True Story

That was two years ago. My husband was away in another city, and I was home alone. My husband and I had always had a very harmonious sex life; we had many different ways of making love, and I was an easy woman to orgasm and enjoyed sex very much. He was away, and I was lonely. Sex was part of the reason, but the main reason was loneliness.
One day that winter, I went to the city where he lived for some business. After arriving, I sent him a text message. I didn't think about meeting up or anything; I just wanted to let him know I was there. He kept asking me to meet up, saying he'd wait for me to get off work, but I didn't think much of it. That night, I stayed at a friend's house, chatting with my friend, when he called and asked where I was. I told him I was at my friend's. He asked for my address, which I gave him. He said he'd come over right away. I thought meeting up wouldn't hurt, and since I hadn't really thought about it that way, I agreed. About 20 minutes later, he called me again to say he had arrived. Looking back, I was really bold. I told my friend I'd just come up in a minute, without a bag or phone, thinking it would only take ten minutes. So
I went downstairs and saw an Alto with its lights on. A somewhat thin man was sitting inside reading a book. I knocked on the window, and he opened it. I smiled at him naturally, and he smiled back and asked my name. He was quite polite, and I felt a little fond of him. Then he invited me to get in. I felt a bit awkward standing, so I got in and we chatted for a while. He said he'd take me for a drive. I hesitated a bit, but agreed anyway. I borrowed his phone to call a friend and then we went out together.
It was already past 10 p.m., and the flashing neon lights made me think a lot. The atmosphere in the car became somewhat ambiguous. The car stopped on the Third Ring Road. Outside was a small grove of trees, dark and barely visible. He reached out and took my hand. I let him hold it and listened to him speak. His hand was delicate, but rather small. The car lights were off, and the neon lights outside flickered. Suddenly, he very roughly touched my face, and I was instantly captivated. My heart had been so cold, and my desire exploded. I pressed my face against his and began kissing his earlobe and forehead. I felt his rapid breathing, which excited me. I leaned into his arms, pulled up his clothes, and kissed his chest. My hands wandered into his waistband and grabbed his penis. I felt it was already hard, but it was quite small. I was a little disappointed; compared to my husband's, his was much smaller. But I was too embarrassed to stop, and I couldn't stop anyway. I thought that even if I stopped, he would probably rape me anyway, and besides, I wanted it too. I pressed my face against his knee, wanting to kiss his penis, but I couldn't undo his pants. He unbuttoned them himself quite quickly. When I buried my face between his thighs, it felt clean, with no unpleasant smell. Without hesitation, I took his penis into my mouth. He immediately made a loud noise. I rarely heard men moan during sex, which excited me. (To be honest, I hadn't been with many men back then, so I was quite bold and hadn't considered any diseases or anything like that. I wouldn't dare now.) My oral skills have always been quite good. I took his penis into my mouth... I licked him with my tongue, licking it up and down with the tip of my tongue, sucking on his foreskin, gently biting his glans, licking his urethra and coronal sulcus. Because his penis was relatively small, it was effortless for me to kiss him. For about 20 minutes, he kept grabbing my breasts, stroking them, and pinching my nipples, which felt quite good to me. He kept making sounds. I got a little tired and sat up. By then, his seat was already pulled up to his knees, his pants were down to his ankles, and my clothes were open. The scene on the bus was one of lewdness.
I saw a bottle of mineral water on the bus, picked it up, took a few sips, and rinsed my mouth. The temperature in my mouth cooled down. Then I took a mouthful of water and suddenly took his penis into my mouth. He immediately squeezed my breasts tightly. The water in my mouth flowed and swirled between his penises as I kissed him. I don't know how he felt, but I think it must have felt good because his grip on my penis became very heavy. His hand also reached down to my lower body, which was already wet. He rolled over and quickly unbuttoned my pants, hurriedly trying to take them off. Because it was winter and I was wearing thick clothes, it wasn't very convenient for him, as there was a seat between us. He quickly placed my chair on his knees, climbed on top of me, and kissed me. I quickly took off my pants, and he inserted his penis and started moving. He seemed very excited and ejaculated shortly after. It was disappointing.
But soon, it seemed like only a short time before he got an erection again. This time he carried me to his seat, lay down, and let me straddle him, letting me move on my own. Because it wasn't very enjoyable, my memory isn't very clear. I only remember that he ejaculated again very quickly, and I didn't reach orgasm either time, which was a pity for me, because I'm a woman who almost always orgasms during sex. After we finished, he got dressed while I was still getting dressed. Suddenly, a police car drove past our car for a long distance, then turned back and stopped behind us. I was startled and panicked. He quickly got out of the car, the police asked him a question, and then left. I got dressed and got out of the car too. He hugged me contentedly, gazing at me for a long time, then picked me up and spun me around. At that moment, I felt much more satisfied than during sex.
We never saw each other again after that. His QQ avatar would occasionally light up in my friends list. He told me he thought I was really good at sex and even invited me to play. However, because his sexual ability wasn't great, and because I wasn't so clueless about the internet anymore, I never wanted to see him again. You'll probably laugh and say it's because of the former, but I really don't want any more one-night stands. They're meaningless, dangerous (I was terrified for a long time after that incident), and you might not even meet a good partner, at least not for me. It's safer and more reassuring to be with my husband, doing whatever I want. How wonderful.
Writing these articles these past few days has brought back many memories, so today I'll share another experience with you!
Back then, I was still in school. One Saturday night, a close friend and I went dancing outside of school. After the dance, a friend I knew before invited us to dinner. I had a few drinks that day, and I felt a bit adventurous. After dinner, he invited us to his place, and I didn't object, so I went with my friend. I had known this guy for a while; he had pursued me, and I had a slight crush on him, but nothing ever happened. Although I knew something was bound to happen at his place that day, I secretly hoped something would happen.
He was a paper wholesaler. Since his warehouse wasn't far from the dance hall, he took us there. My friend went in and immediately lay down on his bed, completely dizzy. I was also feeling a bit lightheaded. When I saw him go to the restroom, I followed him, intending to go too. But I was so dizzy that I couldn't move when I got to a pile of paper, so I leaned against it and waited for him. When he came out, he walked up to me and asked why I was drunk. I immediately hugged him. He didn't seem to react at first, but he quickly hugged me back, pressing his face against mine. I'm most afraid of being kissed in the ear, even if it's just someone breathing on it. With the alcohol, I became crazy. I started kissing his face, his ears, his hair, his neck, and soon I was kneeling down beneath him. He unbuckled his belt, and I immediately took his penis into my mouth, forgetting that he had just come out of the restroom. But probably because he drank too much beer, there wasn't any particularly unpleasant smell. (By the way, generally, men don't have much of a smell down there after drinking beer, especially after going to the restroom many times.) (I knelt and kissed him repeatedly for a while. He couldn't hold back any longer and picked me up, putting my legs on his waist. This was a position I really liked. I remember I was wearing a white cheongsam with lotus flowers printed on it. When my legs were spread apart, the cheongsam was lifted to the sides. (I've never forgotten this scene and often think that if I ever have the chance to direct an adult film, I'll definitely include this scene.) He was fucking me very hard, and I remember my friend was lying behind a pile of papers. I didn't dare to make too much noise, so I could only grit my teeth and endure the intense thrusts, making unpleasant whimpering sounds. His penis was also quite small and short, but the thrusting was quite powerful. However, it didn't feel like it penetrated very deeply, and there wasn't that kind of painful yet exciting feeling of being torn apart. But because of the powerful thrusting, it was still very enjoyable. However, that position didn't really rub the G-spot. It was just that the pleasure of thrusting was very intense. With just that one position, I guess it was too stimulating. He finished in less than 10 minutes. I felt very unsatisfied.
After we finished, I went to the bathroom. Later, my friend told me that she knew we were having sex, but she was just pretending to be asleep. After he finished, he climbed on top of my friend and tried to kiss her and touch her breasts. My friend pushed him away.
We were tired and wanted to sleep. My friend slept on the bed, while he made a makeshift bed out of a pile of papers. It was quite soft, so we slept there. But before we could fall asleep, he got excited again and pinched me hard, digging his long nails into my nipples and body, scratching my genitals with his hands. He made me kiss him for a while, then rolled over on top of me and finished in one position. It was incredibly torturous, but I didn't even have an orgasm, which was incredibly annoying.
He kept pulling my breasts until dawn, then woke up again and made me kiss his penis for a while. Then he made me sit on him, but unfortunately, his penis was a bit soft, and it kept slipping out when I moved hard, which was very disappointing. This time, he ejaculated much later, but it wasn't very satisfying for me.
Later, he became my friend. I have a friend I occasionally call to confide in, but I avoid having sex with him—it's too boring.
After writing all this, many people might think I'm a bad woman. I can't say for sure whether I should be categorized as good or bad, but I have a respectable job, a happy family, and I love my family very much. The reason I'm writing this is because my husband isn't home, so I'm venting online. But everything I'm saying is based on my true experiences. I'm from Sichuan, and I guess Sichuan people are naturally fiery.

Actually, many years ago, I was a woman who hated sex and would cry as soon as I had sex with my husband. Thanks to his "training," I went from hating sex to enjoying it, able to reach countless orgasms in one session, even anal orgasms. He allowed me to experience a lot of pleasure that others can't. Also, as some hot girls have said, her good figure is all thanks to Beckham's virility in bed, so my figure has always been well-maintained, which is undeniably related. If any of you encounter a girlfriend who isn't cooperative, feel free to ask me for advice.
Before I was with my husband, I had a first boyfriend. We got together when I was 16. Back then, we had plenty of opportunities; we often slept in each other's arms. After all, we were young and had natural sexual urges. However, knowing the importance of virginity, I never dared to do anything with him. Besides, I didn't know much about sex. At most, I would let him climb on top of me and play with me. I remember that day was a summer noon. I was wearing long stockings, and we were cuddling and playing around as usual. He climbed on top of me and played with me, kissing me. Later, he couldn't resist and took out his penis and rubbed it against my penis. By then, I was used to this kind of game and wasn't afraid of him. I also liked him a lot and wanted to make him happy. As we played, that habitual limpness returned (now I realize it was because my hymen was too strong, so it hadn't broken despite playing that kind of game many times before). But that day it just broke like that, and I didn't even feel it. I only knew that I was trembling all over from the pain, and because of the pain, I didn't even feel him penetrating me. I was completely dumbfounded and
didn't even react. It was a long time later, when it was time to go to school, that we got up and I realized there was blood everywhere, a lot of it, bright red. I was completely stunned.
We dated for three years and had sex often, but I never reached orgasm. However, I loved having sex with him, simply because I loved him and was willing to fulfill all his requests. Back then, sex was very simple, and I knew very little about it. There weren't many tricks; the most common was the old-fashioned missionary position.
The most memorable time was by the river in my hometown, one summer evening. We found a secluded spot. I waited for him on the bank while he went to bathe. After a while, he climbed naked onto the bank, hugged me, and since I was wearing a skirt, he put me in the grass by the river, lifted my skirt to cover my face, and pulled down my underwear before having sex with me. The grass by the river was a bit sharp, and I was a little worried that someone might see him, so he finished in a few strokes. Then I couldn't find my underwear, so I had to go home naked, thankfully it was night.
Later, he went to Beijing for school, and we finally broke up. I didn't see him for ten years. This year, he returned to my hometown, and coincidentally, I happened to pass by his house that day. I was on the bus and saw him for less than a minute. My tears streamed down my face for my past love. Ten years of separation, a vast and unforgettable separation, I try not to think about him, but I can't forget him.
Fortunately, God loved me and gave me a husband who loves me. My husband is truly wonderful. Although he knows everything about my relationship with my first love, he has never used his body to hurt me in our ten years together, which touches me deeply. So I think men should be more magnanimous; your woman will be incredibly grateful.
Of all the men I've been with, my husband is the best. He's 1.72 meters tall and weighs around 150 pounds, while I'm only 158 meters tall and weigh about 98 pounds. I love lying in his arms, being affectionate and playful. I also love the feeling of his weight on top of me; it makes me feel safe, and there's a slight sense of being masochistic. I think everyone has some masochistic or submissive tendencies, and I lean more towards the former. In our more than ten years of sex life, apart from the beginning when I didn't really like him, we're now increasingly fulfilled, with more and more variety in our sexual experiences.
My first time with him was because he had been drinking and was pretending to be drunk. Despite my strong resistance, he forced himself on me. His penis was huge, the biggest I'd ever seen. Although I wasn't a virgin at the time, we hadn't had much sex, and the pain was excruciating. It felt like I was being torn apart. I burst into tears, kicking and hitting, but there was nothing I could do. There was no pleasure whatsoever; I just wanted to die. We were both young then; he was only 19, and his libido was high. He often came to see me, and since I lived alone, it was convenient. He had no inhibitions and would often take me into his room whenever I was alone and have sex with me. His stamina was also incredible; he could go on for as long as he wanted, and he wouldn't ejaculate if he didn't want to, including in our current life.
Our sex life has been very varied, including having plums in the vagina, smoking on the anus, using various vibrators, and many different scenarios, which I'll talk about in the next post.
These past few days, because of the novelty and the encouragement from everyone's comments, I've been writing whenever I have free time. I'm really tired. I've been asking for help on how to add pictures, but no one has given me any guidance. If someone could, I could definitely show you all a better version. I also hope the moderators can offer some encouragement; it gives me more confidence.

Originally, I planned to edit together some scenes from a short film my husband and I made to accompany this article, but I don't know how. Yesterday, I sent the photos to a friend, and he said the photo quality was poor, and it required free hosting space, which I don't know how to do. I feel it's a shame I can't use pictures, so I'll have to postpone writing this chapter today. If anyone is familiar with this process, please send me a message. I can show you the photos first, and then you can help me add the pictures, okay? But please don't lie to me.
Yesterday we were talking about the game we played where the baby eats plums. That happened many years ago. Back then, I was already quite interested in sex. One day, we were playing around again. My husband loves looking at my body, so he stripped me naked and held me in his arms, touching me all over, making me feel itchy. My heart and body were itchy, and then he touched my breasts. He bent down and rubbed his face between my legs, making me laugh.
I couldn't help but try to push him away, but he held onto my waist tightly. My waist has been 1.9 feet for over ten years, and it fits him perfectly, making me even more itchy. I giggled and shook myself, trying to throw him off, but he gripped my waist even tighter, preventing me from moving. He then slipped his tongue inside, roaming between my labia. (Speaking of which, I remembered something. Although my husband has always been very knowledgeable about sex, he only learned where a woman's clitoris is after many years with me. Before that, he always thought it was a protruding area inside the vagina. I think most men know where it is, unlike him who is so clueless.) His tongue was sticky and wet, licking me, making my heart tighten and causing me to moan. Then he slid his tongue down to my vagina and forced it in. His tongue wasn't long, relative to my vagina, but the feeling of it moving around inside was quite different from the sensation of penile stimulation. At the same time, he gently stroked my clitoris with his fingertips. (I think if you're stroking your G-spot, you should always dip your fingers in saliva or vaginal fluid, otherwise it will only hurt and you won't get pleasure.) It felt incredibly good, and my vagina started to contract automatically, which was a sign that I was about to orgasm.
He quickly let go of me, pulled me into his arms, and gently stroked my breasts. My breasts are very sensitive, and I like to stroke them when I masturbate. He gently calmed me down. Suddenly, he noticed a plate of plums nearby and said, "Let your vagina eat a plum for me." I was a little shy, but he said it was nothing, so I agreed. He dangled a washed plum around my vagina for a while, then rubbed it against my G-spot. He then placed it at the vaginal opening and rolled it back and forth like he was teasing me, which only made me want it to go inside. Knowing I wanted it, he forcefully shoved it into my vagina. The plum went in easily, and I felt something round and bulging inside. He told me to contract, and with a gentle contraction, the plum reached deep inside. Feeling excited and curious, I couldn't help but push it out again, squeezing it to the opening and then contracting it back in. The plum was moving up and down inside, round and firm. Slippery, slippery, the friction and squeezing of the tender flesh inside my vagina felt fun and pleasurable. After a while, I contracted my vagina, and it came out effortlessly. He picked it up and laughed, saying I was really good at it. Then he put the plum in my mouth, wanting me to eat it. I immediately smelled the faint fishy smell from my vagina on it and quickly smiled and turned my head away, still a little shy. Now, if he really wanted me to eat it, I would definitely do so. (I've always felt that sex is a clean thing, as long as both people are healthy and clean. Reproductive organs are also the most beautiful gift the Creator has given us; they are beautiful.)
He then put the plum back in my mouth and pounced on me, inserting his big penis. His penis, pressing against the plum, pushed it deep into my vagina. His penis vibrated all the way in, the vibration of the plum was incredibly stimulating. Combined with the powerful thrusts, it was breathtaking. I responded to him, writhing vigorously, and soon we both reached our climax.

After writing this chapter yesterday, I've been thinking about what to write next. I asked a friend what he wanted to read, and he asked if I had any more outdoor experiences. After thinking about it, today I'll tell you the story of how my husband and I made love in the stream in our hometown many years ago.
Before I get to that, I remembered what my husband told me about him and his ex-girlfriend making love in the grass. At that time, his girlfriend was working in a small town in Guangzhou, and he went to visit her. They went to a mountain together, and he said the grass on that mountain was taller than a person, so people inside couldn't see each other at all. They quickly rolled into the grass. He didn't tell me the specific details, but in my memory, it was like watching "Red Sorghum"—I only saw the wind blowing, the grass undulating, a scene of spring in the grass, and two naked bodies moving and thrusting. I've always thought that scene was classic. It was beautiful, but he told me a detail later: he said that after they finished, he urinated inside her vagina.
Let's talk about us. It's a long time ago, and I've forgotten many of the details. I only remember it was a summer evening in my hometown. My family was against our relationship. Although I lived alone, I was afraid they would see me out. So, we waited until after midnight before sneaking out. Naturally, we went to a secluded spot. We sat on a small stone bridge in the town for a while, watching the clear river reflecting the moonlight. He kept saying it was hot and wanted to go swimming, asking me to come too. I was too scared because I couldn't swim, and also because of the rumors about water ghosts. Legend has it that he said I wasn't afraid, and half-carried, half-lifted me down the stone steps along the riverbank. There were stone steps for washing clothes that extended into the water. He went down first, then carried me in. As soon as I touched the water, I screamed. That day I was wearing a green, flowing pinafore dress and a white shirt. The hem of the dress floated in the water, becoming heavy, as if someone was pulling me down. All the legends about water ghosts came back to life. I clung tightly to his neck, begging him to take me up quickly. He held my waist, kissed my face, and kept telling me not to be afraid, not to be afraid, that he was holding me. He said, "Try it, stand up, the water isn't deep." With great difficulty, I mustered my courage, gripped his back tightly, and put my feet in. The water was indeed shallow; my feet touched the stone slabs lightly. My dress floated on the surface like a flower.
Because of the buoyancy, I felt light and airy, my feet always seeming to float upwards. He said, "I'll teach you the breaststroke. Use your hands to glide to the sides and your legs to kick to the sides." He grabbed my waist and stood between my legs. I tried to slide to the sides, but I was clumsy, and my legs just wouldn't move. He held me tighter, and I realized his penis was already hard. Suddenly, he pulled down my underwear and threw it on the shore. Ignoring my protests, he grabbed my waist with one arm. Startled, I instinctively pulled my legs over and clamped them around his. With his other hand, he pulled his penis out of his large cotton underwear, quickly and accurately finding the right spot, and thrust it in. A cool stream of water flowed into my warm vagina. My body instinctively contracted, and my head, which had been tilted back, fell into the water. Water filled my nose and mouth. I coughed repeatedly, and he quickly grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me up. But I still didn't dare let go of him, keeping my legs tightly clamped around him, looking quite disheveled. But he still didn't let go, holding me a little tighter and making me put my legs down. I reluctantly let go of my legs and immediately felt the buoyancy of the water. I felt lightheaded and couldn't exert any strength. No matter how he moved behind me, I could only let him move. He seemed to hold me effortlessly, but at the same time, when he entered, he seemed to lack strength. I couldn't feel the impact of that physical struggle. I could only feel the water going in and out of my vagina along his penis, up and down. As soon as he pulled out, the water gushed out, and as soon as he entered, the water immediately went in. I always felt that this position was not very useful.
He probably thought so too, and pulled me to face him again. Since my feet couldn't touch the ground, my legs naturally parted and clamped around his. One advantage of making love in the water is that changing positions is effortless; it's done so lightly and easily. This put me in the same position as when we make love standing up, but he must have found it less strenuous than when we were standing and holding each other. By this time, my skirt was already soaked, and he lifted it up, tightly wrapping it around my upper body, leaving my lower body completely naked. He put his penis inside again, trying to move it vigorously, but he couldn't get it to work. I tried to rub my G-spot against him, but it felt like I was being lifted up by the water; there was no real, fleshy feeling, and it didn't feel very pleasurable. After a few thrusts, we gave up on making love and instead held each other tightly in the moonlight in the water, kissing passionately. That felt much better. Then, hand in hand, we walked through the quiet streets back to our little house where we secretly lived together.
I was worried later that the river water might be dirty, but luckily the town was so simple and clean that nothing happened to me. However, one of my girlfriends wasn't so lucky; she contracted an STD from swimming in the pool, haha.
(While writing this, I specifically called my husband to verify some details. I also read some of what I had written to him, and unexpectedly, we both got excited and made love beautifully. I never imagined that phone sex would become a major part of my sex life. After the climax, I'm sitting here typing this; it feels a bit strange, but also a bit good.)

I've got so many wonderful memories to share with everyone today. Thinking and thinking, my thoughts suddenly drifted back to a night six years ago. I was still in school then, my boyfriend, now my husband, was in our hometown, and I was in another place. We usually saw each other once a month. That time, some things had delayed me from going home for a long time. It was a Saturday night, and coincidentally, none of my roommates were there; I was alone.
That day, I was a bit upset. It all started with one of my friends. She had a boyfriend at school, and I don't know if it was because they were still in the early stages of a relationship or what, but every few days the guy would sneak into our dorm room. Back then, everyone had a curtain over their bed, but this girl's was a thick, floral cotton curtain. When she pulled it up, it was like entering another world, and we couldn't see anything from the outside. Well, that's how they ended up using that as their wedding bed. They'd always squeeze onto that tiny bed and swing back and forth. Unfortunately, we lived in the biggest dorm room in the school at the time, which was quite empty. All our beds were lined up in a V-shape. That day, they ignored the fact that there were other people in the dorm during the day and went in to make love. The bed started swaying, and when it swayed, all the other beds started swaying too. We were used to it by now, but that day I was taking a nap when they woke me up. I was furious and sat up to yell at them, but as soon as I sat up (I slept on the top bunk, she was on the bottom), I saw through the gap in the curtain that their blankets had slipped down to their feet. They were naked and entwined together, the guy sticking his little butt out and vigorously working on me. I was terrified and didn't dare make a sound. I obediently lay back down, letting my bed, like a small boat in a storm, endure the wind and rain. I swayed along with them, my heart racing, and the memory still makes me chuckle.
That night, they all agreed not to come back, so I happily ate snacks, listened to music, and read novels alone in the empty dorm room. When I'd had my fill and it was almost time to turn off the lights, I quickly climbed into bed, found the red candles I'd bought earlier, lit them, and continued my late-night novel-reading spree.
That day, I was reading a popular romance novel from the novel stalls at the time, and I was completely engrossed. It contained subtle sexual descriptions, just the right amount, sparking the imagination. As I read, my thoughts drifted back to the two naked bodies I'd seen during the day, making me feel a surge of desire. It was summer, and I was wearing a rather conservative nightgown. Then I thought that no one was around, so I took it off and lay naked in my curtains, wearing only a bra and panties. I continued reading a novel, but I didn't even know what I was reading anymore. I stopped and stared blankly at the red candlelight. By then, I had already learned to masturbate. Whenever I wanted to, I would use everything around me without hesitation. I gently slipped my hand inside my bra and pulled out my nipple, letting the bra's two sides lift it high and make it stand erect (my nipples have never been inverted; my husband says it's because he kisses them well, and I think it's partly due to how I caress them myself). I dipped my middle finger in saliva and gently stroked it; it quickly became erect. I was intoxicated. I then pinched and squeezed it with my thumb and middle finger, making it feel a little painful and itchy, but the pleasure wasn't intense enough. Suddenly, I thought of the red candle beside my pillow. I held it up and saw the melted red wax inside shimmering and glistening in the candlelight. I had an urge to kiss it. I licked it with my tongue, sucked on it, and then, without hesitation, turned the candle upside down and dripped the wax onto my nipples. The wax was hot on my breasts, and I couldn't help but moan. But it only fueled my desire. I dripped a second drop, this time onto my nipples. Wow, it was so exciting, but really hot, yet so pleasurable. I frantically turned the candle upside down, the flames licking high, burning out wax that dripped onto my breasts and nipples. My breasts were red from the wax, and the burned areas were also red, making the white areas look even whiter and the red areas even redder.
I took a small mirror and looked at my naked breasts in the mirror. It was so lewd and made me even more intoxicated. I pulled down my underwear, holding the mirror in one hand and moving it down, while the other hand held a candle and continued to drip it down, over my chest and lower abdomen. I sat up, put down the mirror, and used one hand to stroke my thigh, pinching it hard. My whole body ached, and each pinch made it hurt more. Then I dripped more candle wax onto my thigh, slowly moving towards the inside of my thigh, dripping it everywhere. Finally, I reached the root of my thigh. I placed the mirror between my legs, parted my labia with one hand, and dripped the candle wax inside. I didn't feel much pain, partly because my whole body ached, and partly because the temperature inside was higher. I then accurately dripped the wax onto my clitoris while looking in the mirror. Even though I had already dripped a lot, I couldn't help but cry out. My whole body trembled. The feeling was indescribable. I finally couldn't hold back any longer. I slammed the candle out with my hand, frantically grabbing my breast and twisting it hard with one hand, while the other hand held the candle, rubbing it against my vulva and between my labia. Waves of pleasure washed over me. I shoved the candle inside, gripping it tightly and thrusting it repeatedly inside my vagina. The pleasure was so intense that I quickly rolled over, shoving the entire candle inside, covering my vulva with one hand while still holding my breast with the other. I vigorously shook my hips from side to side on the bed, and soon I reached orgasm. The extreme pleasure made me make a sound worse than crying.
Later, when I was washing the blankets, my classmate asked me why there was so much candle wax. I said I accidentally knocked the candle over, and it almost caught fire. As I write this, I suddenly think of Tian Zhen's song, which says, "A fire burned me, leaving me utterly helpless

. It's very late today. I didn't want to write anymore, because I wrote over 2,000 words during the day, but a sudden power outage wiped them all out, which is infuriating. But seeing so many people who habitually check my new articles only to be disappointed, and feeling the care from those I love and who love me in the middle of the night, I still couldn't help but get up and write some more.
The weather today is terrible, cold and damp. Sichuan weather is always like this, foggy and oppressive. My mood is also bad, a far cry from my usual bright self, now gloomy and uncomfortable. In the past, when I was in a bad mood, I would always hug my pillow and cry my heart out, or watch pornographic films or read erotic novels to vent. Today is different. I'm sitting in front of the computer, using my words to pour out my heart, to tell everyone my past stories, to tell everyone my feelings, because..." I know that some people care about me and love me. I am happy because of your love. Because of the concern from so many people even though I'm not online today, and because of my husband's late-night greeting, I am now very happy. I am writing these words with a smile, hoping that everyone can be as happy as I am. I am happy because I am simple-minded. I always feel that there are more beautiful things in the world. Whether you are happy or unhappy, life goes on, so I try my best to find everything that can make me happy.
I remember that year, when I was in school, it was a Saturday, and I wasn't in a good mood. So I went dancing with my girlfriends at a dance hall not far from the school. It was a place we often went to, partly because it was close by, and partly because it was relatively cheap. Back then, we were all students with limited spending power, unlike the students of today that you all describe, who don't know how to earn money.
I found a dimly lit spot to sit down. I didn't really want to dance; I just wanted to feel my loneliness amidst the noise. Several people asked me to dance, but I refused. I sat there like a dreamy little girl, not even knowing what I was thinking. After a while, the intermission music started, and the powerful metallic sound was exhilarating. I've never liked hot dancing, but I enjoyed the atmosphere. Just as I was getting into it, I suddenly felt someone pinch my butt. I turned around angrily, but the light was dim, and I couldn't see who it was, so I remained silent. After a while, I was pinched again. I was really annoyed and whirled around. To my surprise, I saw the face of an old woman, I couldn't tell if she was in her 30s or 40s. To this day, I can still remember that face, even in the dim light, with its thick foundation and bright red, smiling lips—it was terrifying. I'm afraid I'll dream about it when I go to sleep. Actually, I've always been a rather obedient girl, a bit timid, and I didn't know who she was, so I kept quiet. Just then, the intermission ended, and the saxophone melody of "Going Home" started playing. A tall, handsome guy in a white suit came over and asked me to dance. I quickly stood up, wondering if he was gay or just thought my butt felt bouncy. He squeezed it once and then again—really!
The guy seemed nice; he had a faint scent, not perfume, but the natural aroma of masculinity. The most captivating thing about him was his clean, natural body odor—I've always thought so. But he just kept his head held high, a very standard posture, unlike the other men in the dance hall who always pulled people into their arms right away. I usually hate that kind of thing, but that day I was in a bad mood, and his behavior made me doubt my own charm. I thought to myself, "Let's see if you can handle this."
I casually pulled my hand away from his gentle grip, instead using my thumb, index finger, and middle finger to pinch his hand, like a delicate, orchid-like gesture. As I pulled away, I subtly tickled his palm with my long pinky fingernail. He didn't react. The dance hall was incredibly crowded that day, packed tightly together. We were squeezed in the middle, and every now and then, someone would jostle me, and I'd suddenly throw myself into his arms. I'd take the opportunity to press my face against his and breathe a sweet breath into his ear, but I didn't make it obvious. He, too, would often jostle me, pressing himself tightly against me. After a while, his grip tightened a little. This emboldened me. Taking advantage of another jostle, I swayed my breasts vigorously in front of him to the rhythm of the music. I was wearing a tight-fitting long dress that day, revealing my curves. He was wearing a thin shirt under his suit jacket, and we could easily feel each other's body heat. His grip tightened again, but he didn't react in any other way. I was a little annoyed, wondering what was wrong with me today. I was even more defiant. Taking advantage of being bumped again, I threw myself into his arms, my chest swaying and my buttocks wiggling wildly. He couldn't take it this time and hugged me tightly. Only then did I realize that his penis was already hard. No wonder he kept such a distance from me; he was probably afraid I would feel it. My heart was also a little intoxicated. I pressed my face against his, closed my eyes, and followed his rhythm. Because the dance hall was crowded, we weren't really dancing but just strolling around. After a while, when I opened my eyes, I saw that he had led me to a corner, the darkest place. The dance hall always turned off all the lights when playing certain dance music, and at that time, women would always scream there, arousing people's imaginations.
By this time, "Going Home" was playing for the second time. His hand gently slid down from my waist to my buttocks, his warm hand gently caressing them. Seeing that I didn't object, he hunched over and slowly lowered his hand to my thigh, actually lifting my skirt. I was a little scared and opened my eyes to look around. The light was dim, and I couldn't see anyone else, so naturally no one could see me. I was enjoying the warmth of that moment, so I didn't object. My skirt was lifted up and tucked into my waistband. His right hand was holding me, while his left hand slid up and down through my panties. It felt itchy, but also quite comfortable. I couldn't resist standing on tiptoe and licking his earlobe with the tip of my tongue. I reached down and unzipped his pants, but didn't dare put my hand inside. His hand pinched my butt hard, then pressed it tightly, holding me close and rubbing his penis against me. I stood on tiptoe to make our genitals touch more closely. I felt a little happy and couldn't help but make soft moaning sounds, but he could hear them. His hand quickly circled my back, then slipped inside my pantyhose, stroking around my panties. I felt very itchy, so I shook my butt harder, which aroused him even more. He actually put his hand inside my underwear, pinching my butt, and slowly reached forward. I got scared, afraid his hands weren't clean, and shook my butt hard, trying to get him to take his hand out. But he was even more aroused and pinched me harder. I stood on tiptoe and bit his ear hard, whispering, "Take your hand out." He understood what I meant. He reached behind me, refusing to take his hand out of his underwear, pressing his buttocks tightly against mine while rubbing his own. It felt good, so I pressed closer, sucking on his ear and moaning softly. Even through my pantyhose, I could feel his body heat and movements through his underwear. He sped up, turning very quickly. Suddenly, I felt him holding me incredibly tightly, and I stopped moving. My lower body contracted in waves—ha, he ejaculated! I secretly rejoiced. But I also felt a little regretful; it would have been so much better if he had lasted a little longer and given me his pleasure too. After he ejaculated, he seemed embarrassed, pulling me away without a kiss, giving me a deep look before letting go and leaving without even saying goodbye. It was so disappointing.

It doesn't have much background; it's just one of countless masturbation stories I've told. I can't even remember the exact year it happened, it was a long, long time ago.
That night, I was in my little room. As I mentioned before, I had been living alone for a long time without any disturbance. I couldn't remember where my husband was at the time; it seemed like he had been away from home for quite some time. That summer night, after taking a shower, I lay on the bed, feeling utterly bored, wearing only a silk slip dress. I read for a while but then got bored and picked up a book with a lot of erotic descriptions. As I read, I started to feel aroused.
I slid one of the thin straps of my sundress down to my arm, letting the low-cut lace of the dress support my breasts. I held them with one hand, and with the middle finger of my other hand, I dipped it in cool water and rubbed it on my nipples. The contrast between the heat of my breasts and the cold water made my nipples instantly hard and erect. I lifted them up with my hand and lowered my head to lick them with my tongue. My breasts aren't very big, so it was a bit difficult to lick them. My tongue could feel the uneven little bumps on my nipples, and the nipples could feel the warmth and moisture of my tongue. It felt quite nice, but to be honest, I didn't think it felt as good as when a man licked them. After all, it was my own, and the stimulation wasn't as intense as the scent and caresses of a man. I did this while reading a novel, making soft moaning sounds. (This is something I really enjoy doing; novels can increase my arousal. Later, when I had the means, I also liked watching porn.)
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Perhaps my moans startled my cat, Xiaoxue. She jumped onto the bed and licked my face. My cat, Xiaoxue, is pure white with no stray hairs. She always likes to sleep on my bed. That day, she probably thought I was acting strangely, so she came over to see what was wrong. (I've encountered something similar before. After we got married, we got a German Shepherd. Once, when my husband and I were having sex and I was reaching orgasm, she ran over and started licking my face vigorously.) Xiaoxue's tongue is very thick; anyone who has felt it knows it has barbs on it, making it feel a bit like gritty fabric. Suddenly, an idea struck me. I remembered the honey at home (I always keep honey at home; I like to use it to make drinks and face masks). My heart started itching even more. I quickly grabbed the honey, smeared some on my finger, and held it to Xiaoxue's mouth. I didn't know if she liked it, because I'd never seen her eat anything sweet; I only knew she liked meat. To my surprise, it started licking with relish. I let it lick with one hand, while quickly applying more honey with the other, spreading it from my shoulder down to my breasts, areolas, and nipples. Then I moved the hand it was licking up my shoulder, and it followed suit, seemingly enjoying the honey. Its tongue quickly slid to my shoulder; the shoulder is much more sensitive than my hand. As soon as its tongue touched my shoulder, my body trembled violently. Its tongue continued licking down the honey, its little feet softly stepping on me, its tail gently stroking my face, ears, and neck, making me feel incredibly... Excitement.
I held back from making a sound, afraid of scaring it away, but the feeling of enduring it was both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly pleasurable. Finally, its tongue, like gauze, licked my breast. It always used the tip of its tongue to curl upwards and lick. I can't describe the sensation in more detail; I don't know how to put it into words. I can only say that its tongue was rough, itchy, and incredibly pleasurable. It licked my breast, and the tender skin felt a little sore under its tongue, but mostly itchy and exciting. Following the honey-like texture, it finally licked my nipple. The pleasure was so intense that even thinking about it now makes my heart flutter. Its tongue licked my nipple, turning it to one side, then making it stand erect again. It touched the honey-like area... After licking the honey, it started licking the middle of my nipple, gliding it roughly over it until it was finished. I quickly applied more honey, and it started licking again. The other breast it wasn't licking was also incredibly itchy. I pinched its head and pulled it towards my breast, pressing it against my nipple. It seemed reluctant, but soon discovered there was more honey and licked even harder. The most pleasurable part was when its tongue licked the tip of my nipple—the rough tongue against the tender nipple, the friction sending waves of intense, erotic pleasure through me. It licked repeatedly for a while. I stopped applying honey to my nipple, and it licked down my lower abdomen, circling there. I then... I couldn't resist either, twisting one of my nipples with my hand and reaching down to my genitals with the other. I didn't dare let it lick my genitals, afraid it would bite me or get dirty. I kneaded my breasts and clitoris with my hands, then started inserting one finger into my vagina and then both fingers in, thrusting them in and out forcefully. Xiaoxue was startled by my violent movements and quickly jumped aside. I couldn't care less about her anymore. I turned over and inserted my fingers into my vagina, cupping my entire vulva with my hand, positioning my palm against the protruding part of my vagina. I pressed my fingers down with my body and pinched my nipples, shaking them. Soon, I reached orgasm, my body covered in sticky honey.
All the stories I've written are completely true, and this one is too. If you'd like to appreciate it, perhaps you could try doing more. I'm too timid to let it lick more, hehe.

When his penis is thrusting in front, giving me excitement and pleasure, my hands are stroking, pressing, or thrusting from behind. Just thinking about it is exciting, especially when it feels good in front. My anus will unconsciously crave his caresses and thrusts. At this time, he will sense my lack of resistance and my liking, and he will take the opportunity to pull out his penis and try to insert it from behind. But at this time, his penis is always too big, it's impossible. No matter how much his fingers make it feel good from behind, it still can't accept such a big penis. Later, he would always pull it out and knead it first. I don't know how he did it, but soon his penis would become smaller. But often, no matter how hard he tried, only a little bit of the glans could go in, and all my pleasure would disappear, leaving only pain. I tried this many times but it didn't work.
But one time, we were both at home in the afternoon, curled up on the sofa watching porn. Of course, he wasn't entirely honest; while watching, he would slip his hand inside my clothes and caress me. This was a kind of enjoyment I really liked. When I first started watching porn, I would get excited very easily and finish in no time. But after watching more, I would appreciate it with a more casual attitude, letting the flame in my heart burn little by little. With his gentle caresses and arousal, it was truly beautiful and enjoyable. Gradually, we both took off our clothes. I knelt on the floor between his legs and kissed his penis for a while. Then I lay on the sofa and let him stand and feed me with his penis, thrusting in and out of my mouth. He was very excited and kissed my whole body in return—my breasts, my vagina, my G-spot, my anus. At the height of my excitement, he inserted his penis into me. That day, everyone was in high spirits and full of energy. There were no disturbances, and we didn't even close the curtains. There was also a thrill of being watched. The timing, location, and circumstances were all perfect, and we were both very wild. I went along with him, changing positions in various ways—standing, sitting, kneeling, lying down, crawling, even upside down. I was also very wild, only knowing that he should thrust into me hard to make me happy. I don't know how it happened, but one time he was holding me while sitting on the sofa, and I was facing away from him... Sitting on his lap, I stood with my toes on the ground. He held my waist, moving me up and down. I exerted my own strength, and suddenly he slid out and thrust his penis all the way in. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. Although it felt a little swollen, I didn't dislike it. I let him move in and out as he pleased. After a while, I got used to it. It felt a little dry inside, so he pulled it out, applied some vaginal fluid, and then thrust it back in. It became very lubricated, and the thrusting wasn't uncomfortable anymore. Gradually, it became comfortable, and I couldn't help but wriggle. We switched positions so I was facing him, my breasts pressing against his chest. I closed my eyes, gripping his shoulders tightly, and tried to sit up and down. However, this position wasn't very comfortable for me. Later, we switched positions so I was lying on my back on the sofa, his penis... He inserted it into my anus, and I lay prone between his legs. This way, he could thrust in and out a few times while moving, rubbing my G-spot. Soon, I became more and more excited, and I climaxed. That kind of pleasure swept through my whole body. I felt my vagina contracting while my anus was also contracting continuously. It was a kind of intense pleasure, just like before, so strong that it made me want to cry. Because of the same vaginal contractions, I felt the climax coming from the front one moment and then from the back the next. It was very intense. (How can I describe it? It's hard to explain. It was truly ecstasy. Even if you tried to explain it, it would be difficult for anyone to understand.) I think my face must have been contorted at that moment. I screamed loudly, with a sob in my voice, thanking my husband. That kind of beauty was intoxicating.

My husband called that the most enjoyable time we'd ever had, and it's still fresh in my memory. But later, when I tried anal sex, I often cried out in pain. Later, I realized it was because I wasn't fully engaged. I was thinking more about myself during sex and couldn't let go, so naturally, it didn't work.
Even now, we don't necessarily have to use anal sex during sex; it's not like the front where you can freely enter and exit. However, I've gradually come to like this method. I can derive pleasure from it, and it also gives my husband more enjoyment.
Later, after he bought me some vibrators, we explored even more different techniques. He once bought me one of those pink vibrating dildos, one big and one small, that you often see in Japanese films, powered by dry cell batteries. The little thing felt really special; my husband often used it to vibrate my nipples and G-spot. In the third picture, the pink thing in the background is that little thing.
I want to tell those who want to try it that generally, as long as you have enough lubricant (you can use Johnson's or lubricant from a sex shop) to coat your penis and anus and give appropriate caresses (of course, your partner shouldn't have any psychological burden), generally there shouldn't be any major problems with penetration. As for the women reading my article, I really don't need to think there's anything wrong with it. As long as you're willing to appreciate it, you'll find a lot of pleasure. Furthermore, modern sexology has long considered anal sex a normal sexual behavior. You don't need to have too much psychological burden.
Speaking of this, I've received many messages from friends saying I'm crazy. I asked one friend why he thought it was crazy when I only talked about happiness, and he said it was because he was afraid of hurting his body. I think many friends probably have the same question. But over the years, I've never hurt myself because of sex, and I almost never have gynecological problems. Even if I had, it was just a mild urinary tract infection that was cured with two sulfadiazine pills. I just had a gynecological checkup a couple of days ago, and everything was fine. Over the years, I've always felt that maintaining a good figure and being happy are inseparable from sex. I've been in
a bad mood these past few days. After I wrote this yesterday, a friend told me that reading it made him feel nauseous, which made me feel even worse because he's my dearest friend. I'm starting to doubt what I'm doing, whether I've done something wrong, whether I've gone too far. I'm just an ordinary woman, working, doing housework, and having fun every day, just like thousands of other women you've met. I experience joy and sorrow. I'm nothing special. If you feel anything different, it's only because of these words. Because he's often away from home, and I tend to isolate myself and don't like going out, I've chosen to write online to find some relief. I desperately need warmth. Please don't scold me or laugh at me; I'm just a lonely little woman. When I feel helpless, I always cry alone, just like how I feel right now.
If reading my article today disappoints you, I'm very sorry. Influenced by that friend yesterday, I really can't write any specific details today. Maybe I'll add them in this chapter later. It's been many days since I've written anything
.
These past few days, I've been in a bad mood because of some troubles, but finally, things have taken a turn for the better, and I've regained my interest in writing. I remember when I was about to give up, I kept encouraging myself. Like I told a friend, I kept singing Liu Huan's song in my heart: "No matter how bitter or tiring, be strong, for those expectant eyes. If the heart is there, the dream is there. ===Look at success or failure, life is heroic." I know my life will inevitably involve much more hardship, but I keep telling myself: Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, just persevere, persevere, and persevere again. Hehe, let me add a horizontal inscription: I love my family . Okay,
enough rambling, let's get to the point.
Honestly, I'm increasingly unsure what to write. Although I have many stories about sex, I feel they all sound too vague. Sex has many differences, but its essence remains the same. The differences are only in the process; everything remains the same.
For example, masturbation.
I can't remember when I learned to masturbate, at least long after I had a sex life, but one thing I remember clearly is that after learning to masturbate, I experienced a lot of sexual pleasure. Someone once said that women who don't masturbate rarely experience orgasms, while women who do masturbate almost always do. I agree with this statement. A woman who masturbates knows what she wants; her instincts guide her to achieve pleasure. Therefore, during sex, she will easily cooperate with her man to obtain what she needs. Women shouldn't feel ashamed of masturbation. From my understanding, I think most men, except for those with very conservative views who oppose female masturbation, enjoy it. My husband, for example, likes it when I masturbate in front of him; he gets immense pleasure and stimulation from it.
He bought me several vibrators, big and small, some worn, each with its own unique scent. Most of these things stimulate through vibration, and we often use them during sex. This also gives him a lot of pleasure. For example, when his penis is inserted in front or behind me, the vibrator vibrates his penis. Through the thin membrane between my anus and penis, all the sensations become strange and exciting. I like that feeling, but these things are all of poor quality; they break after a short time and I can't find anywhere to repair them. But then again, no matter how good a fake is, it can't compare to the real thing in terms of substance and texture.
When he's not home, I often masturbate and have sex over the phone. Actually, phone sex is also masturbation, except you have another person doing it with you and can hear their excited voice. A good phone partner can guide you perfectly in imagining, feeling, and capturing pleasure.
A friend I'll never forget: a man who was incredibly good at guiding people. His voice was magical; I often lost myself in it, as if in a dream. I remember once his voice was soft and melodious in my ear, and I was so captivated that I froze, my body motionless. I don't know which nerve was working, but my ears twitched with pleasure at his breath. My body was still, yet a surge of warm blood, carrying desire, coursed through me, awakening my primal wildness. A kind of pleasure flowed through me, but I truly didn't move. I felt as if I didn't know where I was, or what I was doing. I could feel half of my body stiff, with a tingling sensation. I only felt that pleasure, pure bliss. Although it wasn't an orgasm, it was an excitement comparable to one. A combination of sexual excitement and a sense of spiritual emptiness—that feeling was so magical; I've only experienced it once in all this time.
More often than not, I would masturbate guided by his voice. I've used many masturbation aids; in my words, I'd use whatever was around me that I could find, like apples, small spoons, cups, candles, pens, stirring sticks, and the strangest of all—the kind of cotton swabs women use for makeup and men for cleaning their ears.

These little things always brought me extra pleasure. Sex requires imagination, it requires a free and unrestrained mind; it only rewards you with pleasure when you have a positive feeling about it.
Although masturbating alone can be quite frustrating, it also has its advantages. Just like many men don't want to give up masturbation after marriage, I sometimes enjoy the pleasure of being alone when my husband is around. He would also watch porn and masturbate in front of me when I was tired. I just needed to lie lazily on his lap, occasionally kiss him, or let him caress my soft body. He would use his hand to masturbate, and when passionate, he would ejaculate into my mouth. He also liked to hold my hand and let me touch my clitoris, use a vibrator, and lick my nipples. His gaze made me a little shy, but also excited.
Yesterday I talked about the little gadgets I'd used; today I'll tell you about them one by one.
For example, the Apple product—that was not long ago, on a similar afternoon sitting in front of the computer, browsing selfies and articles on a dating website. Those things really stirred my imagination, and my passion gradually ignited.
I took off my coat and, while looking around, slipped my hand under my sweater, scratching my breasts with my nails and stroking them with my fingers. My blood was gradually warming up. I squeezed them and swayed my body, but my lower body felt empty, yearning for something to be inserted. I looked around and saw an apple and an orange in the fruit basket on my computer desk. I picked it up and bit off a small piece, quickly trimming it into a cylinder with my teeth—not too round, of course, with some protrusion. Then I pulled down my pants and placed them on my vulva, stroking them. The cool, moist apple rubbed against my clitoris, feeling cool and incredibly comfortable. I gently slid it along the inside of my thighs, slowly savoring the sensation.
But just stimulating my nipples wasn't enough. I pulled up my sweater, leaving only a shirt, and pulled down my bra to support my nipples. I stood up, slightly hunched over, and rubbed my nipples back and forth and up and down on the computer screen. My nipples swayed back and forth on the cool screen, dancing on it, sometimes shrinking in and sometimes standing up. I felt a kind of electric shock. The feeling on the screen frame was much more realistic, without that electromagnetic sensation. It was really exciting.
I sat down and inserted the apple into my anus. The tender flesh inside immediately and greedily enveloped it, but it was too small. With each contraction, it slipped deep inside, leaving an emptiness that yearned for further penetration. I quickly bit off two more pieces of apple and inserted them one by one. I contracted my vagina and felt the uneven object inside, causing friction. I pulled up my underwear, found a bun-shaped pillow, placed it on the chair, and sat on it like a horse, rocking my body back and forth. The apple was inside, gripped tightly, but I still didn't feel the fullness and satisfaction I felt when a man was thrusting into me. Then I stuffed the toilet paper roll next to me into my outer pants and outside my underwear, right between my legs, and squeezed it tightly between them, rubbing and shaking it. I sat down, grabbing and kneading my nipple with one hand. The orgasm came quickly; my whole body contracted and tightened. The apple inside felt so good! After the orgasm, I smelled my vaginal fluid; it smelled wonderful, full of apple scent. So, in a forum, I once replied to a post about what a woman's vagina smells like. If you think your vagina smells bad, you can rub it repeatedly with your favorite fruit or even apply fruit juice. But remember to apply it inside as well, otherwise there will still be a smell.
There was also a little incident: later, my toilet paper roll completely fell apart, automatically separating at the seams.
I originally intended to talk about all those cute little things one by one, but I ended up talking for so long just about one. I wonder if I should be more concise. I'd like to hear everyone's opinions. To be continued tomorrow.
Also, my writing skills are limited; my writing is too plain and may lack brilliance, but that's all I can do. I apologize to those friends who hope for more exciting content.

In the blink of an eye, spring has arrived. I remember when I first arrived at the coastline, it was still winter, and I came and went quietly. Now, so many friends care about me and wait for me; it truly feels like the warmth of spring. Thank you all for your concern. Although some people look at me with less-than-friendly eyes, and some comments hurt and anger me, I know that most friends still like me, so I'm still willing to share my story with everyone. Let a woman's happiness and feelings be expressed in this way.
During the Spring Festival, I finally saw my long-lost husband. Spending the New Year in his unfamiliar city filled me with a sense of novelty and inexplicable excitement. I wonder if anyone else feels this way—in a relatively safe but unfamiliar environment, one's desires tend to be stronger. That's how it was for me.
I remember the day I first arrived at my husband's place. After showering, we couldn't wait to embrace naked. My soft body knelt on the wooden floor in front of him, and I kissed every inch of his skin carefully. I did everything from ice and fire to breast play. Finally, he erupted like a volcano, straddling me and making me crawl on all fours like a puppy from one end of the room to the other. He bent over slightly, and his penis pounded against me from behind with powerful strokes like a whip, reaching the very bottom. When I climbed to the window, he pulled me up to stand, opened the curtains a little, and opened the window a little. My God, he grabbed my waist from behind and thrust into me even harder. My hands were on the window frame, my buttocks were sticking up high, and I could see the bustling street outside and the tall buildings across the street. I was both excited and scared, and I bit my teeth, not daring to scream. But he saw that I didn't react, so he grabbed my breasts with both hands and pinched my nipples hard. He thrust hard, and I screamed and couldn't help but shout at the street. He pulled me back and closed the curtains. Standing there, he moved me from the floor to the bed.
He lay down, bending his legs high. It's a little embarrassing to admit, but I suddenly developed a new fetish: I love licking his anus. I really love it. The flesh there is so tender. Just like my husband and I said, I finally know which part of a person's body is the most tender. Licking it excites me. I slowly lick the folds around it with my tongue. It doesn't have a particularly special taste, but when my tongue goes a little deeper, it tastes slightly bitter. But I like it because I see how much he enjoys me kissing him. My husband is a man who doesn't moan during sex. Aside from swearing a bit, he usually doesn't make any groaning sounds. But he does when I kiss his anus, which excites me even more. I lick the area between his hairy legs and around his hairy anus with the tip of my tongue (of course, he always washes it very clean). Over the years, because he enjoys my kisses, my husband has always been very hygienic. He always washes his penis very thoroughly before making love. This has many advantages. One is that it doesn't bother me when I kiss him, and more importantly, I don't have many of the gynecological problems that women often have. I tried hard to stick my tongue in, but it was always too tight. I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them, then licked them with my tongue and stroked them with my saliva-covered fingers, gently kneading them. I wanted to stick it in, but my husband always refused, saying it hurt. But I often smiled to myself, thinking that one day I would train him to like me sticking my tongue in, just like he trained me. Hehe, I love the 69 position the most. When my husband kisses me, when his delicate, warm tongue licks my clitoris and enters my vagina, I can't help but cry out loud. We explored every position we could that day, from simple back-to-back sex and doggy style to more challenging ones like me doing a handstand with my legs raised high and bent over while he held my waist. It was all so enjoyable and satisfying.

This story originated from an erotic novel I read and recommended it to my husband. At the time, I just thought it was interesting, but I didn't expect him to remember it. This time, when we were traveling, I didn't have any reservations and put it into practice. I hope you won't find it absurd. Actually, I think it's a bit ridiculous myself, and I imagine you'll think so even more.
I used to have a purple vibrator, shaped like a butterfly, with two transparent wings, a rounded beak and tail. A small penis protrusion extended from the butterfly's body; it felt very soft, almost like skin. Almost all vibrators feel like that. It also had two straps, the kind you wear on your body, like the one I wore in the previous photo. When worn, the penis was inserted, the beak was perfectly positioned at the G-spot, and the tail was perfectly positioned at the anus (of course, every woman is different, but the ones I bought all fit perfectly). It felt amazing when it vibrated; I loved playing with it. Unfortunately, these things always break quickly; the quality isn't guaranteed. It broke after a short time, and without the vibration function, it was practically useless. I told my husband to take it to be repaired, but he said the shopkeeper would just say, "Who told you to use so many?" So, I had to give up. I had heard that there were many sex shops like this in his city, and before going, I told him I would definitely go and see for myself.
That night, we walked hand in hand down the street, my face flushed, as if we were going on a date. Looking around, wow, everywhere I looked were signs with the word "sex" emblazoned on them. The shops weren't as discreet as I'd imagined; they openly displayed all sorts of sex dolls, visible from afar. Entering the shop, I gripped his hand tightly, feeling embarrassed. Some of the dolls were thick, some thin, some oddly shaped. I'd seen plenty of female dolls, so they weren't surprising, but the male ones particularly intrigued me. Those inflatable dolls with tiny open mouths, sparsely haired vulvas, and a small, dark hole inside—they really made me want to stick my finger in and try it out.
I blushed and secretly looked at them, not... I had no nerve to say that. We saw a butterfly-shaped item and asked the price, and it was a whopping 200 yuan! That's outrageous! I got angry and dragged him out to several other shops, but we didn't see anything special, just the same old stuff. Finally, we went to the last shop, run by a woman. That's when I got excited and wasn't so embarrassed anymore. I started picking and choosing. I immediately spotted a small thing for anus, and then my husband insisted on buying me a blue butterfly—the one in the picture—and a small plastic enema kit. That shopkeeper was also ripping me off; she wanted 180 yuan for the butterfly. I said we'd only paid 50 yuan for the one we bought before. She looked at me strangely, and I was too embarrassed to say anything. In the end, we bought all three for 100 yuan.
My experience is that you must bargain with the shop owner. Don't be shy. Shop owners always try to make money off you even if they feel embarrassed to do so. Also, make sure to let them test the product for you to see if it has all the necessary functions. It would be a waste if you bought it and didn't use it. (There were also those little purplish-red rings that cost a few dollars that men could wear under the glans of their penis, with soft little barbs on them. We bought them for the first time. When my husband wore them, his glans would be squeezed out quite a bit, and it felt very comfortable and stimulating inside me. But the downside was that they kept falling off, and they would fall off quite deeply. There was also something like a condom that could be worn as a whole piece on the penis, covered in little barbs, but we didn't buy it. I just thought it was a bit interesting because it could also serve as a contraceptive. I don't need it, but I'd recommend it to my friends.)
When we got home, we washed it with soapy water and scalded it with boiling water. Of course, we were going to have some fun, but I don't want to write this chapter anymore because my husband came up with an idea. He said that since we could wear the butterfly on our bodies anyway, and no one could tell when we were dressed, why not wear it out for a stroll? My heart was racing. I thought and thought, not sure if I should or shouldn't. What should I do? Haha, stay tuned for the next installment.

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