I don't really want to live.

When I was young, I felt there were so many things in life I hadn't done, and I

had an indomitable fighting spirit to keep living.

When I hit a bottleneck and wanted to give up,

I always used ridiculous goals to motivate myself:

"I still want to have sex, I still want to have sex with different girls."

Yes,

what in life is more wonderful than sex?

I also wanted to travel to many countries and eat a lot of delicious food.

These were, of course, my second and third goals,

but they never had the same impact or motivating effect as my first goal.

As I grew older, accumulated more experience,

earned enough money to live on,

traveled to more countries, ate more delicious food,

and had more relationships,

I realized that

my life was about to end.

That sunny afternoon,

I was driving a girl I had just met, looking for a suitable motel.

I still remember

the stark contrast between the ornate door and the dilapidated garage.

The moment I opened the door, the mingled smell of cigarettes and mildew

made it hard to believe the price he charged at the counter.

Shifting my attention to her,

even in the dim light, her inherent elegance and striking makeup were still visible.

Strangely,

her beauty was completely disproportionate to her nervousness.

Her captivating charm, capable of bewitching any man, created a disorienting sense of disorientation

when her lips, trembling uncontrollably, touched mine. How could a girl with such allure be so inexperienced? Her beautiful legs, spread across the bed, made me want to thrust directly into her. But good things always require patience. Flirting , caressing, sucking— in the quiet room, suppressed moans and sounds of licking could be heard. 　　　　　※ jkforum.net ｜ jkf Czech Forum Beforehand, she told me she was dry around guys she didn't feel anything for, but her current physical performance clearly showed her feelings for me. The excessive lubrication during penetration was like a slightly dry lubrication mixed with tap water. Experienced people know that too much lubrication reduces the pleasure; this juicy yet still slightly moist state was perfect. Her greatest asset was her long, straight legs. In a missionary position, with her hands gripping her ankles and spreading them apart, the slightly forceful thrusting motion excited both of them. In a side-lying position, with one hand on her breast and the other on her waist, her curves were on full display. No wonder so many men were captivated by those legs. Luckily, I'm not a leg fetishist, or I would have been completely mesmerized today. But at the moment of ejaculation, I couldn't help but bite her calf, filling her body completely. Although I'm not obsessed, those beautiful legs are incredibly arousing. In the instant of ejaculation, my mind was filled with her coquettish cries and the shape of her legs. Looking at myself between her legs, I felt inexplicably excited. At that moment, I finally understood the obsession of a leg fetishist. Afterwards, she did something that surprised me: she squatted down, spread her legs, and used her hands to pry open her vagina, looking down to admire the sight of semen flowing out of her body and dripping onto the sheets. She told me with satisfaction that she loved seeing the semen flow out after being ejaculated inside her; it was an indescribable feeling, a masochistic, arousing yet incredibly satisfying sensation of being abused and manipulated. In the shower, head down, letting the powerful jet of water wash over me , the recent passion had briefly transported me away from my colorless world. For a fleeting moment, I seemed to be able to remain detached, but I quickly returned to reality— a world without purpose, a world where passion couldn't drive me. Although this girl possessed unparalleled charm, and during sex I felt something ignited within me, fully enjoying the moment, once I awoke from the passion, I lost all feeling again. Waking from this unreal world , I still couldn't find any reason to keep living. Living a life I didn't know what to do, besides earning money for sustenance, what was so special about living? What was there to look forward to? Some say that at this stage, most people have a partner or children, and have moved on to a better goal in life. But for me, it's because I don't have anyone worth loving. After satisfying those petty desires, I'm momentarily at a loss for what to do next. Perhaps so. There's nothing in my world worth clinging to.

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I don't really want to live.

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