A deep kiss I dared not hope for

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A Deep Kiss I Dared Not Hope For
"It's nothing... I'm leaving you tomorrow... I'm a little reluctant..." I answered slowly
.
"Are you worried about me?"
She put her hands behind her back, walked over, and looked at me.
"Yes..."
I knew this was my last chance; I couldn't let it slip away.
So I walked away from her, heading alone towards the riverbank railing. As I walked, I slowly
voiced my worries.
After speaking, I turned to look at her.
"Can...you...wait...for...me...for...two...years...?"
I finished each word slowly and deliberately.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
After hearing this, she trembled slightly as if suddenly struck by a blow . Then,
without saying a word, she walked to me with earnest and determined steps, reached out and wrapped her arms around
my neck. Under the dim streetlights, ignoring the stares of passersby, she gave me a deep kiss I hadn't dared to hope for even in college
.
Then she nestled in my arms, trembling, her voice choked with sobs: "
Don't you believe me at all? I don't know how to express my love for you anymore..."
She looked up at me, genuine, glistening tears rolling down her cheeks, a sight that evoked
pity.
I wiped away her tears with my fingers, and then we hugged tightly again. "I know
, darling..."
Life in the military was like a desert, but I had her as my oasis.
Heaven blessed our love, and we finally made it through the military, able to
be together again.
I didn't dare slack off; I immediately looked for a job. Although the process wasn't entirely smooth, I
eventually became an office worker.
Once I had a job, some financial stability, and could somewhat match her income, I began
my second step—marriage planning.
After I started working, whenever I had a day off, I would always go to her house and be with her. When I got paid, I would buy
her gifts, write her letters, send her flowers, request songs for her, and so on.
Because I got along well with her family, they were very welcoming to this "outsider,"
especially her five-year-old cousin, who would often ask me when his older sister was going to marry her older brother, which
would make her blush.
Her parents would also frequently hint that she was of marriageable age and that it would be better to decide sooner rather than later
.
It wasn't that I hadn't brought it up, but she always brushed me off with "Let's wait a while longer."
Finally
, a year and a half after I started working, after what felt like the umpteenth time I proposed, she agreed to
marry me. That day was the same day I first met her in the dormitory.
I was surprised by this deliberately orchestrated coincidence and realized how much she cherished
the day we first met. So, we chose to get married on the same day we had gone camping eight years earlier.
The night before our wedding, my best friend's words kept echoing in my mind,
and all the anxieties I had deliberately ignored for years because of our sweet love resurfaced.
Although I had prepared myself mentally, I couldn't shake this sense of imperfection
.
Even though I often visited her, and we talked about everything under the sun, from basic vocabulary to grammar
, I never asked her about her past relationships. I didn't know if she had ever
had a boyfriend before, and several times I impulsively wanted to ask her directly if she was a virgin. Even on
the eve of our wedding, after our last meeting and a passionate kiss under the moonlight, I almost
asked her that question as we said our goodbyes.
Although years of self-hypnosis in this area might have lost its effect
, I ultimately had to admit that traditional male chauvinism still lingered in my heart.
I even dreamt once that she was with another man, and I felt lost and confused all day
.
Besides, I love her very much now, I can't live without her, and I don't want to hurt her.
If this hadn't happened to her, she might at most laugh at my pettiness, but what if she
had? Then there would inevitably be some kind of rift and generation gap between us, and we would never be able
to face each other honestly.
So I never took this gamble.
Lying in bed, tossing and turning, I finally came to a conclusion: "Forget it, what I want
is for her to love me wholeheartedly now, and to take care of me wholeheartedly after marriage. I don't care if she's a virgin, I don't care about
her past..."
I said to myself as I lay in bed.
"...It would be a lie to say I don't care at all..."
My thoughts shifted.
"...Ah...Don't think about such pointless things anymore..."
I covered my head with the pillow and scolded myself harshly.
Yet, an inexplicable sense of loss lingered in my heart, refusing to leave.
I knew I still had some regrets!
On our wedding night, I picked her up from the bathroom door after she had showered and carried her to bed
.
Under the dim light of the artistic lamp, I gazed at her; her cheeks were still flushed, but she
was now my wife. She wouldn't run away, and I wouldn't let her slip from my arms.
I kissed her cheek, cupped her pretty face in my hands, and said, "Eight years ago, I really
never imagined you would be my future wife. Back then, I was just playing around
."
I leaned forward and kissed her lips.
My hand slipped inside her bathrobe, gliding over her abdomen and lingering on her chest.
She shifted uncomfortably, saying coquettishly, "So, you're just playing around now too
?"
I squeezed her breasts; they were so soft, so tender, so smooth, much fuller than eight years ago.
"Yeah!" I joked, my left hand sliding down to her buttocks.
"What!" Her almond-shaped eyes widened.
I sealed her lips with mine again, wrapped my arms around her waist, and rolled her around on the bed, my tongue
plunging into her mouth, sucking her saliva. Then I said to her, "Aren't I going to play with you 'now'
?"
"Okay! You're so naughty!" she laughed softly.
"Then let's do it again!" I said.
My right hand caressed her nipples, while my left hand pulled off her bathrobe.
Her figure was well-proportioned, her breasts perfectly shaped with two pink nipples, the fiery red
areolas seeming eager for me to lick and suck them.
I held her fair legs, but she slightly lifted them to cover herself, seemingly embarrassed
to be seen.
The tuft of dark pubic hair had grown quite a bit in the past eight years, and within that darkness was her moist
genitals, and my lower body gradually hardened.
The feeling of caressing that place eight years ago resurfaced in my mind. I wondered if it was still slightly damp.
I reached out and stroked her with my fingers.
She trembled slightly, her breath quickening a little as she said, "This action has affected me
for eight years."
I responded, "Darling, I frightened you eight years ago..."
Then my fingers caressed her there more gently, slowly, gradually becoming wet.
With each caress, she trembled slightly, gazing at me affectionately, a bitter smile on her face
. I gently bit her earlobe, "...I'm sorry..."
Then I buried my head in her chest, feeling her trembling with my cheek, inhaling
her fragrance with my nose, and sucking on her nipples with my lips and tongue, completely intoxicated by this
enchanting scene.
I pressed against her breasts, somewhat flustered, and took off my clothes.
Then I propped myself up with my hands, and we gazed at each other.
At this moment, her delicate face was flushed with a rosy blush, making her even more alluring.
Having seen her in her youth and having caressed her as a young girl, I found
her mature charm even more captivating, driving me wild and infatuated.
More importantly, we could now be together legitimately. For someone who had pursued her for years
, this precious first night was all the more precious, for it was hard-won!
We intertwined our fingers, lifted her arms, and pressed them against the pillow,
our palms pressed against the bed.
She cooperated by spreading her legs, positioning me between them, then shifting her body
so that my penis could easily enter her vagina with a slight push.
We maintained this position for a while.
During this time, we silently waited for each other.
My eyes must have been filled with burning desire, making her unable to look me directly in the eye; occasionally, our eyes would meet
, and she would blush shyly.
The stillness of that moment seemed to be a request for permission to enter her. I waited patiently for
her to prepare herself. After all, she was mine now, and there was no need to rush
. I told myself this. A moment
later, the accidental touch of my glans to her labia intensified her trembling, and my penis
became hot with stimulation.
The moment of intercourse finally arrived. As if knowing that what had to be done had to be done, she nodded slightly
, indicating that I could enter her. Then she closed her eyes, pressed her lips tightly together, and took a deep breath
, her voice soft but tinged with nervousness.
Now it was my turn to tremble; I didn't dare to enter her immediately.
I closed my eyes, recalling the methods on the videotape, and with a mixture of excitement and nervousness,
I slowly thrust my hips forward, breaking through that thin membrane. Only when I entered her soft, warm, and moist
vagina did the weight lift from my heart.
For eight years, she, who had haunted my dreams, was still perfect.
These days, she has been my fantasy partner when I masturbate.
In my fantasy, we roll around making love under a star-studded night sky, the faint starlight
illuminating her soft breasts. Our breaths linger on the quiet grass as we intertwine.
After our climax, we fall into a deep sleep, embracing each other...
I slowly thrust in and out; the vaginal walls are a little tight, yet this intensifies the pleasure in my glans. My beloved
slightly opens her mouth, letting out soft breaths. With each full insertion,
I can feel the trembling of initial discomfort from the contact between our genitals...
I fantasize about her lying naked on a large, water-soaked rock in a deserted, shallow lake. Her
breasts, raised by the rock's curves, are at my mercy, at my mercy. Her legs are spread open, at my mercy, allowing me to thrust
in and out. Finally, amidst the roar of the waterfall, I ejaculate a thousand sperm into her body,
and we both fall into the shallow pool, exhausted after the passion...
I gradually increase the speed of my thrusts... Her moans grew louder, and the hotel waterbed
swayed with our pushes and pulls, making the sound of rushing water...
I had also fantasized in the bathroom about taking a bath together, her kneeling beside me as I lay down, bending
over to suck my penis, and then, without restraint, she sitting on my erect penis, while I
grasped her breasts from behind, and we made love intensely amidst our frantic breathing, reaching
our climax when the water in the bath reached its highest point...
I gripped her hands tightly, thrusting at a rapid pace, my body almost pressed against hers
.
She breathed softly and rapidly, tiny beads of sweat glistening on her face. Her breasts, swaying back and forth, were covered
in the sweat dripping from my movements as I entered her. Her nipples
brushed against my chest like fingertips...
I had fantasized that we were already husband and wife, that I would press my lower body against
her tender buttocks as she busily prepared dinner on the kitchen counter, impatiently entering her from behind, my hands reaching out from behind to grasp...
He held her breasts, rubbing them passionately up and down. Amidst the sizzling sound of the fried fish, they both breathed heavily, enjoying the pleasure
of brother and sister rubbing together. He ejaculated as the soup overflowed from the overheated pot. Then,
naked, they ate their burnt dinner at the table...
I could feel how wet our joined bodies were. Her soft vagina stimulated my red
glans, sending a current of passion through my brain. My heart seemed
to rise with each thrust.
Opening my eyes, I looked at our joined bodies. Clear fluid flowed from her vagina,
covering her labia with my penile movements, wetting her crimson vulva, allowing my glans
to enter and exit her body with minimal friction.
This was my first time, and hers too. It was so wonderful for me; I wondered
if she felt the same way.
Time ticked by, and I began to feel tired, but my thrusting did
n't slow down. Her moans mingled with each thrust.
We were both dominated by the pleasure of intercourse.
Gradually, my consciousness began to blur, and my lower body was filled with heat, teeming with countless
sperm ready to be released. I thrust into her with all my might, while her legs wrapped tightly around my waist,
squeezing even tighter as the moment of climax approached.
The two of us, violently shaking, combined with the propulsion of the waterbed, felt like an earthquake,
or a volcanic eruption.
Finally, the final thrust arrived. I thrust my penis inside her, having neither the strength nor the time
to withdraw. Then, the world seemed to end. After we both let out our final cries, the entire earth exploded
, and all consciousness ceased to exist...
I released her hand, my exhausted body collapsing onto her, my rapid, disordered
breathing gradually returning to normal.
She opened her arms and hugged me tightly, her breaths faintly mingling with my
gasps for me not to leave her.
At that moment, I felt like the happiest person in the world.
After the waves of pleasure that followed, I extended my tongue and met hers, our tongues nimbly
touching, then we plunged our lips into each other's, passionately sucking.
I don't know how much time passed, but we remained tightly embracing, afraid to let go of the deed we had just done
.
Finally, as the heat subsided, we reluctantly separated.
She lay on her side against my chest, her right leg straddling my genitals, allowing the place where our passion had just begun to intertwine to remain
. Her long, flowing hair, damp with sweat, clung haphazardly to my chest. Her
left breast pressed against my chest, her vagina gripping my limp penis inside her.
I reached out my right hand and rested it against hers, gently pinching and caressing her right nipple with my fingers.
A moment later, she sneezed softly.
"Are you cold?" I pulled the thin blanket beside me over her shoulders.
"Honey," she asked me seductively, "do you really love me?"
"Hmm... there's only me in this world..." I replied languidly, then
kissed her disheveled hair.
She smiled contentedly.
"And you?" I countered, but she didn't answer.
"Darling, do you know why I went camping eight years ago?" she
said thoughtfully, nestled in my arms.
"Right! Why would you want to go? The intentions are so obvious... an overnight stay
... why would you go?"
Suddenly, I remembered the "ghost talk" my friends had told me by the stream eight years ago, and
a sense of unease crept into my heart, my tone hardening.
Because that's definitely not something a normal girl should go to. Could it be that her true nature isn't really that
innocent... just as Ba Zi said?
Even if she gave me her virginity, before that she had many
"dry" encounters with other men, then her "virginity" meant absolutely nothing to me!
If I had to choose, I'd rather she had lost her virginity because of her unrequited love than
be a woman who only held onto her last "hymen" while the rest was "open."
Thinking about this, for some reason, I began to feel that the importance of our love and spiritual fidelity
far outweighed physical perfection.

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A deep kiss I dared not hope for

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