Other people's red apricot

I used to steal stockings. "Steal" is a bit of an understatement; it's more like secretly picking them up. I went to an art college and lived on campus. It was a six-story building; the bottom three floors were for boys, and the top three were for girls—the beautiful girls from the performing arts department.

First of all, let me clarify that I wasn't a creepy, insecure stocking fetishist. At least back then (two years ago), I was a handsome guy, around 1.81 meters tall, with a muscular physique that's rare for Asians, and I even had a fair number of girls pursuing me. But I was also a very introverted person, and my secret was known only to myself—I loved stockings.

In my second year, one of my roommates and his girlfriend moved out and invited us to lunch. So, one Sunday noon, we found his place, near what is now the Carrefour on Daqiao South Road.

I happened to be the last one upstairs, and when I got to the third floor, I found a clothes rack completely covered in—stockings. My heart was instantly thrown into turmoil. After dinner, I made an excuse to go downstairs to check, and just then, a door opened, and a beautiful young woman walked out. She had a slender waist, delicate legs, and was about 1.65 meters tall. We exchanged a glance, and I really liked her. I didn't dare imagine what would happen in the future.

After that, I often went to my friend's place, often saw her, and often exchanged smiles. She was a genuine nurse (I'm writing in English so some people won't misunderstand and recognize her), cheerful, kind-hearted, a true angel. Her husband was a businessman, five years older than her, short and unattractive (about 1.67 meters tall), but he truly loved her. She was three years older than me. She was 26 at the time, but really pretty, not just beautiful.

One week later, one evening, I went to my friend's place to play games. My friend went out to buy a measuring tape and didn't return for a long time. I was really into the game when someone knocked on the door. I opened it, and there was the beautiful young woman. Holding a bunch of grapes, she said, "Here, have some." I had just said thank you when she said, "Want to come downstairs and sit for a while?"

So direct. It was late at night, and we chatted for a long time on her balcony. I wanted a cigarette, and she took out a pack of Yuxi cigarettes, the kind her husband smokes. While I smoked, she went to the balcony and looked at the night view alone. She was waiting for me. I stubbed out the cigarette and gently hugged her from behind. Unexpectedly, she turned around immediately and hugged me back, kissing passionately and caressing each other. The words I dared not say, she said: "Can we...?"

I stopped pretending, picked her up and carried her into the room, gently placing her on the bed. It was early autumn, and we only had five pieces of clothing in total, which we quickly stripped off. Like in many erotic novels, I have a penis the size and height of my body. Novels are just exaggeration, but mine is real.

Anyway, I'm not a virgin, so I boldly lowered my head to her crotch and caressed her pink labia and vagina with my tongue. She suddenly cried out exaggeratedly, especially exaggerated and seductive at three in the morning. Salty fluid began to flow from her vagina, which I carefully tasted, lovingly teasing every part of her vagina and anus. Her wantonness was truly intoxicating. I looked up, wiped my mouth, and said, "Jing, you sound so beautiful."

She blushed and turned her face away. I felt she even resembled a shy wife, my wife. I grasped my penis, wet from her small mouth, and slowly parted her flower-like labia, inserting it. My first impression was: it's so small!

She kept crying out in pain, but clung tightly, her slender feet in flesh-colored stockings straddling my body. I kissed her feet, my penis already hard as if it would break, but I couldn't bear to, so I gently rubbed the head of my penis against her until she got used to it. Fortunately, her saliva lubricated it, and after five or six minutes, I finally inserted it all the way in—not completely, because her vagina was short.

By this time, we were both covered in sweat. I thrust into her hard, admiring her ecstatic expression and inhaling her fragrance. Her two small breasts were so tender that one couldn't bear to touch them. No wonder her husband doted on her so much!

I asked her what she would do when her husband came back? She said she was away on a business trip and had called today to say she'd gone back to her parents' house, asking him to come back tomorrow. Hearing this, I was incredibly aroused. I grabbed her two soft, boneless feet, thrusting my penis deep into her vagina (I don't know if that's the uterus) with each stroke, admiring the sight of my thick penis moving in and out of her pink vagina. She was very wet, thick white discharge clinging to my penis as I entered and exited her.

Suddenly, she raised her head, her eyes filled with seductive allure, and called out, "Husband!!" I was aroused and moved, holding her even tighter, fucking her, saying, "Jing, will you marry me after I graduate?" Without saying anything else, we kissed tightly.

The pleasure in my penis reached its peak, and I thrust wildly, then tried to pull out and ejaculate on her stomach, but her small hands gripped my waist tightly, screaming loudly. I ejaculated all inside her.

After a while of caressing, things calmed down. I held her, gently stroking her breasts, feeling a little uneasy, wondering if the seed I had just planted would sprout. She slowly fell asleep in my arms like a kitten. There were many photos of the couple on the cabinet, and many used tissues scattered on the floor. Before going to sleep, I checked the time; I had played with her for an hour and forty minutes, equivalent to her husband's twenty times.

99% of what I've written above is true, because I don't believe anything is 100% certain. If anyone is interested, I'll continue with the following experience: my relationship with a prostitute, which lasted from March to July of this year, including her continued work as a prostitute while living with me. The following is a brief experience about my stocking fetish: During my

junior year of college, I found more than three times the number of stockings of all lengths in the girls' dormitory, all belonging to the performing arts department. Around that time, the beautiful girls upstairs graduated; some became models, some became prostitutes. Before graduation, they didn't have time to wash them and threw them all away. I would quietly go upstairs in the middle of the night, light a candle, and slowly collect them. They had all sorts of shapes and sizes. I picked them up, admiring them as I went. After collecting four or five pairs, I couldn't resist anymore and masturbated on the spot, ruining several pairs of stockings (I like to smell them while masturbating; I don't like them on my penis). Later, I filled seven Hualian shopping bags and took a taxi home. Unfortunately, fearing my family would find out, I threw them away in four or five separate trips.

********************************************************************** I'll write about it and share with everyone next time I have the chance. I don't dare write too much, afraid of being recognized. Besides, I'm not as obsessed as I used to be; I just look at them online now.

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Other people's red apricot

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