Memories of a Young Woman

Memories of a Young Woman (1, 2, 3, 4)
Memories of a Young Woman (1)

I never thought that one day I would write down my life experiences truthfully. It's probably because of this website that I've read articles written by everyone (of course, such articles are rare) or reposted, and I'm very moved. Everyone's casual talk about sex has eased my initial nervousness.

Perhaps it's because of my age, but I suddenly want to write down my life experiences truthfully. I started keeping a diary when I was sixteen, and I have more than ten diaries now. My diaries truthfully record my hardships in love and my entire journey since I first learned about human relationships. I never thought there would be a place where I could publish these things. After all, I can't tell others these things in my life.

I solemnly promise that I write what I feel, and everything I write is true. Of course, you can also listen to it as a story. Anyway, anyone's affairs, as long as they are not for the parties involved, are all stories.

My story should start when I was sixteen.

That year, my family moved to a new district. Those rows of red brick houses were a symbol of wealth in our small northern town at the time. My neighbor was an eighteen-year-old boy. In the eyes of a sixteen-year-old girl, he was incredibly handsome. He was much taller than me, who was 1.7 meters tall. He was fair-skinned with curly hair, had big eyes, and a high nose. At that time, he was already working, which was astonishing to someone like me who had grown up in a scholarly family, only interacting with books and with a limited perspective.
I've forgotten how I accepted the movie ticket he handed me, but I'll never forget the intense stimulation I felt when he sat next to me.

I gave him my first kiss, my first time. No, perhaps it can't be called my first time. We only simulated it outside our clothes; he never penetrated me. We truly made love after he got married, after I started working, and after I had a boyfriend. He was the one who let a sixteen-year-old girl see a real male body for the first time. It was he who first showed a bookworm the male reproductive organs beyond the pages of books.

Back then, our housing layouts were identical. We each lived in our own separate rooms.

Although our housing was the same, my father was a prominent figure in our local education system, and my mother was a powerful figure in the large factory. We had three children: my older brother was away at university, and my younger brother was in middle school at home. I was a good student, good-looking, and the apple of my parents' eye. His family was different. His father was just a factory driver, his mother was unemployed, and he had five brothers; he was the second oldest. Their grandmother still lived with them. At that time, his eldest brother had joined the army, and his grandmother had gone to visit relatives, so he lived alone in a small room. I, on the other hand, was the most protected member of the family because I studied late every night.

But since he entered my life, everything fell apart. At night, I could no longer concentrate on studying under the lamp. His figure was always visible under the shadows of the trees outside the window, and his familiar whistling could always be heard from outside.

Finally, one day, I couldn't resist the temptation. That night, when I was closing the back window, I used a small stone to prop up the window bars. So, although it appeared I had closed the wooden bars, when the whistle blew again, I quietly pushed open the bars, gently opened the window, jumped into the backyard, and threw myself into his arms. That night, I kissed him, and I knew how sweet the kiss of first love was. That night, we sat at a nearby construction site until dawn. Then, I quietly slipped into the backyard, climbed onto the back window, closed the wooden bars, took a short nap on the bed, and went to school for morning self-study.
Distracted, I sat in class, watching the clouds drift by outside the window, my mind filled with thoughts of his sweet tongue and gentle embrace. Looking at my former friends around me, I kept thinking, "Do you know? I'm in love. I've kissed a man. I've lain in a man's arms." Of course, I dared not tell anyone; at that time, it was an unforgivable sin.

Later, we weren't satisfied with just hugging and kissing. He asked me to let him see my body. After several refusals, I agreed. He saw my small breasts, my white skin, and my tiny belly button—things that seemed so ordinary to me, but he couldn't resist touching them. He kissed them, played with them. I, however, resolutely refused to let him see anything below my waist. And when I went out, I never wore skirts, only trousers.

Then, one night, when the whistle blew again, as I jumped out of the back window, he quietly led me into his house. Actually, I'd been to his house countless times; after all, his only sister was my playmate. Although she was an apprentice while I was still in school, we still often played together. But during the day, his room was always locked, and I'd never been inside.
That night, he took me into his room, and then he lay on the bed, not saying a word. I nestled beside him and whispered, "What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?" He hugged me tightly and then remained silent. I kissed him, tried to comfort him, but he wouldn't speak. Then, he suddenly grabbed my hand and placed it under his abdomen. Ah, I felt a hard, large lump. I pulled my hand back. He grabbed my hand again and this time shoved it directly into his pants: Oh my god, first I felt a clump of hair, and then that hard thing… Although I had imagined the shape of this thing countless times, I still never thought it would look like this, it's so scary.
Later, he took off his shirt and showed it to me. I carefully touched it with my hand, slowly getting used to it, and dared to play with it with my hand. After I played with it for a while, he rolled over and lay on top of me. He pressed that hard thing against me. Thrusting against me, it made my lower body feel hot and burning, both painful and itchy. I said, "Then come in." His tightly closed eyes suddenly opened, then closed even tighter again, only saying, "Who knows if your thing can hold up?" He moved around, and finally he lay on top of me without moving. After a while, he said, "Let me take you home." In
my youthful naiveté, I angrily declared, "Fine, I'm leaving! I'll never come back!"

Years later, reflecting on that time, I realized how much he endured while I was there. Under the torment of youthful, primal sexual desire—a desire that could drive one to the brink of death—it was no small feat that he preserved my chastity.

We didn't actually consummate our relationship until several years later.
I knew he was newly married. But by then, we each had our own lives. One day, I received a call from him at work, inviting me to his home. Without a second thought, I arrived at the appointed time.
His home, his own home, a room where the red double happiness characters still gleamed—he was waiting. Without saying much, he kissed me, embraced me, and led me to his new bed. His hands roamed over my body, slowly unbuttoning my outer garment, then my lower garment, my undergarments… While he did all this, his lips continued to kiss my lips, my face, my eyes, and then he slowly entered my body… Over the years, I had experienced a true love affair, in which I gave myself to my lover. But my lover didn't consider my feelings like he did with his mistress. He unceremoniously took my virginity, which she hadn't been willing to relinquish. So today, when my mistress entered my body, I was no longer a virgin.
He understood all this, but he still moved gently, in and out, in and out. I responded happily to him. After so long, I finally knew what it felt like to have him inside me. Tears streamed down my face… His eyes were also filled with tears.
As he gently pulled me into his arms, I said, "This new house should have been mine." He kissed me gently and said, "It's yours anytime you want, including me. But you didn't marry me? Don't you understand? We are on different paths. Marrying me will only ruin your life." I hugged him tightly without saying a word.
Actually, I understood that our fate was just a fleeting one, like dew. When the sun came out, the dew would disappear, and our fate would vanish without a trace with the rising sun.
And indeed, that's how it was. In the years that followed, we occasionally met, but like two railway tracks, after a brief encounter, our lives diverged further and further until we were worlds apart. Whenever he knew I was going through a rough patch, he would try his best to call and ask me to meet. In his arms, I would always pour out all the grievances I had suffered in the world, and then we would make love passionately, releasing all the pent-up frustration. Until I learned to protect myself in life, to stop hurting myself, to stop crying…

until one day, I discovered I was pregnant. I called to tell him. We met at a friend's house. I told him, and he was silent for a long time before finally asking, "What do you want to do?" I said, "You're not going to make me keep it, are you?" He was speechless. I said, "Okay, I'll handle it myself." He gave me some money, and I went alone to a city not far from home. I had an abortion.
Lying alone on the cold operating table, I suddenly realized that since our lives would never intersect, why should I take myself for granted? He'd been married for several years without children, but he didn't seem to want me to keep the baby. Yes, we lived in two different worlds, but as the man who knew me best, he should have understood that I wouldn't care anymore. Since I didn't care, why should he care about my parents' opinions? Why should he care about what others said? I don't know why, but I suddenly understood everything.

After returning from out of town, he asked me out several times, but I declined each time. I said I wasn't in the mood. He knew I was hurt. Yes, I was really hurt. Years later, I fell in love again, and he, after overcoming numerous difficulties to cure his wife's illness, finally had a child. We met on the street, and I asked with a smile, "What kind of child did you have?" He casually replied, "A daughter." I said, "Congratulations." Actually, I knew his wife had given birth to a son; he said it was a daughter to avoid upsetting me. But I knew deep down that from then on, we were like two parallel railway tracks, and even if we were separated by vast distances, our lives would never intersect again.

As the first man in my life, he completed his journey in my life. He ended his historical mission.
Memories of a young woman (2)

During this time, I encountered my first real love. This love, which lasted only two years, consumed all the passion of my youth, ruining my future and my virginity. Because of the appearance of m, my carefree girlhood ended. In my

first college entrance examination, because of my wasted studies and my arrogance, I did not apply for a vocational school, and my dream of university left me by two points.

On the first day of entering the review class, when I walked into the classroom, I heard the exclamations of the male students behind me. Wow, look at his legs... look at his waist... look at his walking posture, it's like a little sway! I walked past the boys' area without looking to the side and went to my seat. Since junior high school, I have ignored the boys. My classmates all said I was arrogant, but they didn't know that in my eyes, they were all too immature. They were like children who hadn't even grown up yet. I really doubted how many questions they knew.

One morning, when I arrived at the classroom, I discovered my exercise book in my desk was covered in copied and altered poems. I was furious. Normally, I never bothered the boys, and they generally kept quiet about me. What was wrong with me today? As the class monitor, I never interfered, but during self-study today, I was incredibly angry. I severely criticized the boys for talking, hygiene, and disruptive behavior. I issued a serious warning to the boys' section. I said that if these problems weren't corrected, I would rearrange the seating and reassign the students.

For a moment, the classroom was silent; no one understood why I was so enraged. Back at my seat, I stared angrily at my exercise book. Then I felt a gaze fixed on me from behind. I turned around abruptly and saw two eyes quickly averted. It was a tall boy with a fair complexion, small eyes, and slightly upturned lips. Who was he?

After class, I started asking my female classmates about this person… If I had known that I was about to turn the page on the most important, most disheartening, and most wrong chapter of my life, I truly wish I had never asked about him.
Another morning, I walked to school. Outside the school gate, I called out to him as he rode his bicycle towards me. He stood there, one leg up and one leg down, and asked, "What is it?" This was the first time I had seen him face-to-face. His face was red from the cold wind, and his slightly upturned lips were sensually parted. I hardened my heart and said, "Don't write any crooked poems in my notebook anymore." He asked, "What did I write?" I said, "You know yourself." Then I turned and walked away. He passed me and arrived at school first. When I entered the classroom, the boys at the back were laughing loudly about something. I walked straight back to my seat, a strange sadness welling up inside me.
Later, I met L, a girl who was supposedly his childhood sweetheart and a classmate studying for the college entrance exam. She was a very mature and charming girl. Her expressive eyes always seemed to convey something. Perhaps she sensed that M was pursuing me. One day, when I visited her in the hospital, she tearfully told me that everything she had was in M's hands because she had given everything to him. Having
grown up surrounded by books, I was used to romance and even childhood sweethearts, but I had never considered what it meant to be abandoned after starting something. Until one day, when I went to visit L again, M had already left. Watching M's retreating figure, I didn't know what to say. Inside the house, L looked very satisfied. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but many years later, after I had my own sexual experience, I understood that was the look of satisfaction after making love.

Nothing could stop two people who wanted to be together. M and I, attracted to each other, finally came together. Later, we talked about that chance encounter near L's house. M said he went to L's house hoping to run into me because he knew I was going there a lot those days.

Our relationship gradually became semi-public; he openly came to my house after school. Our classmates also slowly found out. Although I felt a little ashamed, I accepted the situation.

Later, before the college entrance exam, he went back to his father's workplace and started working. His father was the head of the unit, so arranging the job for him was too easy. After starting work, he openly came to my house even more.
Later, before the college entrance exam, I received a recruitment notice.

Holding the notice in my left hand and the exam admission ticket in my right, I didn't know what to do. Because I was only two points short the previous year, I was exempt from the preliminary exam this year. The exam admission ticket for the re-examination had already been issued.
Thinking about the exam and about love, I gritted my teeth and went to work.

On July 7th, I watched my classmates, who also worked, enter the college entrance examination hall, while I left the city on July 9th to attend pre-job training in another city. One of the most important decisions of my life was made so easily.
If I had known that my life path would be changed because of this rash decision, would I have been more cautious? In the years that followed, I asked myself this question countless times, and answered it countless times.

After I started working, he officially entered my life and my home.

A few months later, during a playful encounter, after exploring my entire body, he penetrated me. I didn't feel much pain, but the next day I found a few drops of blood on the sheets. This was quite unexpected. Because I had a habit of masturbating, I thought I no longer had a hymen.
The following night, he came to my room, removed all my clothes, and we truly made love.

Years later, I can't even remember many of the details, but I clearly remember that day: the day the man who changed my youth and even my life entered my body, the day I truly lost my virginity.

Later, like most couples in their first love, after experiencing ups and downs, we broke up.

Later, when I went away for further studies, we rekindled our old feelings, or rather, resumed this kind of relationship—but that's another story. Although he could go in and out of my body, he never entered my heart again.

His sexual prowess had declined by the time I finally left him. This is the end for men who indulge too much in their youth. Later, I heard that his relationship with his wife wasn't good, and that immediately came to mind. But I couldn't say it, and there was no one to talk to.

My first man in my life had left the stage.

04-06 I want to say something,
but unfortunately,
I can't say anything .
I don't know who you are,
I only know that I read your article very carefully.
I want to tell everyone that your article is very realistic.
Although there are no descriptions of sex
, I'm not a child; I've had sexual experience too.
Sexual descriptions don't have much appeal to me,
so I read it very carefully.
I don't know if you're still around,
but I vaguely sensed that
you weren't satisfied with your life back then,
especially with the second man.

Hehe~ It's pointless to say anything.
Respectfully submitted,
[Date] 4:14 AM

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Memories of a Young Woman

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