Stolen love is also love 1-4

(I)
At this sensitive time, writing this might get me called a jerk, but I really want to record my current feelings
because things will definitely be different in time.

I met Lei over a year ago by pure chance. We'd never met in person or exchanged photos.
It was just normal greetings and occasional professional discussions.
From our few chats, I learned he was a young man from Northeast China, born in the 90s, much younger than me. He was
straightforward, and most importantly, he didn't flirt at all. I never imagined we'd cross paths in real life. It all started with
a text message I sent out of boredom.

At the time, I was on a business trip in a northern city. He saw my photo, greeted me, and
told me he was there too.
Knowing he wasn't interested in hooking up, and as friends of over a year, it was only natural to arrange
a meal together.
My thought at the time was just to meet up; I didn't think much of it, especially since he was such a young man.
My impression of Lei was that he was a tall, open-minded, dark-skinned, and somewhat rugged young man.
When I first saw him at the restaurant entrance, it completely overturned my online impression of him. When a
handsome young man with a blue shirt, short hair, fair skin, and a sunny smile, holding a phone, told me
he was Lei, I was quite surprised. He looked very young, clean-cut,
fair and a bit shy.
We had a very pleasant meal together.
We are both cheerful and straightforward people. Communication was very easy, and we found that we had
surprisingly . There were even some things we did the same, which was quite a coincidence.
After dinner, I wanted to go home, but he said he wanted me to accompany him for a walk, since he wasn't familiar with the city.
I agreed without much thought.
Soon it was quite late, and I said goodbye again. I still remember his expression then—head slightly lowered
, smiling, and saying to me in a coquettish way, "Stay with me a little longer!"
I found it quite funny; a grown man acting like a child, but I didn't find it annoying; in fact, I thought it was quite cute.
In the following days, Lei kept trying to reciprocate by inviting me to a meal, but I was too busy and didn't
think much of it declined.
A week later, Lei called me directly, saying he absolutely had to treat me that day, no matter how late. So
we met again. We had a very pleasant conversation.
In the bustling city streets, as we crossed the street, he grabbed my hand. I
looked at , and he smiled and said, "You're used to looking to the right first. If it's dangerous crossing the street, I'll hold your hand.
" He held my hand, and I noticed he wasn't just clenching it; his fingers were spread and intertwined with mine—
a way lovers hold hands.
After we crossed the street, I subtly let go of his hand. He glanced at me but didn't say anything.

After that, I intentionally avoided him, not wanting him to misunderstand, since I have a family.
Because he said he needed my help with a slightly tricky matter, we met for the third time.
After finishing his business, on the way home, he still held my hand and very formally told me that he
liked me and wanted to be with me, even if only once.
I asked him if he knew I was married and much older than him
. He said he knew and didn't mind. He just liked me and didn't want to disturb my family and life.
I don't deny that I had feelings for him. Just imagine, a handsome, sunny young man, and we
got along so well. Mainly, our personalities aligned. So I hesitated.
Perhaps sensing my hesitation, he hugged me tightly and kissed my eyes, ears, and finally my lips.
I usually don't like kissing; I hate the feeling of lots of saliva. But his kiss, surprisingly, I loved it.
The thickness and size were just right, and the size matched my lips perfectly.
His nimble tongue lightly teased my tongue tip and gently sucked along my lips. My body
reacted immediately; it felt hot. His kiss was very comfortable, not intense, but full of tenderness.
We kissed for a long time, so long that I was surprised I could kiss for so long.
I looked at him, still hesitant, and he whispered in my ear that he liked me the first time he saw me, that
he felt his heart race the first time he held my hand, and that he couldn't sleep because I wouldn't see him, asking me not to hate him.
I'm not a young girl anymore; of course I knew this was a pickup line. But it still worked, mainly
because I also had feelings for him, though I couldn't explain why. The thought was, "He's not afraid of me, why should I
be
?"—especially since he was a young, handsome man. I agreed to meet him.

When we undressed in the hotel room, he gently caressed my body. I immediately
felt something; without even a kiss, I was wet.
Thinking that he was his age and his experience and skill were limited, I told him to take it slow. I was wrong. His technique was amazing. Only later did I realize that he couldn't have developed such skill
without at least a dozen girls . He slowly kissed downwards, burying his head between my legs. He cupped my buttocks with both hands, his tongue licking along the cleft, occasionally sucking on my labia. It was gentle and comfortable; his tongue was hot, sending shivers down my spine. Everyone's experience is different, but I really enjoy clitoral orgasms. After a round of sucking, he went straight to my clitoris, rhythmically licking up and down. Oh my god! His frequency and pressure were exactly what I wanted. For the first time, I felt my whole body trembling—my thighs, my buttocks— uncontrollably shaking with his rhythm. I felt the pleasure building up, increasing with each thrust, until suddenly I orgasmed. In less than two minutes, I came. I gripped his hair tightly and shouted that I had come. He climbed on top of me, smiled, and said, "I know, so much fluid." I felt a little embarrassed. He kissed my face while putting on a condom. Finally, he slowly entered my body. I felt myself being stretched open all at once, and I let out a comfortable moan. He couldn't help but groan as well. To be honest, his penis wasn't the biggest, but it was a perfect fit for me. He noticed that too.

I thought that with his gentle and sunny demeanor, he would be as tender and delicate in bed as his kisses. But I discovered he was
a wild wolf. Unlike a mature man who starts with slow, gentle caresses, he didn't use any of the usual shallow and deep techniques. The strength and impulsiveness
unique made him move like a pile driver. It felt so good
! You know, what I hate most is slow, drawn-out sex. Give me a quick and satisfying experience. His method was exactly what I
liked : loud, slapping sounds accompanied by my uncontrollable moans. He brought me to
the peak of pleasure time and time again.
He didn't ejaculate for a long time. When I asked him why, he just kissed my back and said, "I like you,
I want to give you more pleasure.
" Finally, during my third orgasm, he shouted and released himself.
The hug and kiss afterward left me with indescribable physical and mental pleasure.
(II)

After the passion subsided, my mind gradually cleared. Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked Lei, "Judging from your performance, you must be very
experienced . Tell me, how many 'older sisters' have you booked
? Why do you like booking older women?" He replied very seriously, "Because mature women are charming and skilled
." I then asked what he thought of me, and he suddenly laughed, saying, "You're very beautiful and charming, but your
technique isn't great. But I'll teach you later, haha!"
Actually, I knew my experience was limited and my technique wasn't good, but being laughed at by a young, handsome man was really
embarrassing . I immediately slid down to his lower abdomen, slowly licking his belly and then moving to his thighs.
During sex, interaction between two people is essential for a truly enjoyable experience. What I can't stand the kind of man who
refuses , just doing it silently, no matter how hard he tries, it always feels like something's missing. Just as a woman's moans are a great
aphrodisiac, a man giving appropriate feedback, even a soft sound, is a form of encouragement and communication. I've always
felt that a man's moans, breaths, and even cries during ejaculation are incredibly sexy.
Everyone has their own habits when it comes to sex. Lei and I hadn't discussed it before, but we both found
that we were a perfect match, whether it was the method, the intensity, or our preferences.
I would lick his penis from bottom to top, and he would moan softly when he felt good, encouraging me
to continue in that way. He would also tell me directly that it made him feel good.
I loved that directness; hearing his voice made me incredibly excited. We were like we were on aphrodisiacs,
unable to stop once we touched each other's bodies, making love six times in 12 hours. We were
extremely infatuated with each other's bodies, and even afterward, we couldn't bear to separate.
He said he liked my eyes and my skin. Holding him felt so good, and he didn't want to let go.
Actually, I liked his skin too, and even his scent felt good.
Because the mattress was a bit hard, his knees were chafed. I joked that shouldn't it be the woman's knees that get chafed?
He stroked my hair and said it was because he couldn't bear to see me kneeling.
My heart warmed at that moment, but I rationally reminded myself that this was all a routine; he'd asked me out so many times, he
must know how to make a woman happy.

In the days that followed, we acted like a real couple, holding hands as we strolled through the streets, ate out, and
watched movies.
With more and more contact, we discovered we had more and more in common. We shared similar tastes in food,
similar tastes in clothes, similar preferences, and even some unusual little quirks. So many coincidences surprised us
time and again.
We were always so compatible, and slowly, without realizing it, we started sharing our
lives with each other. He would discuss his work troubles with me, and I would share funny stories from my home with him. Our
relationship relaxed and comfortable. There was no pressure, and we never argued.
I like little trinkets, and he would accompany me to markets big and small. When I found a jade brush washer
and was overjoyed, he would always hug me and say I was too easily satisfied. He said he would give me
something .
Our footprints are everywhere in this city. It feels like I'm back in the days of my first love,
kissing him unrestrainedly on the busiest streets, feeding each other cheese at tourist attractions, and being the center of attention.
These are things I would never have done before.
Of course, our passion never stops. We make love in private cinemas, watching movies while
he thrusts powerfully into me from behind. We also caress each other on the last bus. Then he breaths in my ear
, saying that if he weren't worried about the driver seeing us having sex so intensely and getting into a ditch, he would have wanted
me on the bus.
Every time we book a hotel room, we make love tirelessly, eating, having sex, sleeping, and then
continuing. We don't need much foreplay; a kiss, a caress, is enough to make us boil. This
feeling is unlike anything I've ever experienced before.
I asked him if he does this often, making love 5 or 6 times a time, and he said no, he doesn't know why
he reacts so well to me. Actually, I feel the same way. It just means we're incredibly compatible.
He often said that he owed me money in his past life, so he was waiting for me in this city in this life to repay me with his body.
There are too many coincidences for us to explain; it's all fate, I guess. It's a bit cliché, though.

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