My engineer friend

Every week, I go on a date with a game engineer, just for dinner. He's actually quite good-looking, with dark brown hair, a beard, and black-rimmed glasses; sometimes he wears contact lenses too. He has beautiful eyes and long eyelashes, and is about 176cm tall, a bit thinner than a muscular beast. He told me he often travels to Taiwan for work, so he can speak a few words of Taiwanese. My roommates all like him and say he's handsome, but I don't feel any attraction to him. I always feel like I'm taking advantage of him at every meal. To avoid making him feel cheated, I've paid for the meals myself a few times. He takes me to upscale restaurants and then proudly tells me he designed the ordering system. He loves to chat, speaks very quickly, and isn't very good at flirting; he just says things like, "I think I like you." What does "think" mean? But I replied, "I like you too." I'm such a bad person! He loves to hang out with a group, so most of our dates are with a group, and a few times we met at his place. His apartment was a trendy one, predominantly white. Upon entering, you'd see a long wooden dining table that could seat about ten people, piled high with his work documents and Apple laptop. His bedroom door was incredibly tall—about the height of a temple gate in Taiwan—a single white door. The kitchen had a large counter and a bar, seating about five people; it was very spacious. The living room had a row of floor-to-ceiling windows, a gray L-shaped sofa, and a rug with a pattern that resembled Indian-style fabric. Next to the sofa were cat toys; there was a gray cat named Lucy who often stared blankly at the fish tank. When I first arrived, Lucy kept observing me, nibbling at me. Only after assuring me she wouldn't eat cats did she lie down on my lap to rest, and I gently stroked her a few times. In intimate situations, he was shy and hesitant to touch me, even hesitant to hold hands. A few times, after a few sips of beer, he suddenly lay down on my lap, which startled me a little, but I only lightly stroked his hair—that was all. What should I do… I really hope I can like him, but I don’t feel any flutter in my heart. I should try again, that’s what I was thinking at the time. I thought about Mr. Beast a few days ago, constantly browsing his Facebook page to see what he was up to, but I didn’t contact him. It seemed like he went on a motorcycle adventure to the suburbs with a group of friends a couple of weeks ago. I updated my photo album a little bit those days, and he liked it. My heart was pounding! Then my phone beeped with a text message—it was him!! He said, “What are you doing…” I lay on the bed, my limbs flaring with excitement, and turned to pick up my phone to reply. "Reading..." (I wasn't reading at all, how could I even type that?) "Oh, what are you reading?" Ah—oh no, what am I reading...? "24 Billy" (24 Billy is a book about a schizophrenic patient with 24 personalities) "Sometimes I think I'm crazy..." he replied. "You really are crazy." "Ha—so what personality do you have?" "I'm the most docile and kind type." "Hahaha, that's for the best..." We didn't reply for a few minutes. He texted, "I want to see you...are you free tonight?" I didn't reply immediately. I bit my left thumb, looking at my phone screen. What should I do next? Should I go? But why am I thinking so much...he's just a bed partner, is it necessary to think so much? I really wanted to see him. About ten minutes later, I replied: "Sure, is seven o'clock okay?" My self-control is really weak. He replied: "Of course (winks)." The weather was gradually warming up that day, so I rode my white motorcycle to his house. I was wearing jeans, a white sleeveless ruffled top, and nude low-heeled shoes. My heart was pounding the whole way; I knew I really missed him, but my rationality suppressed the feeling. I had to treat every meeting as if it were the last. If he didn't contact me, I definitely wouldn't contact him. When I arrived at his building, I checked myself in the mirror on my motorcycle, adjusted my hair, and only went upstairs after confirming it was perfect. As soon as he opened the door, there was that bright smile again (Oh my god! I really hope I can get tired of you). He was wearing a pink polo shirt and khaki pants that day. With his short-sleeved shirt, the muscle definition in his arms was even more obvious—very muscular. (Swallowing hard) After smiling at him, I jumped onto him. He giggled and caught me immediately. I laughed and kissed him. But this time, we didn't immediately take off our clothes and make love. After he put me down, he took off my coat and put it in the closet. I knew he wanted to use his tongue on my private parts again. He said, "Let's go to the supermarket to buy some food!" On the way to the supermarket, he took my hand. That day was the first time we held hands, and I don't know why he did it... I thought if passersby saw us, they would think we were a couple. When we got to the supermarket... it wasn't far, just next to the apartment; it was only a short walk from the apartment. While we were shopping, he still held my hand tightly. Actually, I wanted to let go at that moment because I felt we weren't a couple and didn't need to hold hands. "Is there anything else you want to eat?" he asked with a smile. I smiled and replied, "No, thank you." He patted my back and then continued shopping. When we checked out, he only bought a bag of QQ candy, two bananas, and a 19-liter bottle of water. I looked at the bucket of water. It seemed so heavy; I was going to have to carry it all the way back myself. Later, after leaving the supermarket, I carried the shopping bag containing bananas and QQ candies in my left hand, while he held my right hand with his left, carrying the bucket of water on his shoulder. When we got back to his house, I took off my shoes and went to my room first. He carried the bucket of water to the kitchen. When he returned to the room, he looked at me standing by the bed, gave me a charming smile, and walked towards me. He hugged me and we kissed. He slipped his hand under my jeans from behind, kissing me while grabbing my buttocks. I let out a soft moan. We kissed each other as he began unbuttoning my jeans, and I did the same for him. My pants fell down first, and he pushed me onto the bed, taking off his shirt without taking his eyes off me. Then he climbed on top of me, his gaze still deep as he looked at me, a slight smile playing on his lips. He opened my legs and began to pleasure me, and I enjoyed it, grabbing his hair. Then he rolled me over, making me lie on my stomach, and entered me from behind. He leaned down and kissed my lips and shoulders, then bent my legs and slowly entered me from behind again. He was incredibly gentle today. I realized he'd be perfect for adult films; he was completely immersed in his movies, and I was just a tool, a tool to him. After showering, I saw him sitting on the bed replying to messages. Using my superhuman vision, I could vaguely make out the photo in the message; it was probably a girl. I didn't really care. What struck me was that he put his phone down as soon as he saw me come out. It's normal for other girls to like him, because he's attractive. My attitude remained unchanged; I didn't ask anything. I never pry into any part of his private life. I hate it when men make me jealous. It won't make me love them more; instead, I'll choose to leave. I fantasize about grabbing his collar and shaking him, saying, "You actually made me jealous! Who do you think you are—" and then I'll walk away gracefully. But that's just my fantasy, haha. Actually, it sounds like I'm really prone to jealousy… haha, but I hate how I look when I'm jealous. I'd rather not be seen. When you're jealous, you should look in the mirror; you look really ugly and insecure. No one can make me jealous or angry unless I allow it; they won't disturb my inner peace. That night, I chose not to stay at his house. I lied and said I had to go back to the hospital for my shift. Before I left, he gave me that bag of QQ candy. It turned out it was for me. Actually, I haven't eaten QQ candy in a long time, but thanks anyway! I kissed him, got dressed, and left his house. After that day, I declined all his invitations. I started spending more time getting to know the engineer. The next time I met the engineer, it was probably our tenth date. We arranged to meet at his house. I was sitting in the taxi, wondering how many people would be at his house this time. When we arrived, it was just the two of us (oh, there was a plan). I casually asked him, "Where are your friends?" "They went on a trip with friends," he replied. His smile was always so subtle, revealing his perfectly white teeth. "Then why didn't you go...?" I raised an eyebrow and asked. "I wanted to draw with you..."He scratched his head, smiled shyly, and looked at me. "Ah—painting, huh?!" "Haha, is that so? That's great! Where should we begin?" He went to an art shop and bought oil paints. On the black wooden floor, he laid out a white sheet, set up two easels, and placed the paints and water buckets on a small IKEA table. I was actually dressed up that day, wearing a sleeveless reddish-orange dress with a black ribbon around my waist, but he told me to tie an old white t-shirt over it in case my clothes got paint on them, and then I had to tie my hair up. He put on music, and we didn't speak for an hour and a half, focusing intently on our drawing. He drew a hillside, a meadow, and about 20 sheep. It was actually quite a funny drawing. Then he stood far away, looking at his drawing, and exclaimed, "Oh my god! My drawing is so ugly!" I turned to look at his drawing and said, "I think it's very fairytale-like, not bad! Why don't you paint eyes on all the sheep?" "That's a good idea." He dipped his brush in black paint and started painting eyes on all the sheep. Actually, I thought he was quite cute at that moment, and I felt that if he took the initiative, I wouldn't mind having a relationship with him. After that, I was almost finished. I painted the entire canvas black, and then used about 12 different colors to dot the canvas with many colorful dots. He said, "Oh my god—you're a genius!" I touched my chin, looking at my drawing, and asked, "Do you really think so?" "Really! I want to keep this one!!" He looked at me seriously, and then asked me to sign it. I dipped my brush in pink paint and signed my name on the back. I've kept that drawing ever since. The green one on the right is his drawing. Afterwards, we put the painting on the easel, and he said, "Do you want some Indian food? Let's order Indian food." "Sure—" Then he took out a beer from the fridge—again, beer—and asked if I wanted one. I didn't; I didn't want any. At this point, he started to get a little anxious. He seemed to be waiting for my hint, but his anxiety made me unhappy. After receiving the takeout, we chatted while eating. After finishing the Indian food, some yellow curry sauce dripped onto the bar, and he suddenly became very nervous, frantically scrubbing it with a cloth. He was really anxious. Had I made him uneasy? Was he waiting for me to make the first move? But I didn't feel like kissing him. What should I do…? Then he said, "Wait, I want to call a friend in Hong Kong." I asked, "Is it a woman?" He said, "Yes! She has a great personality, and I miss her." He hit a nerve again, so I replied, "You guys talk, I have to go now." After that day, I didn't reply to his texts. He was worried and even called, but I didn't answer. Later, he sent me a picture of him holding my painting. Actually, I smiled when I saw it. Let's leave it for now. If he has other options, then let him go. If he's still willing to date me, then let's wait and see—I need to see what he's really like. Next time, I'll bring a group of beautiful female doctors to a party with them, and then I'll see how he behaves. Actually, it's been a month since I last met Mr. Beast. He contacted me three times in between, but I didn't reply. He probably gave up. But tonight at nine o'clock, he sent me a message saying, "I miss you..." I only replied with a shy emoji. Actually, I wasn't shy at all; I just didn't want to say I missed him too. He said, "Are you busy lately?" "You could say that." "Or do you have someone else? Did I do something wrong?" "No." "Then why haven't you seen me?" "I... I had a serious illness." I rolled my eyes. "Doctors get sick too." "Do you think I'm Superman? Of course I am!" "Hahaha... Yeah! I think you're amazing." "Haha, is that so?" "So what are you doing?" He replied, "I'm doing yoga." Actually, I was cutting my toenails. "Then you can do it with me—" "I'm afraid I'll die." "Haha—that's so dramatic!" Then I asked, "Why don't you have a girlfriend?" "Why do you say that (winks)?" "Just asking..." "I think things are great between us. I'm so busy, I can't even go on dates normally." Actually, I believe him because he doesn't need to lie to me; there's no point in lying to me. "So why don't you have a boyfriend?" Actually, when he asked me that, I felt a pang of sadness. "I'm not saying I don't have one, I've been trying recently." "I don't want to hear about other men, don't talk about that." I rolled my eyes. Why did you ask that then...? I texted again, "So what have you been doing lately?" "My mom came to visit, along with my brother, sister, and cousin. I took them out." "Oh – that's great." "My sister seems to have a lot of stomach pain. Do you know how to get her some medicine?" Here we go again. I hate people taking advantage of me because I'm a doctor, and it seems so convenient. I replied, "I can mail it to you, you pay for the shipping." "Okay! Thank you... I was thinking you'd meet me." "Let's talk about it next week." "Next week? Then Friday, okay?" "Okay... I know." The last text message was a kiss emoji. Next Friday… I looked at my phone screen, wondering if I should meet him next Friday. Friday afternoon, I remembered that I was going to perform hemorrhoid removal surgery on a patient with my teacher that day. He was a shy middle-aged man. I led him to the middle of the operating room, and he suddenly said shyly, “I… I need to go to the toilet.” “Then go ahead, I’ll wait for you outside.” As I watched him go in, I was screaming inside, imagining myself shaking his shoulders, “I just asked you if you needed to go to the toilet, and you said no, and now you need to go again. Remember to wipe yourself clean!! Dude.” My inner world is always so fiery; I always feel like a pervert. Later, he shyly came out of the toilet: “I’m done, we can go now.” After saying that, he dried his hands (I think he didn’t just go to defecate; he went to wipe his butt because he was very clean, no poop, good boy). After the surgery, I took my phone out of my white coat pocket and checked the text messages: A message from the beast: "Remember we have a date today." I smiled as I looked at my phone. After get off work, I rushed home to groom myself, shaving thoroughly. I chose a deep V-neck white shirt and white suit pants paired with black high heels. I usually wear light makeup or no makeup when I go out; his reactions always make me feel that I don't need to put in much effort. But today, I just wanted to look my best, not for him. I remember wearing Chanel red lipstick that day, with a faint rose scent. This time, as I stepped into the apartment elevator, my heart wasn't beating as fast as before. No matter what… when you're losing control, give yourself some time, and your heart will truly become more rational. The elevator doors opened, I pressed the doorbell, and two minutes later, the door opened again, revealing that bright, smiling face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans that day, but this time, a pitiful look suddenly appeared on his face. Was his story going to be... a tragedy? He pouted, feigning pitifulness, and helped me take off my coat, putting it in the closet. I placed my briefcase and white coat, which I needed for work the next day, on his desk, and grabbed my neck with my right hand. He hugged my waist from behind, deeply inhaling my neck: "You've kept me waiting so long..." Then he kissed my shoulder. I turned around, looking at him with a smile, and kissed him back, then slowly sat on the desk, wrapping my legs around his waist. He started getting impatient again, immediately opening my shirt. I really shouldn't have worn this; two or three buttons were missing. (The next day at work, he wore his white t-shirt, the hem squeezed into my white suit pants; it actually looked alright.) After opening his shirt, he took my breast in his mouth, this time with a bit more force. Even when he lifted his head to kiss me, he sucked hard. This time, I needed to give him a hint to slow down, so I bit his lower lip. After seeing him frown, I increased the pressure until he bled a little from his lip line. "Ah!! You're bleeding! You're so naughty..." Then he looked at me...The face of the man, who was licking his lips and slightly raising the corners of his mouth, was a picture of punishment. He suddenly grabbed me and threw me onto the bed in a high-difficulty throw. I really hoped he would throw me again; my heart skipped a beat. He looked at me as he took off his shirt and jeans. Then he grabbed my legs and dragged them towards him. He did it so fast that I cried out, "Ah!" He took off my pants very quickly. Then he laughed and picked me up, making me wrap my legs around his waist. He really showed no mercy and carried me against the wall. My back hit the wall and I cried out, "Ah!" It hurt so much. Then he entered my private parts and violently threw me up. I felt that he was actually sulking, but I didn't know what he was angry about. He looked very ecstatic. Then I bit his shoulder. He frowned, turned around, put me on the bed with my back to him, pushed me from behind, grabbed my hands and pulled me back, making me arch my back. Then he suddenly let go, and I lay face down on the bed. He sat on my buttocks, grabbed my buttocks and continued to push. He let out a few low growls. Maybe this position was tighter than others. He started to speed up, pulling my hair with his right hand. "Ah!" I frowned; his pulling stung my scalp. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You can only have me." "Mmm...mmm..." "Say you're mine!" He grabbed my neck with his right hand and pushed me forcefully. "..." I was silent. "Say you're mine!!" He slapped my buttocks hard. "Slap, slap." I remained silent. He slapped my buttocks even harder. "Say it!!!" "Slap!" "Ah!! I'm yours..." I gasped as I said this. He quickly flipped me over, placing my legs on his broad shoulders in a woman-on-top position. I looked at him, panting, and saw that sexy smile on his face. He gripped my thighs and pushed me forcefully until we both reached orgasm. After the orgasm, my legs were still on his shoulders. He looked at me and kissed my calves...I gave him a faint smile. As I stood up, preparing to shower, I glanced into his condom drawer and saw a woman's long necklace. A smile played on my lips as I slowly walked into the bathroom, him following behind. This was about to be another bathroom battle. [The End]

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My engineer friend

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