[Ten Years of Sex] Author: Unknown

Ten Years of Sex

Author: Unknown
Word Count: 5415 words

(1) The Naive "First Time"

When I had my "first time," I was 15 years old. In these ten years, there have been harmonious sex, as well as simple sex and
simple love.

When I was 15, I had just entered the first year of high school. At that time, a girl sitting in front of me always put a small mirror
on her desk. This was very interesting because several times our eyes met in that mirror. She was in
front, looking at me behind her with the mirror; I was behind, and I could see her in front of me through the mirror.

We slowly and secretly went through the stages of holding hands, hugging and kissing. During the winter vacation of the first year of high school, I went to
her house. The winter in the north is very cold. When I entered the door, I was dressed like a bear. She was only wearing a
thin dress that I thought was very attractive and showed off her curves at the time. In just an instant, my heart started to heat up like the heating in the room
. She helped me take off my coat, and I turned around and hugged her tightly, hooking my arms around her waist,
and then slowly groping inside. Until I felt her skin, and those breasts—whose size I've now forgotten—

I forced myself to hold back my pounding heart and labored breathing as I carried her to the bed.

When I was little, I loved reading comics. I remember in those comics, when the guy saw a scantily clad woman, nine times out of ten he'd get
a nosebleed. At that moment, I had one arm around her waist and the other gently caressing her soft breasts when I suddenly felt a
wetness in my nose. I thought, "Oh no, I'm getting a
nosebleed." So I quickly took a deep breath and said to her, "Look, I'm getting a nosebleed." She looked up, smiled gently, and said, "I told you not to take your clothes off, you've caught a cold."
Just as I was feeling embarrassed, she turned and pulled back the covers, covering me, then lay down beside me, resting her head on my
chest. I rolled over, gently pressing her beneath me, kissing her deeply, then slowly removing
her clothes, leaving kisses on her neck, breasts, lower abdomen, and the inside of her thighs.

We didn't do it that day because I couldn't find the right spot. She was very nervous, and so
was I moved around outside the little hole for a long time before finally ejaculating. It was the first time I ejaculated on a girl. The
feeling was amazing, watching the white stuff fall onto her underwear and lower abdomen, it was very exciting. She said
it seemed like I ejaculated a little inside because of the smell of "it". This made us very nervous.

We almost did it a few times. But we didn't make it happen until we broke up. I thought at the time that maybe I was still too young and
that thing wasn't hard enough. More than half a year after the breakup, I finally felt relieved: thankfully, she wasn't pregnant.

Now when I think back, I didn't really have any desire when I was a teenager. Finding a girlfriend was more
out of curiosity and because it was cool. On my 16th birthday, I had already broken up with my first "her", but I had a very happy and relaxed
year .

(2)

The order of my unforgettable first love is very special: I almost had my "first time" when I was 15. But
the time when I truly felt that I loved someone and was willing to do anything for them was when I was 17. After all these years, I still clearly
remember many scenes from that time. I even liked to look at her during class. Once, our Chinese teacher was lecturing
when she suddenly stopped and said, "Why do I notice some students have such dreamy eyes?"

One hundred days before the college entrance exam, I passed her a note in the morning, finally confessing my feelings.

That evening, I received her reply; I only remember one sentence: "Actually, I've accepted you from the bottom of my heart for a long time."

Even now, I still remember that happy moment.

I don't know if every boy, or many boys, has ever had a
girl like a goddess in their lives. For her, you'd fall into an irrational frenzy. Every
smile of hers could nourish your soul. You'd confess your love to her at a rate of n love letters a day. You'd look at
her, hold her, and feel like you'd never be apart, never go hungry; even if the world ended, you wouldn't be afraid.

After the college entrance exam, we still parted ways.

At first, I still called her many times a day, but she gradually became cold towards me. Until one day,
she told me on the phone: "Let's break up."

I cried and said, "Don't go, I just want to be with you, no matter what."

She laughed and said, "You're such a grown-up, why are you acting like a child? I'm hanging up."

I continued to bother her every day, writing her letters. Of course, there was no reply, no response whatsoever.

I remember in middle school, magazines like *Reader's Digest* and *Youth Digest* were popular for their cheesy, sentimental articles.

So much so that everyone's essays were uniformly sour, enough to cure the graders' indigestion and
insufficient stomach acid. But that's secondary; the most crucial thing is that it poisoned the minds of teenagers.

I still remember one article: written from the daughter's perspective, the daughter asked her father, "Why are you
so good to Mom?" The father smiled but didn't answer; then one day, the mother, like Doraemon, produced
a , containing nearly a thousand love letters from years ago; the daughter secretly resolved, "I, too, will find a
lover willing to wait three years and write me nearly a thousand love letters."

That's what I thought back then, diligently pursuing my ideal of three years and a thousand love letters every day.

We never had sex. Only once, we were completely naked, she hooked her arms around my neck, and said she
didn't want to . I immediately got off her, put her pants back on, and lay back down. That's how it is; every
word she says is my decree, with no room for negotiation.

It's really a strange thing. Why would someone be so infatuated with another person?

A few days ago, I even dreamed of being with her. Six years ago, such a dream would make me wake up with tears streaming down my face. But
that day, 0.1 seconds after waking up, I quickly turned on my computer to see if my Italy had advanced from the European Cup group stage
.

(3) The boundary between love and friendship

makes her stand out here. Because I've never even seriously held her hand.

During my university years, there was a period when I thought I liked her. I even showed my parents her picture, and
my mom said: This girl is not bad looking; she looks a lot like the chubby Han Hong who sang "Come Home Often." I was
speechless. But I think my mom meant Chen Hong; she can never remember the names of those
stars . Han Hong is actually quite chubby, and her lung capacity is at the level
of a girl who could sing "The Qinghai-Tibet Plateau." In high school, we called them "cow-suffocating," meaning they could suffocate a cow with just one kiss.

We often studied together and chose courses together. Once, a group of us were playing Truth or Dare, and she said she...
I'd never had a boyfriend before. After I came back, I messaged her on QQ, saying I'd had one before. She didn't say anything. In the following days,
I felt our relationship was strange. It was this strange feeling that made me think she actually liked me a little and
cared about me.

Back then, watching those Hong Kong Category III films, especially Wong Jing's "Jade Girl Heart Sutra" series, I felt they were practically philosophical films
about sex .

What is invincible skill? It's making the other person completely overwhelmed, yet you remain unmoved; but if the other person is in
the heat of the moment, and you ejaculate first, then your spirit has been captured by them .

So, in this sense, what is a Casanova? It's making the other person love you to the point of madness, yet you
remain in control; you act before the other

person, that's called being a Casanova. I think relatively speaking, there are more Casanovas than women, and more Casanovas than women.
Guided principle, I handled our relationship very carefully. After countless tests and delays,
that fleeting possibility between us finally disappeared. I met my girl, and she met her boyfriend.

Now we often chat, talking about our lives, feelings, and work.

I slowly realized that there are many people of the opposite sex in the world worth admiring, but not in the name of love.

(4) Love and Sex

The summer when I was 20 was my first real experience, a week after I met her. I met her
at the swimming pool. A friend who came with me was an old acquaintance of hers. We started dating soon. During that time,
some friends came to my city, and I booked a hotel for them. After they left, I kept the hotel for
a few because I had a feeling that something might happen between us.

That day, her period had just ended. We hugged each other and leaned against the bed watching TV. I called her name,
started kissing her, and took off her clothes. Her breasts were very nice to touch, and I pressed my face and lips against them and started taking off her
skirt and panties. I didn't know if I was ready, but I just instinctively placed my already hard and hot
penis between her legs. She hugged my shoulders and cooperated with me.

She tried to hold back, but she still cried out, and tears unconsciously overflowed from the corners of her eyes and slid down.

That moment felt like a lifetime ago.

I almost forgot to enjoy my first time; it felt like just going through
the motions . I held her, there was no passion, only muffled moans.

My mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts: Is this it? Is this really it? The sex I'd
fantasized about for so long.

For the first dozen or so times, I was quick, but we started to enjoy it. Once at my house, some friends
were watching TV and playing computer games in the living room. I got up to go to the bathroom, and she followed. I sat on the toilet seat and helped her onto me
. She was still moving excitedly, and I innocently told her, "Honey, I'm coming." She stopped, wrapped her arms
around my neck, and gently bit my ear, her breasts rubbing against my chest. That position was incredibly
alluring . Soon, my penis, which had just softened, was hard again before it had even fully slipped out, and
it continued to penetrate me while we were still holding each other. We kissed passionately as we made love, and that time, she said she felt a tingling sensation on
her neck .

As the saying goes, winter comes, but can spring be far behind? He was actually implying that once the numbness reached her neck, the climax
wasn't far off, and comrades should keep trying.

A few weeks later, we checked into a hotel near her school. That night, she climaxed. There were no
prior signs; if there were any, it was that our time together was getting longer and longer. From less than a
minute the first time, to ten minutes, to several times in a row over several hours, twice a day, morning and evening.

I felt amazing being held tightly by her with all her might.

During the year and a half we were together, we made love countless times in countless places, in countless positions, bringing
each other to orgasm countless times.

Initially, we didn't use contraception, only waiting until her safe period to have sex. Until later, one of her
friends seemed to get pregnant during her safe period. We were terrified and started using condoms. But I still preferred
unrestricted intimacy, and after making love, seeing her lying naked beside me, saying sweet words, and
carefully wiping away the semen that had flowed out. During several rounds of sex, I could even see the semen
from the previous time being slowly squeezed out.

The most beautiful thing is the flush on her chest and the intimacy of sleeping in each other's arms after making love.

(5) One-night stand abc

After breaking up with "her", I found myself becoming a sex addict. Even without love.

I had three one-night stands, or rather, three one-night stand partners:

one was an online friend a who was studying at the same university in the same city as me;

one was an American girl b who lived in the same apartment as me;

and one was a nursing student c from Southeast Asia.

During the winter break of my junior year, I was preparing for the exam to go abroad at school and met a online at night. Because the entire dormitory
floor was basically empty, and I was afraid that the police would conduct surprise inspections of hotels before the New Year, I took her back to
the dormitory . We sat together and surfed the Internet, and then I said to her, "Go to my bed and sleep, it's late." She got into bed,
reached out and turned off the dormitory light, and then started to take off her clothes. My heart was pounding, but I was still sitting at my desk.

There was no movement on the bed, and she lay quietly. I stood up, went to the bedside, and held her exposed
hand.

She said very softly: "Come on up."

I lay down with her and took off her clothes. I straddled her and stupidly asked, "Is this your
first time?"

I guess she was about to go crazy, but she still politely replied, "I've had boyfriends before." I suppressed
the urge to penetrate her, pulled a condom from under the mattress, and put it on, just in case.

Her little hole was unique, or rather, different from my ex-girlfriend's, which dampened my enthusiasm, and
I didn't want to do it a second time.

Later, I realized that, just like Leonardo da Vinci's teacher once told him, there are no
two penises and testicles (or "eggs") in the world. Similarly, there shouldn't be two little holes.

B was my roommate when I was studying in the United States, a graduate student majoring in acting. She was extremely energetic,
jumping around on campus all day, and even came back at night to learn Tai Chi with me, saying it was to relax her muscles. One
day at 3 a.m., I had just finished my homework and opened the door to go to the bathroom to wash up when I suddenly saw a figure baring its teeth and claws in
the dark , which almost made me faint. I turned on the light and saw her still wearing a face mask while practicing Tai Chi. She said she...
She has a mental illness and only needs three hours of sleep a day, but the doctor tells her to sleep more, otherwise she'll die young.

Then we started chatting.

She said a friend told her that sex helps with sleep. I said, "Uh, um..."

She said, "Why don't we try it?" I didn't dare say a word. When I came to my senses, she was already gently hugging
me.

We had sex. Actually, I think that time, I was the one who was raped. I remember that day I
did my homework to 3 am, only eating two boiled eggs in between. I ejaculated very quickly. She wanted more, and I
couldn't bring myself to refuse, so I used my fingers—my poor, almost cramped, fingers from typing—to help her reach orgasm. At that moment, I almost burst into tears. I finally understood how much torture it is to beg your girlfriend or partner to have sex

when they don't want to . After trying it a few more times, I became completely insecure. Her speed and frequency were very fast; later she gave me the nickname "Mr. Three Minutes." I should have told her I was actually Japanese, so as not to embarrass the Chinese. C was a child I met on a business trip, six years younger than me. Because I didn’t have any condoms, I forced myself to let her bend down, stroked her breasts, and ejaculated into her mouth. It was originally a last resort, but later I found that I liked this method, so I simply stopped buying condoms and just put it into her mouth . She initially frowned and said the taste was extremely unpleasant. I remember that eating more vegetables and fruits would be good, so I didn’t eat any meat for those days, drank buckets of juice, and even my sneezes smelled of oranges mixed with coconut. According to her, the taste seemed to have improved. So if you want your partner to do this for you, it’s better to “cleanse” yourself for two or three days first, and it’s also good for your health. Actually, after any one-night stand, I want to “invite” the other person out of my room and then sleep with my pillow. (6) Afterword My current girlfriend is actually somewhat sexually frigid. One of her wishes is to only have sex when she wants to have a child, and the other time we just hug each other. It's so soulful, so beautiful. We play a "game" when we go to bed at night. I say, "Honey, wanna make love?" She says, "No." I say, "Why don't you just say 'love'?" Then I say, "Honey, you're tired. Let's not make love, let's go to sleep." That makes it seem like we understand each other so well. She chuckles and says, "Okay..." and then I jump up. She innocently exclaims, "You still have lines to say!" After doing this two or three times, she never says "okay" again. :) But I still want to be with her. Because in love, sex is just a supporting role. Nothing compares to the connection, understanding, and cherishing of souls. And the passage of time will eventually wear away that youthful restlessness. Suddenly I realize my writing is very thematic. Even when writing about sex, it seems to be praising love and belittling sex. It's like being a prostitute throughout and then erecting a virtuous archway at the end. Actually, to put it another way, there's a big difference in sexual satisfaction and pleasure between loving and not loving. Making love with someone you love feels like a blow to the heart, a gentle yet powerful experience. Afterwards, you chat, kiss, and take a nap. Making love with someone you don't love feels like a blow to the bone, a waste of effort. Afterwards, you rub your sore bones and aching thighs, hug your pillow, and snort silently, dreaming different dreams in the same bed. But even so, it's still somewhat better than making love with yourself. That's it. [The End]

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