Touching the Third Sister on the Car

From the very beginning, I've had a particular fondness for slightly plump women; I can't take my eyes off their rounded thighs. When a relative sent me a photo of my third sister, I was already completely captivated: a delicate face, large eyes, long eyelashes—she looked a lot like the actress Wan Qian. She was slightly plump, about 160cm tall, and in the photo, she was wearing a business suit and short skirt, standing with her legs crossed. Her rounded, snow-white thighs were impossible to look away from, not to mention the glimpse of flesh between her legs beneath the skirt.

Having dated many women, I can generally tell how promiscuous a woman is based on her appearance, photos, and conversation style. Intuitively, I knew my third sister was the type who was sexually frustrated. Chatting, going out for meals, watching movies—the same routine, the same sequence. As we met more often and became more familiar, and given my decent qualities, I knew she had accepted me. Gradually, I became bolder, placing her thighs on my lap, touching them, kissing her cheeks, putting my arm around her waist—the increasingly intimate gestures. In my third sister's own words, she had previously been unlucky in love. But I don't know exactly how many people she's met, and I don't want to ask. After all, my third sister is a middle school teacher, her social circle isn't messy, and as long as she's healthy, I don't care about her past.

Once, after dinner, I took her home. After getting out of the car, I hugged her, and then I immediately put my tongue in her mouth. At that moment, she went limp, completely stunned, and started kissing me back with

her tongue. A few seconds later, I pulled away, and she stood there, bewildered, completely dazed. That's when I knew my third sister was definitely a slut, because repressed women especially love kissing. Obviously, a few seconds of kissing had aroused her. I said, "How about we get in the car for a bit?" She nodded demurely, so I put her luggage back in the trunk. At her front door, under the streetlights, with people coming and going, we, blinded by lust, got into the back seat of the car together. I hugged her and started kissing her passionately, until she begged for mercy, saying, "Are you going to eat me up?" But since it was our first time, my third sister was quite reserved. Aside from kissing, she wouldn't let me touch her breasts. Her breasts were quite large; she was definitely on the voluptuous side, and they felt wonderful to hold, their fleshy texture perfectly suited to my taste. I didn't force it, only kissing her lips and neck. That was the end of our first intimate encounter.

Afterwards, I remained indifferent, just like before. Looking back now, I think I should have continued longer, since my third sister is my type, and I could have enjoyed it more.

[The End]

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