A romantic encounter at a beauty salon

A beauty salon opened near my house a long time ago, and I went there occasionally. Because it was a legitimate establishment, I didn't

go often . I don't like getting a regular massage or anything like that, and

also because there weren't many pretty girls there. Plus, since the owner gave the girls a quota for selling membership cards, every time I went, the girls would try to persuade me to buy one,

which I hated! But since the salon was on my way home from work, I would peek

inside every day, hoping to spot a pretty girl and have a romantic encounter, to get all excited.

In the late summer of 2002, as the weather gradually cooled, my desires

grew . Finally, the person I wanted appeared at that salon. For several days in a row, I noticed

a tall woman there. She always wore black leggings, her long, slender

legs were beautifully shaped, and her buttocks were round and slightly upturned—definitely top-tier. So I decided to

go in and meet this girl sometime.

In September, a very famous German orchestra came to our city. I've been

a bit of . That night, after the performance, I kept replaying the music in my mind on the way home. Yes, early autumn,

the beginning of romance. I've loved autumn since I was little; I wonder if you guys feel the same way. On this early autumn

weekend, how many desires are stirring, how much passion is surging? On the bus home, I thought,

shouldn't something happen today to make up for coming from the concert? Shouldn't

something to make up for this romantic weekend night? What? Really no goal? I felt a little lost.

Hey! That's it! Perfect timing, if I don't go to that beauty salon today, when will I? Having decided on my goal, I

stopped worrying, got off one stop early, and headed straight for that beauty salon. As soon as I entered, my heart sank—

that girl wasn't there! It's really strange. I usually pass by but don't have time to go in,

and I always see her, but today, she's not here. I thought, "No way, I can't be that unlucky." I quickly asked, "Where's the girl who

always wears black leggings? Where did she go?" Oh right, I forgot to mention earlier,

most of the girls in this shop wear matching sportswear, except for that one girl, who's different, so she should be easy to spot.

The girls initially looked confused, as if they were dumbfounded, but then, as if remembering something,

they called one out. I looked, and oh my god, it was her! Black leggings were true, but underneath were

two elephant legs! And that wasn't all—that fleshy face, heavy makeup, she was obviously a prostitute! Damn, so this shop

has its tricks up its sleeve! The proprietress kept winking at me, "Young man, this girl is great, her massage

is different from the others, go try her." I got angry just looking at the proprietress. I thought, "Such a

romantic night, am I supposed to ruin my body, soul, and money on this idiot?" No way! Get out of here!

There's another one, very tall, I've seen her before, where is she? Oh, it's her, Little G. She's giving a massage to a customer

. You'll have to wait a bit. Okay, I'll wait. The proprietress seemed a little unfamiliar with me, which was

good , and she told the waitress to pour tea. While I was drinking, the person I was waiting for finally came out! Right, right, it was her. Still

those black leggings, still those beautiful legs. But up close, she didn't seem as tall as she appeared from afar.

I guessed she was under 170cm, but later it was confirmed she was 168cm. Afterwards, I realized that the shop was full of

skinny girls, and her 168cm height made her look tall.

The girl seemed a little puzzled when she saw me. Hearing I wanted a massage, she didn't say much and just

went into the back room with me. After I lay down, she asked me why I was there for a massage. Did we know each other? No, I don't

know you. I told her the truth: I saw you a few days ago, but I haven't had time. Today I had some free time, so

I came in, but you were busy, so I waited for you. Only then could I get a good look at her face. She said she was ugly, but

to me, she wasn't ugly at all. Her eyes weren't big, they were squinty, her cheekbones were a bit high, and her lips were very sexy,

slightly pursed, exuding femininity. To be honest, she wasn't pretty, but she was very sexy, a very mature woman. In

my experience with picking up girls, this kind of woman is either extremely difficult to get or very easy to get, and she's

passionate , capable of melting a man's heart. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she started chatting while giving me a massage. Let me digress a bit here

. Although this shop had that ugly prostitute I just saw, it was still mainly a legitimate massage parlor, so I

usually wasn't very forward with the girls when I got a massage here. I'd usually just touch her thighs for a bit of fun, and

rarely even touch her breasts. But with her, I really couldn't control myself, because her figure was exceptionally sexy.

While talking to her, I would occasionally probe her with my hands. I'm quite experienced at this, every move I make

is practiced, but her responses seem even more adept than mine. Often, the moment my hand moves, she knows

what I'm going to do, which path I'm going to take, and her hand is already blocking my way

. Damn, it's like a battle between martial arts masters! What am I supposed to do? Fortunately, in the end, my hand can rest on her thigh

. Okay, fine, I'll just indulge myself. Aren't this woman's legs beautiful? I'll let you touch them for free today, isn't that enough

? And you know what?

Thinking this way, I felt quite satisfied, and my desire subsided slightly, allowing me

to talk to her properly. However, there's one thing: although I've probed her like this, and she knows what I want, there's no sign of disgust in

her words . On the contrary, after chatting for about half an hour, she started to confide in me.

There's a chance!

It turned out she used to work for a shop in a supermarket near our city

, selling clothes. Recently, she and her boyfriend had been having problems and were facing a breakup. Because of her bad mood, she didn't want to stay in the city anymore and

quit her job, planning to go back to her hometown after the Spring Festival.

During our conversation, I complimented her on her figure several times. She seemed a little shy, but

she seemed to enjoy it. So, I gradually shifted the topic to her appearance. I told her she was sexy and very feminine. She

admitted it and even mentioned that once, one of her boyfriend's jerk friends tried to rape her while drunk, but

failed . I said, "Come on, leave him alone. Don't call him a jerk; look at me, such a

handsome and gentlemanly guy, and I'd try to rape you too." I was half-joking; the main thing was, this was a verbal test. Sure enough,

she blushed. Then, taking advantage of this ambiguous atmosphere, I pulled her hands inside my t-shirt and placed them on my chest.

The masseuse teased the client's nipples with her fingers—a standard move in modern massage, something

she had previously absolutely refused to do. Now, you might be wondering, did she agree when you pulled her hand in

? Well, her technique was unlike anything I'd ever experienced! Her two fingertips lightly

circled my nipples, occasionally teasing them, before moving on to my entire chest. And, you know, it's not

just a woman's breasts that are sensitive. I'm sure you all know that, haha. Her touch extended to

my shoulders and lower abdomen—it was real caressing, not the professional touch of a masseuse, but

incredibly pleasurable, before returning to my nipples. My penis instantly hardened.

I couldn't resist any longer; this time, I wasn't being a gentleman and grabbed one of her hands to press down on my penis. She

tried to pull her hand away, but I held it firmly, and she held on tightly. After a few rounds, I felt her grip

loosen . Then I let go, and she pressed down on my penis, her hand not moving. I could tell she didn't want to.

Sure enough , she pulled back. At the same time, her other hand withdrew from my chest. She said, "We don't have that here.

" At that moment, I felt a little awkward. To ease the tension, I asked if it was time. She said almost,

and I said, "Then I'll add an extra hour. Go get me some tea."

When she came back, I lit a cigarette, lay down on the massage bed, and asked her to massage my back. Her massage

technique was mediocre; it was obviously amateurish. I suddenly didn't know what to do next. To be honest,

I was confused about what I wanted tonight. To have sex with this girl? Was that even possible here? Did I have the time?

And for what purpose? Heh, honestly, sometimes when I go to a massage parlor, I really don't know what I'm trying to do.

I usually don't masturbate; I think it's bad for my health. Just to get to know her? That seems too...simple.

I don't know where I got the courage to ask that question directly: "

Do you and your boyfriend both have orgasms during sex?" After asking the question, I turned to look at her. I was confident she wouldn't call the police

(110) because of it, and I was confident she wouldn't kick me out of the massage parlor. As long as she

didn't do , I wasn't afraid. She seemed a little surprised, but it was clear she didn't

dislike me for the question at all. After hesitating for a moment, she answered, "Great, I had an orgasm."

Okay, now that the topic was on this, things would be easier. I continued talking to her while lying down.

It turned out she had a very high sex drive. She said she could shower for one or two hours, and

that she could reach orgasm simply by letting the water wash over her body from above without using her hands or any other tools. What else

could I say but "highly capable"? Because of her high sex drive, she had also

experienced . Apparently, she once had sex with a man on the hotel room floor for most of the night. They started at 9 pm and finished at 4

am, and she said she had more than ten orgasms. Damn, what kind of man was that? A donkey! That's like a whole workday. I

was secretly sweating a little, wondering if I should sleep with this woman. I couldn't handle this kind of work from 9 am to 4 pm;

what if she laughed at me? Lost in these thoughts, I got hard again. My buttocks felt intensely

sensitive to being touched. Without hesitation, I pulled her hand to my buttocks.

I don't remember what I was wearing that day, but I remember my pants clearly—tight-fitting jeans.

I like wearing those sometimes. When that woman's hand touched me, I immediately decided that regardless of whether she laughed

at me, I had to sleep with this woman! I can't describe the way she touched my buttocks. Let's just say, she made me

feel that she really liked me, really liked my body, really liked my buttocks. I could feel her

hand connected to her burning desire. I slightly raised my buttocks, and her hand immediately slid into my cleft,

then touched my penis. This area is crucial for both men and women, and she

touched it back and forth along this route. Her technique was unlike any other woman I had ever been with before.

It was filled with desire and deep affection. It was a kind of caressing between lovers, the

kind of caress from someone who loves you, and loves every part of your body. That kind of technique is something even the most skilled sex worker can't achieve.

In short , it was intoxicating.

Although I'm a seasoned veteran of over 30, having been with many women, I still couldn't resist the passion brought by this intoxicating

caress . I needed to release! I immediately turned around and placed her hand on my rock-hard penis.

Even through my pants, I could feel the magic she was casting on my penis—the magic of desire,

the magic of affection. From her initial rejection to this passionate caress, I knew I had her in the bag. I

pulled leaning her against my shoulders, caressing her back and thighs. Her body had no

boundaries for me.

Still not satisfied, I stood up, hugged her, and tried to kiss her, but she refused. I didn't want to force it;

that wouldn't be interesting. So I attacked her body, roaming over her body. Her breathing grew heavier,

and she readily reciprocated my caresses. I explored her beautiful body thoroughly, and I sensed her pent-up

desire was about to be ignited. Finally, I pinned her against the wall, my penis pressing against her round buttocks, my hands kneading her breasts

with abandon . She gripped my hands tightly, as if clinging to something vital and refusing to let go.

But when I reached for her abdomen to undo her pants, she seemed to snap out of her daze, desperately

pulling at my hands. After a long struggle, seeing no hope, I gave up. To be honest,

from our earlier conversation, I sensed she was a very stubborn girl; forcing myself on her might have led to

something serious .

My memory of what happened next is hazy. I only remember trying to give her an extra tip, which she refused.

Unfortunately, my memory is poor; that night ends abruptly. I've forgotten how I got home,

how I got her phone number—it shows how strong my first impression of her was.

My second encounter with her is rather vague; I remember it was during the National Day holiday that year. I had some free time, so

I went to their shop again. This time, because it was daytime and less crowded, she took me to the shop's

attic. As soon as we got upstairs, I hugged her and started touching her, but she gently resisted and pushed me away; clearly, she

wasn't quite aroused yet. I relaxed a bit and continued talking to her. I've mostly forgotten what we talked about that day, but

one thing she said I haven't forgotten: she meant that if I seriously pursued her, she would definitely fall for me. Actually, that...

She liked me that very day. I didn't know what to say when I heard that. I didn't like being

liked

a girl in this setting, and besides, I was infatuated with her, not in love with her; dating her was out of the question. Also, I felt that if I slept with her, wouldn't that be deceiving her feelings? Then I thought again, stop being so conceited

. She didn't say she wanted to date me, and besides, she'd had one-night stands before, so why

couldn't I? If it felt good, that's enough!

Anyway, we ended up being intimate. I carried her onto the massage bed and used

techniques . I won't go into details here; everyone knows those techniques—it's basically touching her breasts and genitals.

What I remember this time was when I took off her pants.

When I unzipped her pants, she resisted a little, but it was no use. She didn't have a belt, only buckles,

and besides, her resistance was just for show. I easily unzipped her tight pants, pulled them down a bit, and then

her underwear. She didn't resist at all. I pulled down her underwear, exposing her entire crotch

. Her pubic hair was the most impressive I'd ever seen on a woman! I'd heard that a person's libido is

related to their pubic hair; the more abundant and denser the pubic hair, the stronger the libido. I don't know if there's any scientific basis for this, but it seemed to apply

to . Her pubic hair wasn't distributed in an inverted triangle like most girls, but rather

in a diamond shape like a man's. That is, it started growing from the center about two inches below her navel

, spreading out—no, extending outwards—thick and long, all the way past her pubic area. Even on the sides of

her pubic it remained just as thick, almost reaching the perineum before stopping. My goodness! No wonder

she could go from 9 am to 4 am! I don't know if any of you gentlemen have ever seen anything like this, but I certainly haven't.

I leaned closer and smelled it; there was no odor. I put my mouth to her pubic hair, but dared not go any further

because she hadn't showered. When I tried to insert my fingers into her vagina, she refused, tightly gripping my

hand, lifting me up, and making me lie on top of her. I tried to take off my pants, but she insisted I not take off my underwear, so my

penis could only feel the gentle touch of her abdomen through my underwear.

My memory of this part is hazy; I don't want to write about things I don't remember—it's pointless. But I

do remember that later, after she straightened her clothes and sat down, she pulled my pants down completely and gently played with my

penis. The way she caressed it was incredibly delicate, making me feel wonderful! Until my

penis was throbbing, she asked if I wanted to ejaculate. She even half-jokingly said, "I don't want your tip."

I still refused.

I think my judgment was correct; she liked me. Of course, if she said she loved me, no one would

believe that. But at least, she had feelings for me. So, a one-night stand—as long as she didn't make me

stay up all night—wasn't a problem.

What happened later confirmed this idea. Soon, she was no longer seen in that shop. I called her

a few times and learned that she had broken up with her boyfriend and was very unhappy lately, even quitting her good job. She

's been staying somewhere a distance away from here, planning to go to another place to work.

I have a spare room near my house. I planned to bring her there to satisfy my desires.

It didn't take much trouble; I invited her there one day, and she readily agreed. However, once we were in my

room , I hugged her and frantically caressed and kissed her. She responded passionately. But then one sentence from her cooled things

down: it turned out she was on her period! What bad timing! Nevertheless, I still unbuttoned her shirt and pants

. She wasn't lying to me; she was on her period, and she had no reason to lie. Although I couldn't have sex with her, I still

needed to find a way to release my pent-up emotions. That day's intimacy was truly passionate! It was almost frantic caressing

and kissing; I've never had such passionate sex before. Besides her more passionate caresses, which

were noticeably more intense than when we were in the shop, her movements were incredibly skillful. I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater, and she could effortlessly

slip her hand under my sleeve, down to my shoulder, and then around to my nipple—a difficult

maneuver she performed with ease. I enjoyed her gentle assault on my nipples and placed her hand on my belt

buckle. She immediately understood and unbuckled my belt, and I promptly lay down on the bed. The bed, unused

and with only a bare board, was usually painful to sleep on, but I didn't feel it then. I lay down on the bed,

and she practically followed me—no, followed my still-upon-pants penis—onto the bed. She pulled down my

pants discovered a treasure. At first, she was a little reserved, only gently caressing me.

I asked her for a handjob, and she hesitated before agreeing. When her lips touched my penis, I was slightly

disappointed because it wasn't as good as I'd imagined. It was soft, gentle, and comfortable, but something seemed to be missing.

Even so, the pleasure my penis, which hadn't ejaculated in a long time, was experiencing was incredibly intense. I quickly

felt the urge to ejaculate. I wanted to take my penis away from her mouth for a moment; it

was too intense, I needed a rest. For some reason, I immediately thought of having her touch my

buttocks ; I really enjoy the feeling of my buttocks being stroked. I rolled over, waiting for her touch.

But then, she quickly parted my buttocks, and before I could even react, something warm,

moist, and soft was licking my glans! It was a tongue! Oh my god! What an incredible

feeling ! It was the first time a woman had licked me there! I'll never forget that feeling!

After that, to achieve the same ecstasy, I would ask for this every time I had sex with a woman.

Fortunately, she always agreed, but I don't know if it was because I did it so often that I lost the feeling, but while it was comfortable,

that ecstasy was gone. At that moment, I, being so weak, couldn't hold back anymore. You see,

my penis was pressed against the wooden board! At that moment, I had an incredibly strong urge to ejaculate, and

I couldn't hold back any longer. Haha, just one lick from the GM and I was about to ejaculate. Have any of you guys ever felt

this way ? I immediately rolled over again, and this time she very quickly took my penis into her mouth. I

ejaculated pleasurably in her mouth, my body convulsing. She teased my perineum with her fingers, seductively helping me achieve

a satisfying ejaculation. Afterwards, she went to the bathroom. When she came back, my penis was still hard.

I wonder if any of you guys have ever had this feeling: a good, satisfying session leaves you

feeling refreshed and energized, with clear vision and no signs of fatigue.

More importantly, it takes a long time for your penis to soften. If the session is unsatisfactory or rushed,

it goes soft quickly. That time was the former.

After , my penis was still hard. Then she took it into her mouth again, and I finally experienced

what a real oral sex felt like. It was like she had received a precious treasure, or like she was eating

an ice pop. In short, she made me feel like she really loved my penis. Her licking motions were large, but her teeth

never actually touched me. Unfortunately, I had already ejaculated, and it slowly softened.

After that, I kept thinking about having sex with her properly, but I never got the chance. Later,

she called me a few times to complain, but I got annoyed. All I felt for her was lust, a frenzied lust. And

she liked me. This game is getting boring. If she only sleeps with me if she's really dating me,

I'd rather not do it. But I still found out about her new massage parlor and went there.

I went to that parlor a few times, and one time in particular stood out because I finally penetrated her.

I remember it was after New Year's Day, and she seemed to like me less because she called less.

When I went there for a massage, she complained a few times that I was just "playing games" with her. But after saying that, she

continued to "play games" with me. It seems she understood my thoughts. That's a good thing.

That parlor had a back building. You went in from the front, through the lobby, and out the back door.

There was an open-air ladder outside that led to the second floor. You opened the door and went in. The whole place was full of massage rooms, open-plan,

meaning there were no partitions between the beds. Looking at the room, there wasn't much besides a few massage beds

, and I couldn't see any dark rooms. It seemed that, as she said, it was a legitimate establishment.

I don't know if it's because it's a legitimate shop, but even though it was always just the two of us when we went upstairs for a massage,

she absolutely refused to have sex with me. However, the burning desire coursing through her body allowed me to

easily lay her flat on another massage bed one time. I eagerly pulled down her pants, and

when her hairy pubic area was exposed, I unceremoniously inserted my fingers inside; it was already wet. As soon as I

entered, she couldn't control herself. Her initial resistance turned into receptiveness. I kissed her

nipples, my fingers moving in and out. Ten minutes, just ten minutes, and she climaxed. I've seen many women climax,

but this was truly the first time I'd ever seen one like this. It wasn't that she came quickly—other women come quickly too—but rather

that her reaction time was long and her movements were intense. Her legs twitched first, then clamped tightly together, so tightly

that my hands hurt. Then her legs shook violently, and this shaking spread throughout her body.

The contractions inside her vagina also became very rapid. Then her vaginal fluids flowed all over my hands. I didn't time it.

The women would only tense their buttocks and twitch a few times during orgasm, and that was it

. But hers lasted at least three times longer. I couldn't handle it.

After her orgasm, taking advantage of her dazed state, I turned her over, raised my penis, and

easily penetrated her from behind. The feeling in her vagina wasn't anything special, just hot. After an orgasm,

it wasn't particularly tight, but it wasn't loose either. A woman with rich sexual experience, as expected. I thrust

a few times. But I didn't ejaculate! I felt that was enough. I didn't use a condom; I was afraid of

causing trouble.

Afterwards, she seemed a little resentful and said to me, "Why didn't you do it earlier?" I said I didn't use a condom.

She said it was okay. I said I didn't want anything to happen to you. She was silent.

I've almost finished writing her passionate story here. After that, she quickly left our

city . That vaginal contact probably became the end of our friendship—for her, it was a swan song; for me, it was a swan song. Later,

I found out her new phone number, said hello, and asked if she would come looking for me. She texted me back, "

Will you marry me?" I didn't know how to answer. After that, she changed her number too. She disappeared into

the vast sea of people, never to be found again. I'm writing about her to commemorate the sexual experiences this woman gave me

, experiences I'd never had before. Although those techniques might seem insignificant to many seasoned men, a man's sexual journey is long, and

there are certain moments he won't forget, so it's necessary to write about her.

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A romantic encounter at a beauty salon

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