Luckily, the microwave was delivered by the store.

We were both exhausted from moving on Saturday night, so I didn't let her cook at home; we agreed she'd start eating over on Monday night. Before leaving, I said I'd spent 150 euros today. I pulled out 40 euros and said, "Keep the change." She was too tired to move and lay on the bed, saying, "Who wants your money? I just wanted you to come shopping with me. Your labor cost is more than that. Consider it me exploiting your labor." I thought, "Yeah, I'm not anyone to her. Labor can be paid for too," and went home with a clear conscience.

I went to class every day and went straight to L's house for dinner. Life was really comfortable; at most, I'd have to wash the dishes. It's just that L had more classes than me and got home a little later, so I often went home first to chat with Xiao K online before going to L's house for dinner. The main issue was that L started by saying she treated me like a brother, which put a lot of pressure on me. If I even had a slightly impure thought, it felt wrong. Also, she asked me right away if I had a girlfriend, and I didn't lie to her. I talked to her a lot about my relationship with my girlfriend, and she listened with great interest, thinking we were a perfect couple. She even said she would definitely keep an eye on me and prevent me from messing around in France.

I also took the opportunity to ask her if I really looked like one of her brothers. She didn't want to say at first, so I said, "I've already told you my whole story, and you still treat me like this." Only then did she tell me a long story. She does have a cousin, from her aunt's side, who doesn't look like me, but his voice, tone, and intonation are very similar. Her aunt and uncle went to the countryside in a small city in Jiangsu Province and stayed there for more than ten years. When they returned to Beijing, they brought her cousin, who was only in middle school at the time. Because of L's father's help, her aunt and uncle got jobs at the same large state-owned enterprise where L's father worked, and they worked there until they both retired a few years ago. They both worked for the same company and lived in company housing. Their families lived in different units of the same building, and were very close, like one big family. L's family, being better off, had always taken good care of her cousin's family. The two families' children played together for ten years. L, in particular, followed her cousin around with a group of boys for many years, which shaped her current personality. When L entered junior high school, her feelings for her cousin changed. She was still very dependent on him, but a touch of teenage budding romance had begun to appear. Fortunately, her cousin hadn't caught on yet and still treated his short-haired cousin like a younger brother. When L entered high school and her cousin went to university, they met again during a holiday. L suddenly realized that her feelings for her cousin were no longer those of cousins. Her cousin, who seemed to have grown up in university, also gave L a very different look.

Just as a tragedy seemed to be unfolding, L's mother noticed something was wrong. After talking to her cousin, she asked a friend working in France to help L with her travel arrangements. At this point, L solemnly told me that she and her cousin had never even held hands; adults were too sensitive. I asked what was happening now, and she said her cousin was getting married next year. Nothing had happened between them before; when she returned to China last year, they were still getting along well, and he was even getting along very well with his future sister-in-law.

Because I went to university in Jiangsu, and my dad is also from Jiangsu, I speak Mandarin with a slight accent, just like her cousin. So she thought I looked a lot like her cousin, except her cousin is very handsome. The implication was that I wasn't handsome at all.

On another note, after Xiao K instilled this sense of responsibility as an older brother in me, I immediately transferred it to L, so even today, despite many opportunities, I've never been to L's house. Of course, that's a story for later.

After

eating at L's house for half a month, we didn't stop. We got into the habit of sending each other a text message after class every day to see who got home first. L's school is in the center of Paris, which is close to home, but she has a lot of classes and frequent quizzes. The quiz grades are included in the final exam, so I often went to her house to buy groceries and we ate together. I only occasionally cooked a couple of dishes. If I didn't go to her house for dinner, I would just make noodles at home.

Living alone is really boring, especially for someone as talkative as me. My first year in France was in the north, where there weren't many Chinese people, so I made over 40 long-distance calls (each costing 15 euros), which is almost the price of a round-trip plane ticket. Of course, most of those calls were to my girlfriend. Now I call much less; often, she'll say online that I haven't called for three or five days, and then I rush downstairs to find a phone booth to call her. Unlike now, where everyone has a landline with unlimited calls, back then, having internet access was a luxury.

After Xiao K went to Lyon, we chatted online almost every day. A week later, Xiao Q added me to her MSN, but we didn't have much to talk about online, so after a few greetings, I blocked her.

Xiao K told me that Xiao Q was very popular there; not only were all the Chinese boys nice to her, but she also had no shortage of foreign suitors. However, her school was just a very ordinary business school, far inferior to the nearby Lyon Business School, so it seemed there weren't many genuine French students there. Less than two weeks later, one evening, Xiao K suddenly told me that Xiao Q had found a boyfriend in the same grade but a different class. He was French, but had immigrated from Algeria when he was young, and was quite good-looking. I said, "Most Arabs aren't good people. Don't worry about her, just be careful and don't have much contact with him."

Xiao K said I was racist. I said, "Just you wait and see. To be honest, it's not that there aren't good Arabs, but in France, most Arabs are bad guys. Don't think that going to a business school makes you civilized. It's like starting to eat canned food instead of bones; you're still a dog." I hope this didn't offend any of my Chinese brothers who have deep feelings for the Arab people.

Less than a week later, Xiao K said that Xiao Q had brought her boyfriend home and didn't leave that night.

I asked her if she heard any noise from next door, and she said yes. It seems Xiao Q is carrying out the task her mother assigned her back home. I told Xiao K to lock her room door at night, and to lock it before showering and using the toilet. Xiao K said she knew, but she couldn't sleep at night because of the noise, and it didn't quiet down until after 1 a.m.

We also have to admit that Xiao A, who eats beef and mutton, has a rather strong... well, you know. But that's exactly what Xiao Q wants; I'm afraid she's still not satisfied. I don't know why I'm so sour, a bit like a sour grapes.

Less than a week after Xiao K started complaining about the noise from next door, Xiao K's latest news was that Xiao Q and that guy broke up, I don't know why. Breakups like this aren't a big deal, but the only consequence is that no Chinese guys are pursuing Xiao q anymore. The reason is simple: few Chinese guys have the courage to date a girl who's had a foreign boyfriend.

Time passed quickly and uneventfully. Fortunately, I had L to talk to every day, so life didn't feel too hard. However, I noticed my bank account was dwindling; in just over a year, I'd already spent nearly 20,000 euros. I suddenly felt a little anxious. Seeing other friends who weren't studying so hard working or earning money, I started paying attention.

I didn't have time to work. Chinese restaurants were too tiring and didn't pay much, and French restaurants took too much time.

Finally, I decided to start looking for an internship early so I could start at the beginning of the next semester and still have some pay. So, on the one hand, I sent out resumes everywhere, and on the other hand, I focused on preparing for my school courses, trying to pass all my courses in the first semester so I wouldn't have to wait until the next.

At that time, there weren't many people looking for internships, and of course, there weren't many companies looking for interns either. I mainly sent my resume to French companies that had business ties with China, and occasionally to some small Chinese companies that did foreign trade. After waiting for about two weeks, I started receiving interview invitations. I quickly went to a Zara store and bought a suit for a little over 200 euros. It was all wool, not much more expensive than in China. I was still hesitant about buying it, thinking I should just wear something more formal than casual. But then I saw a young Chinese couple in the store picking out suits, and I vaguely heard them talking about internships and job interviews, which made me decide to buy it. And indeed, I haven't worn it more than a few times. I'll take it back to China and wear it there.

Going for job interviews is actually quite confidence-dampening. I went to two companies, and at the company entrance, I even saw a few other Chinese people there for interviews. Talking to them, I realized they were either from business schools, the Sorbonne, or prestigious universities. Their French was so good I almost mistook them for French. If it weren't for the requirement of an internship at my school, I really wouldn't have gone. The French interviewers were generally very warm and polite, and they rarely asked any professional questions; it was mostly just chatting. After the interviews with these two companies, I quickly received emails from them, thanking me for my interest in their companies, but saying that based on my characteristics, I was not a good fit for their positions, and hoping that I could find a company that was truly suitable for me, etc.

I had seven or eight interviews in total, and I realized that the difference between talent and scum is just one word, even though they were all wearing suits. A month after my first interview, I finally received an interview invitation from a Chinese-owned trading company. This was the only interview invitation I received from a Chinese company. It was relevant to my major, and they spoke Chinese, so I thought the gap between me and those students from prestigious universities would be smaller. When I arrived at the company's entrance near the Paris Opera, I saw more than a dozen Chinese students, not a single foreigner. The receptionist was a fairly attractive Chinese girl who answered phone calls while arranging for everyone to go in for interviews, patiently answering everyone's questions. The interview order was alphabetical by last name, and I was second to last. I wasn't in a hurry; I just listened to everyone asking her questions and gradually learned about the company. They need to hire three people: two men to handle business with China, and a woman to replace her, whose internship ends in two months. Her position requires fluency in French and English, but the other two positions don't have such high language requirements.

The boss is from Zhejiang, a chubby guy who imports goods from the Jiangsu and Zhejiang area to France for sale. He's been in France for 20 years and is doing quite well. Actually, these kinds of small businesses don't really have a hiring system; it all depends on the boss's mood. Plus, he'd already interviewed over ten people and seemed a bit tired. He just went over the company information he'd already given over a dozen times and asked me to introduce myself and say something casual.

He didn't ask any questions, so how could I just say anything? I have no work experience in China. If I'm going to brag, at least give me something to say! Helpless, I started rambling. I told him I'd been in contact with many large companies with my dad since I was little, that I'd organized various activities at university, collaborated with big companies, and liaised with government departments. I also bragged about some recent Sino-French trade information I'd gathered online. Suddenly, he asked if my father was also in business. I said no, he worked in some department of the provincial government. Upon hearing this, he asked again, "Do you know so-and-so?" I said I thought I'd heard of him, maybe a section chief. He said he'd been promoted to deputy director in some department two years ago, a friend of his. I said I didn't know, but that department was very lucrative.

At this point, I thought getting the job should be no problem, and sure enough, a few days later, the receptionist called to inform me. They even complimented me a bit, saying that many people with domestic work experience didn't want me. I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth and just humbly admitted it. Not finding an internship through my own abilities

at 25

is a huge regret for me, but on one hand, I'm too lazy to look again, and on the other hand, I really lack confidence in my own abilities. So I booked this internship with the company and waited three months. They were supposed to hire someone next month, as the previous intern's contract expired this month, but I wouldn't be available for several months. So I asked the girl who was handling my internship to discuss it with the boss. Fortunately, the previous intern wanted to earn more money and was willing to work a few more months, which made things much easier for me.

Continuing to eat at L's house was quite comfortable; I didn't have to cook and rarely had to wash dishes. However, my food expenses actually increased. Even L said I bought too much food and wasted it. I also noticed I seemed to be gaining weight, mainly because the fat around my stomach was becoming more noticeable. Later, we discussed it, and we agreed that if she got home before me, I wouldn't go over. If I got home early, I would buy the groceries, but she would have to pay half; before, I had refused to accept her payment. As a result, I went to L's house much less often. Besides making money online, I started having time to go out and look for business opportunities to plan for the future.

One day, I was chatting with an older woman in front of the LV store on the Champs-élysées. She initially wanted me to buy her a few LV bags, promising me a 40 euro reward. At first, I thought she was lying, but after talking for a while, I realized it was actually true. LV stores are deliberately mysterious, only allowing customers to buy two bags with their passports; you can't buy more if you have the money. So, there are groups of Chinese people who hire others to buy LV bags, claiming they'll resell them in Japan. I don't know if they're really going to Japan or if it's just for money laundering. This really made me realize that even in France, with its sound legal system, there are still many opportunities to make money, whether legitimate or not, and I still need to investigate further.

I was chatting with the older woman when I suddenly saw a familiar-looking girl walking towards me. She was also looking at me, seemingly trying to remember, when she immediately called out my name. I then remembered she was the receptionist from the Chinese trading company. I immediately thanked her for helping me coordinate my internship schedule. She said it was nothing, no need to thank her.

I quickly left the older woman and walked with her towards the Arc de Triomphe. I asked her if she was there to shop. She said she was just doing a quick look around, mainly to see a movie. Hearing this, I immediately said I'd treat her to a movie as a thank you; I'd never seen a movie in France before. She said we could watch together, since I was alone anyway, but I didn't need her to pay; I had a movie pass, 18 euros a month, unlimited movies.

Several cinemas in France offer annual movie passes for 18 euros a month, allowing unlimited viewing of movies, big and small. It's much more cost-effective than in China, where movies are already inexpensive, less than 10 euros a month. With only 18 euros a month, you can see two or three movies and it's enough to make a profit. I asked her how to get one, and she said the cinema ahead of me had one. Luckily, I had my passport and checks in my bag, so she helped me get one in ten minutes. We immediately went in and watched a French film together. I only understood less than 30%, and didn't even understand the relationships between the characters, which was quite frustrating.

She comforted me, saying that it's always difficult to understand at first, especially the spoken French, and suggested I watch English films with French subtitles first, as that would help me learn spoken French faster.

I told her that watching movies alone wasn't very interesting, and that she could invite me to join her next time she went to the movies if it was convenient. She readily agreed and gave me her phone number and MSN. That's when I learned her name was N.

She watched movies once or twice a week, mostly arthouse films, but also some American blockbusters. From then on, I basically stopped downloading movies online, except for porn, of course. I didn't dare tell L that I often went to the movies with N, and I only met L once or twice a week anymore, but we chatted online every day.

N was rather dignified-looking, not exceptionally beautiful, but very pleasant to look at. She also had long hair with a slight reddish tint. I thought it was dyed, but it was natural for her. When she was little, relatives called her "Little Yellow Hair" because her hair was a little yellow then, but it had turned a little reddish as she grew up, and it was definitely prettier than if it were dyed. Her internship ended this month, and she continued her studies, also pursuing a master's degree.

I don't know if N genuinely has no one to go to the movies with, or if she's interested in me, but she basically invites me to every movie she goes to. I try not to refuse her invitations; in fact, sometimes when I can't go, she'll reschedule and go with me. She's never asked me too many personal questions, like whether I have a girlfriend, and I don't ask her any either. But I can sense the subtle shift in our relationship. Sometimes in the dark of the movie theater, my hand brushes against hers, which is also resting on the armrest, and she doesn't pull away, just leaves it there naturally. I haven't dared to grab hers; what if she already considers me a friend? If I grab hers, it'll be all over.

French cinemas are quite open-minded; they don't prohibit erotic or violent films, only specifically labeling them as unsuitable for ages 16 or 12 and under. She would often ask me to watch movies with her. Actually, I'm a bit of a scaredy-cat and don't really like watching violent or scary films, but she wasn't too opposed to them. As long as it was recommended online as good, she would watch it regardless of the style. Even pornographic films—we'd watch them together, with men and women fully exposed, and sex scenes. When those scenes of flesh and blood rolling around on the bed on screen, I would often steal glances at her with my penis erect, and I always found her staring intently, not flinching at all, looking completely natural. I felt ashamed of my own wicked thoughts.

One Saturday, after watching a two-hour movie, it was almost 7 pm. After we came out, she asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner, and I said noodles. She said, "Come to my place, I'll make you roujiamo (Chinese hamburger)." I knew she went to university in Xi'an, but I didn't know she could make roujiamo. How could I refuse such an invitation?

I knew she shared an apartment with another girl, but when I got there, I found out they shared a one-bedroom apartment without a living room, the two of them sharing one room. I asked her why she lived so crampedly, saying it was so inconvenient.

She said that with the rent split between the two of them, it would only cost less than 200 euros per person. She and the other girl had known each other since back in China, so they were like sisters, and sharing a room wasn't inconvenient at all.

Her roommate was out working and hadn't returned yet, so she was making roujiamo (Chinese meat sandwiches) in the kitchen. A pot of meat was already cooking on the stove, pieces of meat, some lean and some fatty, soaking in a dark brown broth. My stomach was already rumbling. Under the four-burner stove was an oven. After taking a few round cakes she bought from the supermarket from the refrigerator and putting them in the oven, she started cutting meat on the cutting board. I offered to cut it, but she said she made it often and could cut it very quickly. I watched as she cut the larger pieces of meat into smaller chunks, then sliced them, and finally chopped them into small mince using two cleavers. The kitchen was small; it was difficult for two people to turn around. I slowly moved behind her, one hand on the sink, and whispered in her ear, the clatter of the cleavers making a loud thud.

I could already smell the fragrance of her hair, and my breath ruffled the hair behind her ear. Seeing that she didn't pull away, I glanced at the cleavers whistling through the air in her hands, swallowed hard, and moved one foot towards the kitchen doorway, tentatively touching her earlobe with the tip of my nose. The clattering of the two kitchen knives slowed down; the alarm had actually been deactivated. I boldly, but without taking my eyes off the knives, took her ear into my mouth, tracing the tip of my tongue along her earlobe before slowly moving to the back of her ear and kissing her gently. At this moment, the two knives stopped. I saw that her eyes were closed and her head was slightly turned to the side.

I knew I had succeeded. I gently wrapped my arms around her waist from behind—her waist was so soft. I placed my lips on the back of her neck, leaving a little dampness at the base of her hair.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key opening the front door. Before I could hear it, she didn't say anything, nor did she push me away; the two kitchen knives continued clattering, which startled me.

After having dinner with her roommate, the three of us left early, noticing that her roommate didn't seem to like me. I didn't know what N was thinking. Although she didn't show any signs of dislike today, she might calm down and become more rational afterward. After all, we haven't had any deep conversations; our usual chats are limited to friendship.

For four days in a row, she didn't ask me to go to the movies, and I didn't dare call her. I just kept looking at her MSN avatar, waiting for it to light up so I could talk to her, but it never did. I felt I couldn't take the initiative anymore. After all, I have a girlfriend, and N doesn't seem like the kind of girl who'd just play around. I couldn't let her suffer too much.

I refrained from contacting N and waited for two more days until the weekend arrived. Instead of N's call, I received a call from Xiao Q, which surprised me.

She first asked how I was doing, and I said the same as always, nothing changed. She then asked if I had invited any girls over, and I said I'm not that kind of person; even guys don't come to my house, so why would I invite girls? As soon as I said that, she immediately said she wanted to come to Paris to see me and asked if I was welcome. Damn it, how could that be? This woman is having a great time in Lyon! Something must be going on. I said I was welcome, but I couldn't just spend so much money to see me. If she really missed me, I'd personally deliver myself to Lyon to see her, and I'd also visit Xiao K while I was there.

Then she said she had received an internship interview invitation from a company in Paris for next Monday and asked if I could stay at her place Sunday night and visit her. I knew this woman wouldn't come to see me so easily, so I asked her if Xiao K knew. She said she hadn't told Xiao K yet and wanted to ask me first. I said she was welcome, but she shouldn't tell Xiao K. She said no problem, she'd let me know after buying the tickets, see you on Sunday.

If Xiao K found out, he'd be very angry, and the consequences would be serious. Although I didn't really want this woman who'd slept with foreigners staying at my house, I couldn't find a good excuse to turn her away. I'd already given her...

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