Winter Passion with a Chinese Beauty

I often read the wonderful stories written by my friends, which often inspires me to write my own. Speaking of workplace stories, the only time I've had sex in the office was with my friend Lucy, which happened many years ago. Looking back now, I really miss my love, Lucy.
Ten years ago, I came to the United States, and the world around me felt very different from China. The faces were different, the skin colors were diverse, and the personalities were even more varied. Let me tell you about the American and Mexican women I met in that year.
My first stop in the US was the University of Chicago. There weren't many Chinese students there, about 180 students, visiting scholars, and some exchange students from other states. I went to a research institute that did statistical analysis. The boss was a big shot in the field, and there were more than a dozen people working tirelessly on analytical modeling under him. When I first arrived, the boss wasn't too demanding, so I had time to participate in activities organized by church or student associations, where I met some Americans and Mexicans, and of course, many Chinese as well.
During my first winter in Chicago, around the time of the second snowfall, an American friend invited me to test drive an SUV after get off work. He'd mentioned before that he liked all sorts of racing cars and high-end vehicles; in America, it's generally believed that if you like something, you'll naturally have a deep understanding of it. I helped him test drive it, and afterwards, he decided to order the car. This guy was genuine; one night he invited me to a bar, saying he wanted to thank me in a Chinese way. It seemed like a sincere gesture. That evening, I got ready and went to the bar with him. To be honest, I felt a bit awkward and didn't know what to order. Luckily, the bartender was a girl who looked somewhat Asian, and the artistic lights on the bar counter were quite unique, making her look like an angel. At first, the girl didn't pay much attention to us. Perhaps she overheard our conversation, because she asked in slightly accented Chinese, "Where in China are you from?" I looked up to confirm it was her asking me, and replied in Chinese, "Beijing. Where are you from?" "My parents are from Beijing, but I've never been back. You know, it was very difficult for my parents to come." At this point, my friend asked me what I was saying to the girl, and I repeated it to him. I don't know how he managed, but after a while, he started chatting with her. He said her name was Lucy, she was also at the University of Chicago studying insurance management, and he even got her phone number. Honestly, he was very efficient. Before leaving, I exchanged phone numbers with the girl at the restroom door, hoping to visit her home sometime. Her parents were very welcoming to friends from China.
My first Thanksgiving in the US was at Lucy's house, with her parents and another family. We chatted for a while and quickly became familiar. Lucy and her parents were very outgoing. The other family seemed to be religious. Our conversation covered things like changes in Beijing, current events, and academic progress. After the party, I took a look around Lucy's room. It was a little awkward to visit a girl's room on our first meeting, but Lucy took the initiative. The room was cozy, elegant, and even a little fairytale-like—much better than any girl's room I'd ever seen back home, and far more unbearable than my own cramped apartment. Who would have thought that this room would be the place where Lucy and I first met?
The snow in Chicago is truly beautiful. I remember one weekday afternoon, Lucy called and asked me to go out to see the snow with her. I quickly finished my work and called Lucy, who was ready to leave at any moment. This was my first time accompanying a girl born and raised in America. Although I was very confident in my own qualities, I still felt a little too confident in dating an American girl. There wasn't much snow left on the highway, but everyone was still driving very slowly. What usually takes an hour took us about two and a half hours. It seemed we'd have to stay overnight in Spring Hill Village. That day, Lucy and I hit it off immediately. Lucy was very interested in my high school and college life, from secretly learning to smoke in high school, to eavesdropping on wedding nights with the mature male classmates, to attending the wedding of a classmate who dropped out of school early, to skating with girls on the ice, and even when we were alone in the restaurant, she was still full of enthusiasm. Back in the room, I remembered there were a few cans of beer in the car, so we went to get them together. The room had just two beds, a TV, and a bathroom—very simply furnished. After resting for a while, Lucy said she was going to take a shower. After she came out, I also took a shower. To be honest, if I were alone, I definitely wouldn't have taken a shower; it's hard to change the habit of rarely showering in China. Later, the conversation turned to topics girls often talk about in dorms. I still know very little about the private conversations of American girls. Lucy said that some of her high school classmates were lesbians, and everyone was used to it, but they didn't behave normally in public. They often had intimate contact when the female classmates stayed at the same dorm. She also said that a girl liked her, but she couldn't accept it, and it ended up being just a classmate relationship. Lucy also told me some American-style dirty jokes. I only understood a few of them; most were probably related to my cultural background, and I didn't find them funny. The one that impressed me the most was about a young nun who was taking a senior nun's urine to the hospital for testing. She tripped and fell halfway there, spilling all the urine. Afraid of being scolded by the senior nun, she collected some of her own urine on the roadside and took it to the hospital. When the test results came back, the senior nun looked at them, her face somewhat grim, and muttered to herself, "These days, even carrots aren't safe."
Later, Lucy also told me a story about her college classmate. A close friend of hers went to a house where the adults weren't home at a graduation party with two male classmates. They probably drank a lot, because later the two male classmates asked Lucy to help them take the girl home. They saw her with disheveled hair and clothes, and the girl's parents were also suspicious. The next day, they went to Lucy's house to ask what had happened. Since they couldn't get any information from the girl, Lucy told them the truth. The girl's parents called the police, but even the police couldn't get any information from the girl about the assault, so they couldn't handle the matter legally. Later, when they talked privately, the girl told Lucy about what happened. She said the two boys had given her a lot of alcohol, and she vaguely felt them undress her and have sex with her twice, but one of them was a boy she liked, so she didn't want to talk about it. Sometimes you really have to admire the independent thinking of American girls.
It was still snowing outside in the middle of the night. Looking out the window, I could see pretty snowflakes drifting by every now and then, like the paper flowers that old people used to cut out for the window frames before the Chinese New Year. Sometimes, I couldn't help but reminisce about the past. I don't know how long I chatted with Lucy, until I could hear her snoring softly. I covered Lucy with the blanket and carefully observed this very individualistic and unguarded American girl under the lamplight. Her delicate skin, her black wavy hair, and her body, neither too fat nor too thin, under the blanket. At that moment, I wondered if this girl could be my girlfriend or my life partner. Actually, the two didn't seem to conflict. As long as there was a space in my heart for Lucy to live, what did it matter if there were other girls to accompany me? The feeling in my lower body was sometimes hard and sometimes not strong enough to force myself to be rough with Lucy. I stood there by the bed until my legs ached, still half-kneeling, carefully observing this seemingly simple girl. Suddenly, Lucy reached out from under the blanket, grabbed my hand, and asked if I was cold. She paused, then said it would be warmer if I let her come up and we cuddled. I hesitated for a moment, but ultimately pulled back the blanket and lay down next to Lucy. The girl's body against me felt so warm. I reached through the unbuttoned part of her pajamas and touched Lucy's breasts, gently stroking the nipples with my fingers. After a while, they were no longer soft; they were firm and pointing upwards. Lucy asked if I wanted her to have sex. I replied, "Lucy, you're so beautiful. You're the most beautiful and intelligent girl I know." Some might criticize that, saying it's too cheesy. But it was truly from the heart, without any ulterior motives. I was just over 23 then, still young! Lucy said this was her first time, and her parents often told her to cherish a girl's first time. At that moment, my first thought was whether Lucy was testing me. I spoke with utmost sincerity, promising Lucy a precious memory. "This environment is too unpleasant. I want to make our first time happen in your room. I want to hold you tight today." "But you're already hard. Can you hold on?" Lucy asked, her bright eyes filled with anticipation for my answer. "Going to university in the countryside, pursuing a PhD, coming to America from Beijing—no matter how difficult these things are, I persevered and succeeded. You are my beautiful angel, and I can persevere too." From that moment, seeing the look in Lucy's eyes, this girl was already my love. In the darkness of the hotel room, my hand remained on Lucy's breasts. Although I was already unbearably swollen, even in the darkness, I could feel Lucy's care, "Are you okay?" Lucy said that from the moment we got under the blanket that night, she could feel my hardness and stamina. Perhaps it was that profound test that honed the ability to last over 30 minutes under normal conditions, an ability that many women find unforgettable. I can never imagine what it feels like for a friend who always says he can only last one or two minutes.
After our date at the hotel, Lucy and I started talking on the phone and emailing more often. Her parents were also very impressed with me, treating me like family. I learned a lot more about Lucy's family situation. About a week before Christmas, Lucy said a close friend of her parents had invited her whole family to Florada for the holidays. Her parents were going, and she wanted to hear my opinion on whether she should go or not. I thought, "What a precious moment! Lucy and I in a completely undisturbed moment, with Santa Claus as our witness!" Just as I was trying to figure out how to express my feelings, Lucy grinned mischievously, "You're thinking about making love, aren't you? I knew you'd be holding back this day. Okay, I'll talk to my parents, you'll be spending Christmas with me. If you don't behave well, see how I devour you!" This perfect combination of timing, location, and people is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The day before Christmas, when Lucy and I took her parents to the airport, they repeatedly told us to be careful. I thought, "They're all adults, how can they not know about electricity and what to be careful about when entering and leaving the house?" On the way home, Lucy told me about her parents' subtle hints. It seems women are indeed intuitive. After returning home, Lucy and I tidied up the house. I made an excuse that I had some things to do at the office and needed to go back to report to my boss. I said I might not finish until noon the next day. If there was anything going on at home that evening, they could call me. When I left Lucy's house, I was actually preparing a gift for her. I had been planning this for a long time, and it was basically all done. I just needed to go to the supermarket to buy some wrapping paper. On Christmas Eve, everyone left work before dark. When I got back to Lucy's house, there was already a five-dish meal with soup, plus a bottle of domestically produced red wine that her father's friend had given me. Before dinner, Lucy said that her parents had left a special gift on her desk in her room. But when she told me, I was still shocked: a very expensive video camera at the time, a box of condoms, and a bottle of emergency contraception. During dinner, I was still figuring out how to make the most of the camera; the anticipation was almost there, and I was starting to feel nervous. Lucy was talking about calling her parents' friend, and I used that as an excuse to go to the car to get Lucy's gift. Carrying the $500 gift, I imagined Lucy's overjoyed surprise as she rushed into my arms.
When I returned to the living room, Lucy had already cleared the table and set the fireplace ablaze. The lighting in the house was neither too bright nor too dim. Lucy was swirling a pale yellow liquor in her glass. I placed the gift box under the Christmas tree and looked back at Lucy, illuminated by the firelight. She was watching a wonderful program on TV; it was a joyous Christmas Eve for us. Back then, TV programs were mostly about Christmas and romance—movies, television, and entertainment. We watched a movie about two lovers who had a falling out but reconciled before Christmas. The female lead passionately threw herself into the male lead's arms in the street, and they shared a deep kiss. When I turned from the TV screen to Lucy, she seemed to turn her gaze to me with the same passion. Slowly, Lucy and I kissed passionately, the alcohol burning within us, the heat radiating from the stove igniting our desire. Every time I had sex with a girlfriend, it was a simple act of intercourse where neither of us knew how to have sex. Thinking about it now makes me want to relive that memory. Our kisses drew us closer, and my hand found itself on Lucy's breasts. Lucy seemed unable to resist reaching for my penis, but she remained conscious, insisting on showering first. Lucy wanted me to shower with her. In the large tub, the water rippled between our intimate bodies. Lucy's limbs were very well-proportioned; I could clearly see her firm, slightly dark nipples, her flat stomach, her sculpted figure, and her neatly trimmed pubic hair. Later, Lucy sat opposite me, letting her genitals rest against my penis, exposing her entire body to me. My penis was erect, and Lucy would occasionally stroke it. Next, I lathered Lucy with bath soap, washing her from her breasts to her soft vulva with unimaginable care. Lucy lathered my penis and entire body, and we both emerged fully cleansed. I took the gift box from the living room to Lucy's bedroom. Her flushed face after the bath looked even more delicate with excitement after opening the box. Just as I had imagined, Lucy threw herself into my arms, and we kissed deeply. Lucy's robe had fallen off without me noticing, and mine had also fallen off during Lucy's masturbation. When I kissed down to her nipples, they were already hard and felt good to touch. Lucy's hands pressed my head tightly, pressing against her pink and white breasts and nipples, licking her slightly fragrant nipples. I put my hand into Lucy's vagina and felt something slippery flowing inside. I didn't know when Lucy had grabbed my penis, and she was stroking it back and forth, mimicking sexual movements.
"Come in, Jack, I want your penis."
"I only want your penis, you have to come in gently."
"I'll help you in, okay, let's stop here for now."
By this time, Lucy was covered in sweat, and I felt like I was running a 400-meter race.
I tried to move it a few times, like the feeling of pulling out of something sucking my gigi.
Every now and then I'd move it a few times, feeling it getting increasingly lubricated.
"Move a little more, okay? I want you to insert the gigi deeper."
"Oh, oh, oh..."
Lucy had already begun to thrust her vagina toward my penis, seeking the stimulation of that collision.
"Your penis is so hard, warmer and harder than a sausage, push harder, all the way in."
"Fuck my pussy, I want you to fuck my pussy."
"It feels so good, you're so good, fuck my pussy, I want Jack to fuck my pussy."
During intercourse, Lucy wanted me to take the penis out so she could suck it with her mouth. Since they had just been washed, they should be clean. Watching the penis that had just come out of my pussy go into my mouth for sex was the most pleasurable thing in the world. After sucking for more than ten minutes, Lucy said that her pussy was uncomfortable and wanted me to use the penis to fuck her pussy. This time, Lucy said she had seen people fucking her pussy from behind on TV and asked if I could do it, so I tried. Inserting into the pussy from behind was still easy, but the disadvantage of not being able to see the sensation of sex was gone. After inserting into the pussy and thrusting dozens of times, Lucy's moans began to become intense.
“I want Jack to fuck my BB, mmm, mmm…”
“Your Gigi is fucking me so hard I feel like a bitch, you've fucked my BB so badly, I want to fuck your Gigi,” Lucy was already somewhat incoherent. As my sweat dripped onto Lucy’s body, Lucy gratefully said, “Jack, you’ve worked so hard.” When she felt Gigi getting itchy and tried to pull away, Lucy used her hands behind her back to press me down, “Fuck my BB, shoot inside, my BB wants your Gigi’s semen, that’s your milk, my BB wants to drink your milk.” So she used strong thrusting to fuck Lucy’s BB, and without any hesitation, she ejaculated into Lucy’s BB. Both of them were exhausted and fell asleep on the bed. Afterwards, Lucy said not to worry, she had taken care of it, I don’t know how she took care of it.
In the following year, Lucy would still come to my place to stay overnight, but I felt that there were some things that weren’t quite in harmony between us, so we just got along like ordinary friends.

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Winter Passion with a Chinese Beauty

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