A 26-year-old woman's passionate sex life

I am a woman, a normal and emotional 26-year-old. From a teenage girl to a woman about to get married, I have so many
memories about love and physical intimacy that I want to write down.
It wasn't until I had sex with my first college boyfriend at 21 that I began to understand
and enjoy the mysterious and pleasurable experience of sex. My first taste of sex was shy and passive. Under
the guidance of intensive daily training in sexual concepts and watching pornography, I gradually gained an understanding of the female and male bodies. I felt a stirring within me.
His penis wasn't particularly large, but it was long-lasting and tender. At that time, I was shy and didn't know how to flirt or enjoy it,
but I still enjoyed the tender embrace and pleasure in his arms.
As time went on, I came to believe that this was the charm of married life: simple, real, and warm.
After the breakup, what I often missed wasn't the passion of that union, but rather the state of mind, and the man's body and parts became
a vague memory—I only loved the love itself.
My boyfriend, B, is from a long-distance relationship. At first, I was attracted to his sunny, boyish smile and tall, imposing
183cm frame. I always felt so small under his shoulders. Perhaps because of the long distance
, even sex felt incredibly precious. Each time, we fully enjoyed ourselves, entwined, until we were exhausted and fell asleep
. It was then that I truly became so passionate about sex, so deeply enjoying the intimacy of love. We
were each other's second love after our first failed relationships, exploring each other's experiences, caressing each other's bodies, searching for sensitive spots
, and enjoying the pleasure of oral sex—until the floodgates opened. His body captivated and attracted me; his tall stature and
strong physique made us a perfect match, jokingly speaking.
Our first time was in a karaoke bar during a trip to Beijing. The urge after embracing and kissing was
incredibly strong. Our bodies throbbed, our hands searching for each other, trembling as we entered, intertwined, moaning, panting, convulsing to our peak…
still reluctant to part in his tender embrace.
We could only meet once a month, or perhaps more often due to business trips. Each meeting lasted
48 hours. The excitement swelled uncontrollably from the moment I stepped off the train. Meals, laughter, and
hugs were luxuries. Even in hotels, we were meticulous about room selection and location, always
striving for a romantic atmosphere.
The most unforgettable memory was the longing during the SARS outbreak. I risked everything to rent a car and drive to the heart of the most dangerous city
. He drove, I rented a car, and after meeting, we shared a knowing hug and a sweet smile. Afraid of worrying his parents, we
could only enjoy our brief reunions in a simple rented room. After parting, I was physically exhausted and emotionally dejected because
of the impending separation… Long-distance relationships have limited lifespans. Due to various practical factors, I initiated the breakup.
Only I truly understand the heartache and the sense of loss that came with having no one to hold me back.
Perhaps out of habit, as a mature woman, I began to crave love and fulfillment. But
things didn't go as planned. In this restless and adrift era, the luxury of love meant everyone who came close maintained distance
, searching for the best way to survive. Thus, the fast-food approach to love emerged. Direct
contact became a means of emotional support, emotional outlet, catharsis, and sexual release.
I met C at a friend's gathering. His passionate rendition of A-Du's "Tearing the Night" drew my attention to this somewhat
aloof, tall, and thin man. A woman's intuition told me he was watching me too. Physical loneliness? I rashly agreed
to drive with him to Fragrant Hills at night. Under the starlight, everything seemed wild and irresistibly alluring. Our first
intimate encounter in the car involved passionate hugs, kisses, and even touching, but no actual intercourse. We were both slightly
fastidious. The next day, we drove to a resort. That night, I couldn't let go of traditional constraints and didn't
let him truly possess my body—even though we were both ready to climax at first touch.
Subconsciously, I told myself to still love myself—because he had a girlfriend,
a man about to get married. A stranger who had had two abortions for him called me in tears after I decided to leave this distorted attraction, and
I only indifferently advised her to be cautious about marriage.
Indifference, coldness, and calmness. All the beauty made me increasingly rational, and the years of growth slowly eroded it. I
, who claimed to be a moral, high-quality, and cultured woman, still couldn't escape the clichés of online romance.
A tall, humorous, cultured, and knowledgeable man reappeared in my life. Sexually,
I was so lucky; emotionally, I was the poorest of all, because he was already married. I once
cursed: "Stay away from those married men, you son of a bitch!!!"
I really felt like a woman destined for extramarital affairs, needlessly enjoying the pleasures of a paradise! But I only
wanted to be with men who weren't married or had wives. What the hell are men?! He made grand promises,
deceiving a woman into trusting and relying on him to enter into marriage, yet why does he always seduce other women in real life? —
I truly feel helpless against this attraction. In comparison, married men are generally more romantic and
skilled in their sex lives. They understand when a woman's body blossoms, when it erupts, and when it needs them! They know how to cooperate
with their partner's enjoyment of sex, how to stimulate the senses with words, how to be gentle during penetration, how to
synchronize ejaculation with you, how to tenderly kiss every inch of your skin, how red wine can be a flirting agent, how to suggest sexy
lingerie…
It's pathetic that everything he possesses is a result of his advocacy for wives, which he then offers to another woman. I am
a contradictory individual, unwilling to be ridiculed by social morality; I am burdened! Because of the good education I received from childhood and the
deep-rooted traditions within me, I will not be a third party—I will escape and disappear without leaving a trace.
God still favors me, giving me the man I currently have, E. We have never had intercourse, and we rarely even kiss.
I also fear the disappointment that follows physical intimacy.
I have a burden on my heart and need time to erase the memories. I genuinely want to build a family with E. He's a
man who makes me feel secure and reliable. He works hard, has simple social life, and most importantly, loves me wholeheartedly
. I haven't asked him how many women he's had before, nor do I know anything about his health or sexual ability. I'm
considering our union with extreme rationality, knowing full well that it's self-deception, but I want to return to a family,
marry a man who loves and cherishes me, have a substantial income, and enjoy the life we create together…

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A 26-year-old woman's passionate sex life

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