Love and Sex – A University Female Teacher's Personal Account (Parts 1-49)

This post was last edited by ptc077 on 2016-09-28 at 10:06.
I am a music teacher at a university.
University life is monotonous and peaceful. The school doesn't assign me many classes each day, so my days are
leisurely and carefree, even lacking in passion. But when I face my beautiful, voluptuous
female students, I can't help but glance at them a few more times. In them, I can always find a
reflection of my younger self, a glimpse of my past. I too have been through their age, with my own passionate
first love and unforgettable sexual experiences. However, after years of relationships with various men, I am still
single. There are many well-meaning people at the school who always try to introduce me to a boyfriend I could marry,
but I always politely decline with a noncommittal smile. Some male teachers at the school also try to get close to me, but
I can't find a trace of passion in them. Some female students asked me: "Teacher, aren't you lonely all by yourself?" I
always answered them: "Isn't being alone quite nice?
To be honest, how can someone not be lonely?" Whenever the night is quiet, I always like to recall the past, those
men who passed by me like a revolving lantern. They once brought me passion, brought me sexual pleasure,
and of course , they also made me sad, made me utterly despondent. As a normal woman, I also have sexual needs,
and I usually use masturbation to solve my personal problems. I "die" very quickly when I masturbate; in
about two or three minutes, I'll "die," and when I open my eyes, the window is already white, and a new
day has begun.
In this long article, I want to tell the stories of my love and sex with one man after another.

I. My first time having sex, I enjoyed it.
I'm the kind of girl who became aware of sex relatively early.
When I was very young, I found a way to make myself happy with my own hands. Later, after reading about it in a health book
, I learned that this method is called "masturbation." Although I didn't know this very professional term at the time,
it didn't stop me from using my fingers to bring myself pleasure. At night, after finishing my homework, lying in my warm and comfortable
bed , I would always secretly stroke my clitoris behind my parents' backs. The electric-like sensation gave me an
extraordinary feeling, so much so that I later became very addicted to it, like an opium addict.
My first love was a boy named Amao. We went to school together from elementary school through middle school and high school. He
liked me a lot, and of course, I liked him a lot too. In our second year of high school, Amao took me to his house;
his parents were at work. Amao wanted to kiss me, putting his mouth to mine. At that time, I didn't know what
kissing was. Amao said, "Give me your tongue," and I obediently put my tongue in his
mouth. My first kiss felt fresh and curious; I felt hot all over, and my genitals were wet
. When Amao reached out and touched my breasts, I was even a little excited and involuntarily
moaned . Next, A-Mao lifted my clothes and took my nipple into his mouth. I was both ashamed and anxious, but A-Mao
wouldn't let go, like a dog with a bone in its mouth. I almost fainted from his sucking.
After a while, A-Mao came to take off my pants. I refused to let go, not because I didn't want to, but because I was afraid.
A-Mao was very determined. In no time, he stripped me down to my bare skin. I glanced at
A-Mao's genitals. That penis was so thick, completely
different . A-Mao rubbed his penis against my genitals, trying to find an opening to insert it. He accidentally touched my
clitoris, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body. A gush of fluid spurted from my vagina onto A-Mao's chest. A-Mao
exclaimed, "You peed!" I didn't understand at the time, and I was quite shy. I couldn't understand why I
peed at that particular moment. Amao tried to penetrate my sister with his penis, but I grabbed onto that hard, iron-like thing and refused to let him
in. He tricked me into letting it in just a little bit. Before this, I had no idea what sex was, so I thought, "Just
a little bit is fine, and if it's uncomfortable, I'll let him take it out." Amao inserted the head of his penis and asked
if it hurt. I blushed and said it didn't. So he inserted it a little further, and I didn't feel any pain at all . Instead, I
felt incredibly good and even started moaning involuntarily. Encouraged by me, Amao got more excited and started thrusting
hard , but after a few thrusts, he let out a few screams like a pig being slaughtered and lay motionless on top of me. Later,
I learned that this was called ejaculation.
Amao hurriedly found some toilet paper to clean up the mess. He looked at my genitals and said, "
I've heard that you bleed the first time you have sex. Why didn't you bleed?" I had no idea about these things. I almost didn't hear a word he said and
suddenly burst into tears, crying loudly and uncontrollably. Amao panicked and said, "Why are you crying?
I didn't say anything to you!"
I left his house when his father was about to get off work. My feelings at that moment were incredibly complex;
I still can't describe my thoughts to this day. I don't know if I was happy to become a woman or
sad—I can't say!
II. Experiencing the Sweetness of Love
Leaving Amao's house, my steps were light, and my mood was cheerful. I never expected that
interacting with a boy would bring such wonderful enjoyment.
I entered my house humming a little tune. My parents work in the provincial song and dance troupe; my father is the troupe
's principal violinist, and my mother is a solo singer. I inherited my mother's genes and was born with a good voice.
It was their choice that led me to apply to the arts department in college. My mother was cooking, and my father was sitting
in the living room drinking tea and watching TV. My father saw me and said, "My daughter seems to be in a good mood today! Don't go running around like a madman
; take some time to practice your violin and your voice to prepare for your exams." I agreed, put down my schoolbag, and went into
the bathroom . Looking in the mirror, I saw my face was flushed, as if the passion from my time with Amao hadn't faded.
I absolutely couldn't let my parents know about sleeping with Amao; they would beat me to death. Of course, they
wouldn't know anyway.
That night, after lights out, I recalled everything that had happened with Amao that afternoon, my face burning and my heart pounding. After all, it was my
first time, and it was so wonderful. No discomfort, no pain—none
of that existed for me. I drifted off to sleep with sweet memories, and had many
pleasant and comforting dreams.
The next day at school, when I saw Amao, I deliberately avoided looking him in the eye. Amao seemed a little guilty, thinking I had...
I was angry. During break, he slipped a note into my bag, saying he was sorry and
wouldn't do anything to upset me again if I disagreed. Little did he know, I not only enjoyed doing that, but I was also very
willing to do it.
After school that afternoon, A-Mao followed me until we were outside the school gate before he walked up to me and invited me to his house
again . My face darkened: "Why go to your house? Isn't hurting me once enough?" A-Mao got scared
and couldn't speak. I chuckled inwardly; this silly boy, so easily frightened. Nevertheless, I went to
A-Mao . A-Mao took a DVD out of his drawer and asked if I had ever watched porn. I said no.
He asked if I wanted to watch it, and I said if I wanted to, go ahead. A-Mao played a
film . Later I learned that this company specialized in making porn, and their films were indeed of high quality,
having won numerous awards in the genre. The film was incredibly realistic; you could even see the fine hairs on the actors' bodies
. The female lead was beautiful, the male lead dashing, and their genitals
were displayed before my eyes. It was the first time I'd ever seen a film like this, and I was incredibly excited. I felt my lower body twitching and
I felt wetness flowing out. As I watched further, I felt like I was going to faint. Ah Mao was standing behind me, and
one of hands slipped inside my collar, gently kneading my nipples, sometimes the left, sometimes the right
. He carried me to the bed, undressed me, and I was almost completely unaware.
When he mounted me and penetrated me, I immediately felt excited, closing my eyes and moaning unrestrainedly. My beautiful voice
was on full display in bed. Ah Mao, afraid I was moaning too loudly, kept trying to cover my mouth with his, but it was no use
.
That day, Ah Mao and I came twice, the second time lasting even longer. Afterwards, I was practically paralyzed on the bed
. If Amao hadn't urged me, saying his mother was coming back soon, I don't know how long I would have stayed in bed.
Making love with Amao was like a child tasting the sweetness of honey; from then on, I couldn't
stop. Every few days, we'd have a feast in bed, to the point that Amao's face became thinner and sallow
.

III. My Homeroom Teacher Had His Eye on
Me As a girl, many people often have their eyes on me;
especially as a girl with some looks, the "eyes" are likely to be even more numerous.
To this day , I still wouldn't dare say I'm a beautiful girl, but I can proudly say: my appearance
is probably not bad.
What I didn't expect was that my homeroom teacher had his eye on me and was setting his sights on me. My homeroom
teacher's surname was Wang. After graduating from the Chinese Department of a teachers' college, he was assigned to teach Chinese at our high school, and had
only been here for three years. He was tall, with a fair complexion, and was very polite. He was especially good at teaching
, speaking fluent and standard Mandarin, every word he uttered was so pleasant to listen to, like a professional broadcaster.
Later, after getting to know him better, I learned that he had been in the school's amateur drama troupe. He went to university from a rural high school,
embodying all the virtues of rural students: diligence, studiousness, and frugality. He said that before joining the school
drama troupe , his Mandarin was extremely non-standard, even heavily influenced by his local dialect. At the time, the school was putting on a play, and his appearance
perfectly matched the male lead, except his Mandarin wasn't very good. The drama troupe leader came up with an idea: to use an A/
B role system, designating Mr. Wang as the B role, meaning he
could . The A role was from the city, spoke excellent Mandarin, but was less attractive. His
co-star was also from the city, had worked as an amateur radio host in the local area, and naturally, spoke
impeccable Mandarin . For some reason, the female classmate fell for him, saying that acting with him was exciting, and wanted to "help"
him get the part. In his spare time, female classmates tutored him in Mandarin, meticulously reviewing his lines word by word and
line by line. Our teacher, Mr. Wang, was incredibly intelligent; through diligent study and practice, every
line he uttered was perfectly in tune. When the student council and the Youth League reviewed the program and finalized
the cast , they immediately decided to cast Mr. Wang as the male lead. Mr. Wang rehearsed even more diligently,
becoming an overnight sensation at the school's May Day arts performance, attracting the attention of many students
. Some younger students even asked him for autographs.
Mr. Wang's popularity also stemmed from his meticulous lesson preparation and delivery. He could recite
all the texts , whether in vernacular or classical Chinese, flawlessly. This
was unbelievable to me and my classmates; memorizing a text was an incredibly difficult task!
When Mr. Wang read aloud to us, it wasn't just reading, it was performing; the classroom became his
stage. We were all proud to have such a wonderful teacher!
Mr. Wang first praised me because of one of my essays. Looking back now, that essay was nothing
special , but after Mr. Wang's comments, it was on par with contemporary famous writers. My
interest in learning Chinese grew stronger from that moment on. I followed the teacher's instructions completely, memorizing what needed to be memorized and
constantly practicing writing in my diary.
I've met Mr. Wang's girlfriend; she's a very beautiful girl, with a graceful demeanor. She teaches foreign languages at another middle school 15 kilometers away from
our school. One afternoon, I saw Mr. Wang and his
girlfriend walking on campus. The moment I saw her, I was stunned by her beauty and felt happy that Mr. Wang had
found such a wonderful girlfriend.
One day after Chinese class, I handed Mr. Wang an article I had just written for the school newspaper, asking him
to give me some feedback and revisions. Mr. Wang smiled slightly, tucked the article into his lesson plan, and took it away. That afternoon, Mr. Wang
asked me to come to his dormitory/office. I knew Mr. Wang wanted to discuss the article with me. Sure enough,
that was what Teacher Wang was talking about. He praised me again and handed me the revised manuscript. I
glanced ; Teacher Wang had made many corrections in red ink, showing he cared about me as a student.
As I was about to leave with the manuscript, Teacher Wang said, "What's the rush? Let's chat for a bit." A long time has passed, and
the specific details are now hazy, but I remember he was very excited, his facial expressions extremely vivid. Then,
he hugged me, kissed my face, and even fondled my breasts outside my clothes. I was incredibly shy; I had never
imagined having such close contact with the teacher I respected so much. While touching me, he said he liked me, and...
He said some sweet nothings that I only vaguely understood, making my heart race and my face burn. Then, he reached inside my clothes and touched
my breasts. I don't know about other women, but my breasts were like a switch for desire; as long as he controlled them
, I would go weak. At that moment, I went limp in his arms, letting him do as he pleased.
When he reached down and touched my private parts, I said no, no, but I had no strength to stop him.
I don't even know how Mr. Wang took off my pants. He placed me on the edge of the bed and put
his mouth, which he usually used to "preach," into my mouth, gently kissing my labia. Then,
he licked my clitoris. At this moment, an embarrassing scene happened. After a shudder, my vagina
started to squirt, spraying water all over Mr. Wang's body and face. Ignoring it, Mr. Wang pulled down his
pants , took out his already hard penis, and gently entered my body. Because of my previous
sexual experiences with Amao, I felt incredibly pleasurable when he entered me, moaning and groaning. Teacher Wang's technique
in bed was better than Amao's; sometimes light, sometimes heavy, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, driving me wild.
When Teacher Wang ejaculated, he pulled out and ejaculated onto my vulva, afraid I'd get pregnant.
After we finished, Teacher Wang helped me get dressed and changed his wet clothes as well. During this time,
I never dared to look him in the eye. When he saw me out, he patted my head and said two words: "Love-seeker!"
IV. The Sexual Battle After the College Entrance Exam
Because of preparing for the college entrance exam, my sex life with Amao became sporadic. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but that I refused.
Amao, that little lecher, was young, but all he thought about as an adult was sex; his academic performance was predictably poor. My first time having sex with
Teacher was also the last, because he got married soon after. His wife was
gentle and loving before marriage, but after marriage, she was strict with him, eliminating any chance for him to cheat.
Looking back now, I realize that Mr. Wang's wife must have been a woman with an extremely strong sex drive. Her demands on Mr. Wang were
endless. Ever since their marriage, Mr. Wang hadn't been as energetic as before, often appearing listless and
exhausted. Once, he let us study on our own, and while he was looking at a mock exam paper in class,
he actually fell asleep and started snoring. The students in the class secretly laughed. After class, Amao said to me, "Marriage
isn't a good thing for men. Look how tired Mr. Wang is." I glared at him and said, "You should worry about yourself
. He's a teacher now. Why are you meddling in his affairs?" Amao smiled sheepishly and made
a face at me.
The day after the college entrance exam, Amao clung to me, refusing to leave. He said that after the exam, we should relax and
wanted to go out to eat together. I knew what he was thinking, and since I was also a little itchy, I
went to eat with him. After the meal, he said that his aunt had just moved into a new house, and he had
a key asked if I wanted to go see it. That rascal, Amao, never puts any effort into his studies, but when it comes to plotting against me,
his head is full of mischievous ideas. I didn't want to expose him, so I pretended to be happy and said, "Let's take a look, I love looking at
other people 's new houses.
" It's only two stops away from Amao's aunt's house. It's a newly built community with over a dozen buildings and
very , featuring artificial hills, a lake, and covered walkways—everything you could want. His aunt's house is beautifully decorated; the living room,
bathroom, and kitchen are all meticulously designed, a world apart from our old house. Amao's
aunt runs a clothing business, and his uncle runs a building materials business; they've made a lot of money in recent years, so living in such a nice house is
perfectly reasonable . Amao showed me his cousin's bedroom. Although it wasn't large, it was beautiful, and
one look at it made you feel warm and cozy.
In his cousin's bedroom, Amao suddenly hugged me and kissed me without warning. I pushed
him away, saying, "Be careful when your aunt's family comes back." Amao said they were all busy with business and wouldn't be back until evening. Summer
clothes are thin, and Amao unbuttoned my shirt, opened his mouth wide, and took my nipple into his mouth. I felt dizzy and
collapsed onto the bed. Amao, like a paparazzi, ate one nipple after another, his two
paws never idle, groping my body until I was panting and moaning. Amao's hand
probed my genitals, and he said mockingly, "You said you wouldn't, look how wet you are down there," making me feel embarrassed.
Because we had already been intimate, the foreplay was much simpler. We stripped naked and embraced
. Amao's penis pressed against my inner thigh, hard and hot, intensifying my sexual desire.
Amao kissed my eyes, my face, gently biting my earlobe, kissing me from top to bottom. His mouth lingered longest on my
genitals , his nimble tongue teasing my inner thighs, labia, and clitoris. I
writhed like a snake, squeezing my legs together tightly. Amao, relentless, closed his lips and took my
clitoris into his mouth. I felt like I was on a high-voltage line; my vagina tightened, and I started squirting again.
This time, the duration, range, and volume of the squirting startled Amao. During the squirting,
I experienced continuous pleasure. Amao, already impatient, climbed on top of me, thrusting forward, and his
penis entered me, pumping vigorously.
After the first round, Amao hugged me tightly. He said, "Why do you always pee during sex
? It gets everywhere wet." I said, "I don't know, I try to hold it in, but I can't." Amao said, "
Is this a disease?" I said, "I don't know." Among the several boyfriends I dated later, they all said that my squirting during sex was
a disease. One boyfriend even called a radio station to ask how to treat his girlfriend's frequent urination during sex. It wasn't until I
met a "wise" boyfriend that he said it was normal. I lived in this "pathological" state
for years, whether it was a disease or not, and loved for years.
That afternoon, Amao and I made love six times, and each time I had a full-on orgasm. While sex
was enjoyable, getting Amao's cousin's bed wet was a hassle to clean up. Amao
hung , and I said I'd go first, and he could clean up the house. Amao agreed.
As I went downstairs, my legs suddenly felt weak, and I stumbled. Look at this lovemaking!
V. I became pregnant with Amao's child.
During the time I was waiting for my college entrance exam acceptance letter, I was filled with anxiety.
The only way to relieve this anxiety was to find another activity that interested me to dilute or dispel
it .
During this time, the person I was closest to was Amao. My parents, along with the uncles and aunts of the dance troupe...
His "heart-to-heart" visit to factories and rural communities provided an excellent opportunity for Ah Mao and
me to spend time together. He came to my house every day, like going to work, and each time he brought a pornographic film, which he would put in the DVD player regardless of my
wishes . Perhaps it was because I watched too much porn back then that I became wary; now I resolutely
refuse to watch it, finding it too boring and a pure waste of time and energy—it's all the same old stuff,
nothing interesting. But it would be a lie to say that porn had no impact on me or didn't arouse my desire. Ah Mao and I
often ended up together while watching it. Our sofa, carpet, and bed became our battlegrounds for
lovemaking . During my parents' week-long "heart-to-heart" visit, my home was filled with the atmosphere of passion.
I had read books about sex in my first year of high school and still occasionally reread them; the possibility of pregnancy through sex had always been
my biggest concern. At first, Ah Mao and I were quite cautious, but after several times without incident, the tension
eased. What's worse is Amao. He always said it was nothing, that he knew how to control it, which
put my mind at ease.
But then it happened. During that time, I felt extremely unwell. I, who used to have a good appetite,
suddenly lost it. I love braised pork trotters, and when Amao bought them for me, I felt
nauseous just looking at them. I told Amao, "Oh no, I might be pregnant." Amao's face turned pale with fright,
and he kept saying, "How could that be? How could that be?" I glared at him. "Why not!" Amao stammered
, "What should we do?" Seeing Amao's panicked state, I actually laughed. "What should we do
? We can't just have the baby now!"
My periods are usually regular, but this time they were irregular, and my symptoms were getting stronger. The unplanned pregnancy
put me in an awkward situation. I had to suppress my discomfort while pretending to be
happy . Amao also carried a heavy burden of worry, and the smile disappeared from his face. One day
when he came to my house, he was so preoccupied with what to do on the way that he got grazed by a tricycle and scraped his knee. I
told him to talk things out, there was no use in panicking, and if it really came down to it, we could just go to a small clinic for an abortion. Amao, being a man
in this would be even more troublesome.
Amao told his aunt about my pregnancy and asked her to help him figure something out. His aunt wasn't angry with him; she even
joked , saying, "This proves my Amao is okay!" His aunt had a friend who was a doctor in the obstetrics and gynecology department of a hospital. She made a
phone call, and Amao and I went to the hospital. After the test results came back, even though I was somewhat prepared, I was still
shocked by the result—I really was pregnant. The doctor said that if I wanted to have an abortion, I would have to wait about 10 days and come back then.
Before we even left the hospital, I started sobbing. Amao was at a loss, wanting to comfort me but unable to find the right
words, and he was so anxious he kept stamping his feet. Afterwards, I thought that it wasn't entirely A-Mao's fault. If I had insisted on not letting
him touch me, this wouldn't have happened. But when desire arises, how can either of us
control it? That's life, that's existence, that's the endless
drama that men and women in this world are forever enacting.
Before the abortion, I made a promise to my parents that my classmates were going on a three-day trip.
My mother packed my things, repeatedly reminding me to be careful, and then went about her business. After the surgery, I
stayed at A-Mao's aunt's house for three days. The food she cooked for me was delicious, and I suddenly
had a huge appetite, eating until I was completely stuffed. Isn't that strange? With that little thing in my belly, I couldn't eat anything else, but once it
was gone, everything tasted delicious.
A week later, I had fully recovered. Then, I felt itchy again, and I started craving that
kind of thing between men and women again!

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Love and Sex – A University Female Teacher's Personal Account (Parts 1-49)

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