My Memories

My boyfriend and I often went to the movie theater.

I remember the first time we went to the movies, I went to see Zhang Yimou's "Hero," very naively.

My boyfriend bought the tickets and led me in, only to find out he took me to the last row of boxes.

From the moment the movie started, I didn't pay any attention to it; it was all my boyfriend's doing. First, he kissed me, then hugged me, and then he started touching me inappropriately. At first, I pushed him away, trying to resist and watch the movie in peace, but after he groped my breasts for a while, I completely gave in (it's clear I'm very sensitive to my breasts; foreplay is useless, as long as he touches my nipples, he'll do whatever he wants with me afterwards).

I originally wanted to sit on his penis, but since we didn't have a condom and the box was too small, we had to use our hands and mouths instead. Of course, he wanted me to use my mouth; he begged me for ages before I finally agreed.

The movie had just started, and people kept walking past our box. Although the theater was dark, I felt a lack of privacy whenever someone passed by, especially my boyfriend, who was very sensitive to this. So, every time a shadow passed by, our libido would drop by an average of 10%. Of course, I was okay, but it was mainly because my boyfriend was sensitive. If he stopped, I would naturally lose interest, so our libido dropped by about 15% for him and 5% for me, averaging out to 10%.

Later, after the movie had been going on for a while, the whole theater quieted down, and no one was moving around anymore. We then settled into our box and started making our way around. I quickly came due to a clitoral orgasm, but knowing we were in a public place, I suppressed it and didn't make a sound. This suppression made me feel unsatisfied, and I wanted a second time. Since my boyfriend hadn't orgasmed yet, we got back to it.

My boyfriend's pants were undone and pulled down below his buttocks, and his erect penis was sticking out, as if wanting to see Zhang Yimou's movie. But I didn't let him see it. I held it tightly with my right hand and started stroking it up and down. My pants were unzipped, but not pulled down. My boyfriend's right hand reached in and caressed my genitals. I deliberately shifted my position so his fingers could just touch my clitoris. My bra was loose, and his left hand reached around from behind me, kneading one of my breasts. My free hand touched my other breast.

I discovered that I was more likely to orgasm when both nipples were stimulated simultaneously, especially from asymmetrical stimulation at different frequencies—one from my own hand and one from my boyfriend's. Because I could control my own rhythm but couldn't predict his, the two stimulations were sometimes synchronized and sometimes staggered, a kind of chase. This random effect greatly aroused my sexual desire; it was so damn good.

We were awkwardly but passionately making our way around in the private room, unaware of how many other couples, like us, were there under the guise of watching a movie, just flirting. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared in front of our booth, wielding a blinding flashlight and sweeping around. Damn it, trying to catch someone cheating? My boyfriend abruptly stopped what he was doing, straightened up slightly, and pulled his jacket over himself.

The man mumbled our booth number, saying, "No, it's still ahead," and then went to the next booth. He probably finished using the restroom and, finding it too dark to see where he was, used his flashlight to find a seat.

My boyfriend sighed in relief, muttered a small curse to himself, "Who is that?", and grinned at me. Then we continued our unfinished business until we both reached climax. My boyfriend ejaculated incredibly hard. It was so dark in the booth that I couldn't actually see exactly where he ejaculated, but I could feel it—a continuous, gushing stream. The booth started to reek of semen. If the next moviegoer came into our booth, they'd never guess it was "Hero"; they'd probably think it was porn.

After the movie ended, my boyfriend went to the restroom to clean up the "hidden relics" again. When he came out, he said, "It's so damn cool!" I laughed and comforted him, "It's okay, it'll be dry; even if I'm wet, it's still cool!" Then we left the theater feeling refreshed. A classmate asked if "Hero" was good. I stammered, "Um...it was pretty good, it looked like a scenic film..." Actually, I did

n't see anything; it seemed like all the beautiful scenery accompanied our heightened sexual desire. My boyfriend is a rather conservative person, a bit indecisive, or perhaps a bit timid, and cautious about everything. Although he started engaging in what could be called "fringe sexual behavior" shortly after we met, he's been hesitant to go all the way. His reason is that it's best to save these for our wedding day, and once we do, he'll have to take responsibility.

Hmm, a very appealing reason. So, what he really means is: I don't want to take responsibility now; it's hard to say if we'll even get to marriage. Very reasonable and realistic. Regardless, I was quite moved by it for a while. I wasn't insistent on having sex with him or not. I had already lost my virginity, so I wasn't worried about not being able to explain my broken hymen to my next partner

if we broke up someday, because I only had one explanation to everyone—that I broke my hymen myself. Because I liked him, I was of course willing to have sex with him if he wanted to (this was different from that one-night stand, which I absolutely couldn't do, even though I had already lost my virginity); but if he didn't want to, I didn't need to rush him to have sex with me. Sometimes, one shouldn't be too cheap. So we always skirted the edge when it came to sex.

Until one time, we booked a hotel room (which was much more relaxed than a movie theater room). We were so intimate we couldn't control ourselves. He said, "I really want to go all the way in." I said, "Okay, let's try it today."

He was still cautious. "Let's take a shower first, together, as a prelude." So we started splashing around in the water. Shower gel is a wonderful thing; the foam subtly concealed my body, making it more mysterious, and the smooth texture made the caresses even more pleasurable. Anyway, my boyfriend really liked it. He put a lot of shower gel on his palms and then touched my whole body. Then I rubbed my smooth, round breasts against his body and genitals repeatedly, and we even did some breast play, but we had to stop because of the awkward position in the bathtub. I then used the shower gel to caress him with my hands. When my warm hands grasped his erect penis, he let out an "Oh," which sounded both stimulating and pleasurable (for both of us). It seems I've found the perfect way to arouse him.

I added more shower gel to my hands and helped him masturbate. He initially felt great, closing his eyes to enjoy it for a while. Then, wiping the tears from his eyes, he looked at me seriously and said, "It's not warm enough."

I realized then that men crave both warmth and lubrication for stimulation—you see, the vagina during sexual arousal is exactly that combination. So, I warmed my hands with hot water first, then rubbed shower gel in my palms before applying it to his penis.

My boyfriend described this pleasure as "This kind of pleasure is only found in heaven; I'd die for it," demonstrating the power of the shower gel. But, but!!! Please, everyone, don't blindly imitate this immediately. Don't blame me if something goes wrong; I haven't finished speaking yet. My boyfriend enjoyed it, and even ejaculated once. The semen clung to the water like flocculent material. Then, he remembered the joke about the Tsinghua University men's bathhouse getting clogged. After telling the joke, he rinsed the shower gel and remaining semen off his penis, but almost cried. Why? His penis was chafed raw, and the hot water finally made it hurt.

Experts warn: shower gel is not like lubricant; use it with extreme caution.

Therefore, my boyfriend's penis had to be taken off the job. While it's rare for a man and a woman to chat under the covers, my boyfriend and I proved with blood and tears that even rare events can happen. Thus, our first serious attempt was shattered; my boyfriend was filled with regret, not only because our plan for the night was canceled, but also because he would be living a life of celibacy for almost a week.

Later, I had to move to another city for my graduation project, so I had to part ways with my boyfriend for a while. During that time, we often talked on the phone late into the night. He had already started working and was no longer sharing a dorm room with several classmates like he did in college. The company where I was working on my graduation project also gave me good benefits; I even got a single room, which was rather simple but provided enough privacy. Naturally, things progressed from initial phone greetings to flirting, and eventually to phone sex.

As for my current ability to describe sexual details, well, I guess it probably started with those phone sex experiences. Rome wasn't built in a day, right?

During phone sex, we were usually lying on the bed, sometimes sitting. We'd chatter back and forth, the conversation deepening, the voices fading, and then we'd both be busy with our own things, the conversation gradually fading until one of us would say, "Oh, I'm here," and the other would quicken their pace, trying not to fall too far behind (we were both quite ambitious, haha). After that, we'd relax and start laughing and talking loudly about other things.

At first, we had phone sex almost every day, but later my boyfriend said he was busy with work, so it only happened every few days. As for me, regardless of whether he called or not, I would masturbate almost every night. Gradually, I found that my sensitivity wasn't as high as when I first discovered clitoral orgasms. Sometimes, when I was tired or sleepy, I would simply give up and not wait until I reached orgasm. After all, the feeling of orgasm is just that—it won't kill me if I miss one or two. Besides, I was afraid that excessive masturbation would lead to frigidity, which would be a loss.

My boyfriend and I had a secret code: we would ask, "How was it? Did you win?" Of course, we weren't asking if we won at mahjong, but rather if we "won by self-draw." We were completely honest with each other, and neither of us hid anything from the other.

After my graduation project ended, I returned to my boyfriend's place, which I had been looking forward to for so long. What happened next is obvious, otherwise, it would be a disservice to the old saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

By then, we had already met each other's parents and in-laws. My mother was more open-minded than I had imagined, saying, "If you really can't resist, don't forget to use a condom," which seemed to be her tacit approval of her son-in-law.

In that sense, we were really good kids; nothing substantial had actually happened, and we had managed to hold back.

But absence makes the heart grow fonder, and can just anyone be a "ninja"? He prepared condoms, ready to get serious with me. He was a virgin, I believed him. Whether I was a virgin or not, I didn't say. Our first time wasn't as smooth as I had imagined. I thought that since I wasn't a virgin anymore, penetration would be relatively easy, but in fact, I still felt pain. Every time he used force, I was reminded of the feeling when I lost my virginity; however, I wasn't surprised, because I had heard that it's normal for a virgin to feel pain during the first few sexual encounters after losing her virginity. Losing one's virginity is just opening a small hole, not giving birth to a child.

Anyway, that day I was determined to see the revolution through to the end. I cooperated well, displaying a fearless spirit, enduring the pain... finally... he entered... One feeling: the tampon was thicker than my finger, and his penis was thicker than the tampon.

When he first entered, I felt pain, but once inside, the pain seemed less noticeable, just a feeling of fullness, I don't know if it was numbness or what. Anyway, he thrust forcefully, and I swayed along with him. As for enjoyment, it was definitely not pleasurable. I secretly sympathized with the virgins on their wedding night; apparently, this joyous occasion wasn't so pleasant. It would have been better to prepare beforehand and have a thorough, unadulterated experience with my lover that day.

He ejaculated. Then a thought suddenly flashed through my mind—guess how he'll react when he sees I'm not a virgin? Before I could think any further, he pulled out his "treasure" and cried out, "Blood!"

I sat up in confusion, quite surprised to see there was indeed blood. His expression was also one of surprise, then he stared blankly, leaning his head against the wall, looking at me without saying a word. I didn't know what to say, constantly muttering to myself, "Why?" (So Cai Ming learned that from me).

I crawled over and hugged him. He seemed to wake up and hugged me back. I whispered, "You're mine now." He nodded, nuzzled my head, and didn't say anything.

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