Cornfields in my hometown

At 16, I dreamt for the first time of a girl wearing a soft, loose-fitting
cotton dress. The gentle breeze rustled her shapely buttocks, arousing my desire and causing my
first nocturnal emission. When I reached between my legs and touched that sticky substance, I felt both nervous and excited
. Although I didn't understand what it was, as the frequency of my nocturnal emissions increased and those stimulating images from my dreams
recurred, I gradually came to understand the pleasure of masturbation. It became an uncontrollable habit;
I masturbated almost every day, a habit that has continued into my married life.

Of course, my wife initially didn't understand my actions, thinking I wasn't satisfied with her. However, a very
happy marriage isn't a sufficient condition for a man to stop masturbating. Later, through my repeated explanations and
the facts she witnessed, she gradually understood and became accustomed to it. Now, when she's feeling down or physically unwell, she sometimes
tries to help me with it, and it's become a regular occurrence. Especially during
times when my husband and I are temporarily separated for various reasons, she understands how I cope with that loneliness and isn't too worried about me messing around.
And that's generally true, so masturbation has indeed contributed to social stability.

Previously, my family lived in a remote rural area of Anhui. The local people were very kind, and the women were very virtuous.
You can sense this from the gentle, tender tones of Huangmei Opera. Of course, as a typical rural area,
there were many reed fields and cornfields. So finding a place to masturbate wasn't difficult.
Masturbating in a reed field or cornfield is very relaxing, and sometimes you might even encounter unexpected scenes. People from rural areas probably
know that when rural women need to urinate while doing farm work, they often find a
place they consider secluded to relieve themselves. Once, I went out to gather pig feed. While wandering around with my basket, I happened to see a
discarded newspaper with a still from the movie *Rickshaw Boy*. In the picture, Tiger Girl was flirting with Xiangzi. This ordinary
still aroused me. I went into a nearby cornfield. The towering corn made me feel safe and
well-hidden. In this environment, you can indulge yourself. So, I boldly took off my pants in the cornfield
and imagined a girl I liked in front of me. I imagined myself taking off her clothes one by one
, then touching her breasts, lying on top of her, and rapidly thrusting my hand, which was tightly gripping my penis,
until I reached pleasure. It's safe to say that every man who masturbates (I don't know much about women)
imagines a woman he likes or a scene from a book while masturbating. That time, just as I
unzipped my pants and pulled out my penis, ready to do it, I suddenly heard a noise nearby. Startled, I quickly pulled up my pants,
squatted down, and looked around. I soon spotted a white buttock and red clothes swaying in the weeds not far away, near a reed ditch.
It was clearly a woman, and I felt an indescribable
excitement. Who was it? Afraid of being discovered, I quickly lay down and stared intently at the white
buttock until she finished and left. A while later, I pretended to have just come from somewhere to gather pig feed, and
slowly walked to the spot. I saw a puddle and some transparent water droplets hanging from the branches of the weeds. The
soft soil there had been eroded into a small pit. I casually looked around, and soon I saw
two women about 150 meters away, weeding near a cornfield where there seemed to be some beans planted.
They were about 30 years old, from a nearby village. Judging from what I had just seen, it was
the woman with the better figure, wearing a red shirt and gray pants. The slightly thinner woman next to her
had a very alluring bust. I secretly stared at her gray pants for a long time, seemingly trying to see through them
to her white buttocks. That afternoon, I stayed in the cornfield, secretly observing them, because
I knew that as long as they didn't leave, they would definitely need to relieve themselves again in a few hours, and I would definitely have another chance
to see their buttocks, or even more alluring areas. Sure enough, about an hour later,
the thinner woman put down her tools and slowly walked towards the reed ditch. Based on my judgment, I quickly
adjusted my position to have a clearer view and greater security. Soon, she
arrived near where the other woman had relieved herself. It's likely that in their minds, this was the most secluded spot in the area,
because the reeds and cornfield acted as a barrier. She had no idea that a young man was secretly watching her from behind a low, dense clump of willows not far away
. She calmly unbuckled her red belt,
revealing a floral-patterned pair of panties. She didn't immediately pull them off, but instead unzipped her shorts, examining
them closely, seemingly admiring her pubic hair. She even reached inside with her right hand and touched it, a
satisfied expression on her face. A minute later, she finally pulled down her panties, reaching to remove a few blades of grass that had touched her buttocks. She squatted down
, and the sound of running water, along with the sight of her not-so-white but clean and firm buttocks, immediately aroused me
. Because of the bushes beside her, I couldn't see her genitals clearly, but as she wiped herself,
I vaguely caught a glimpse of a dark pubic hair.

From that moment on, whenever I see fields of corn and reeds, I think of a woman's white buttocks.
Truly, it seems to be the most beautiful scene in the world: a green background, white buttocks, and those natural curves.
To this day, I am still influenced by this and particularly enjoy looking at women's buttocks. As far as I know, every man, besides
the face, has a favorite part of a woman's body. Some like breasts, some like buttocks, and of
course, some like long legs or feet. I like a woman's full buttocks, but not large ones. In Western countries,
women's buttocks are mostly large, which is the main reason I dislike Western women. Later, after I understood
the specifics of marriage, I thought that after I got married, I would definitely take my wife to a large cornfield
, spread a cloth on the ground, and we would both take our clothes off and have a good time touching and making love. Of course,
for me now, I've done this more than once. I think every man has
a certain place he desires to make love with his beloved woman in a relaxed or tense environment. Some people like to...
In the bedroom, under the dim colored light, some people enjoyed making love, while others preferred to entwine with their lovers on rainy days.

Of course, some preferred to have sex with women in the wild.

Later, I left home to attend high school in the county town. Because there were six students in one room, and the beds were bunk beds
of poor quality, masturbating in bed at night often caused the beds to creak, making me very nervous, like a thief
. So, I changed to masturbating in the toilet during evening self-study. Luckily, the school toilets didn't have
lights at night, so I would quietly feel my way to the squat toilet in the dark, pull down my pants, and then use my right hand to thrust my
penis back and forth in the dark until I ejaculated. Sometimes, the sounds coming from the girls' toilet next door made me even more aroused.
This kind of life accompanied me for almost three years of high school. Back then, there were no women available for prostitution, and relationships between men and women
were still considered a minor matter. So sometimes, when I saw court notices sentencing rapists on the street, I would stop and
read them carefully. Honestly, those notices had an impact on us back then no less significant than
a pornographic novel today.

During my second year of high school, one evening I went to the county cinema and noticed
a loose brick in the wall between the men's and women's restrooms. With a gentle push, a thin crack would appear. I thought it
wasn't just me; someone had deliberately made it. I heard running water from next door, so I
mustered my courage and pushed the door open. A woman in her twenties was squatting there, her face flushed, seemingly straining.
That night, on my way home, I masturbated through my pants pocket,
eventually ejaculating inside.

After graduating high school, I was admitted to a university in Nanjing, not too far from my hometown—
only a five-hour bus ride. My father insisted on sending me to university. I agreed; he had worked in Nanjing before
and was familiar with the area. My major is International Finance. From the roster held by the registration office teacher, I could see
there were 38 people in our class, 16 of whom were girls. The hometown information written after their names told me that one of the girls
was from the same county as me. Honestly, I immediately had a feeling that it was fate; that
girl would be my girlfriend, or even my future wife, the one who would bear my children. At least I would have the chance to see
her naked. I'm not kidding, that's what I thought at the time. Coincidentally, just as I was imagining
all sorts of scenarios about our future, even picturing her lying naked in a cornfield making love with me, she suddenly appeared
. It turned out she had come on the same bus as me, but unfortunately, I was sitting in the front and hadn't noticed her along the way
. So, after she registered, my father went up to her and asked if she was from a certain county. After confirming, we
naturally felt like we were from the same hometown. She was fairly good-looking, not very tall, but her breasts were already
quite angular, and her buttocks were especially round, which was the main reason I wasn't disappointed. After receiving our
dormitory keys and putting down our luggage, my father was happy that I had company there (but I'm sure
his idea of "company" was different from mine). He took us to a small
restaurant on campus for a meal. Because I felt guilty and my father was there, I didn't dare look at her closely or say much during the meal
. While eating, my father said, "You two should care about each other, share things
, and keep each other company when you go home." To me, his words sounded like encouragement for me to pursue her.
I don't know what she was thinking at the time. When I asked her later, she said she didn't think anything special and thought it was just a normal
thing, which I found hard to believe.

On the third day, when my father went back, she came from the girls' dormitory to see him off, all the way to the bus stop for route 35 outside the school
. After waving goodbye, I had my first chance to talk to her. Not knowing what to say,
I started talking about the university admission rate of her old high school, why she chose international finance as her major, and so on.
Along the way, I kept mustering the courage to stare at her. She seemed shy, occasionally glancing up at me, but mostly
keeping her head down and talking. Midway through the journey, a cyclist rushed up from behind, probably without braking.
In a moment of panic, I pulled her to the side of the road. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so my hand brushed against her smooth skin.
Afterwards, we didn't say a word for two minutes (she later told me she felt a jolt,
a tingling sensation in her arm). We finally escaped
the awkwardness when we reached the school store, where we needed to buy stationery.

For the next semester, we didn't talk much. In class and at meals, we were always boys from the same dorm,
while the girls walked or sat separately. There wasn't much interaction between the boys and girls, but I always
liked to secretly observe her during class. It seemed like my mind was always on her. When we changed classrooms after class, I liked to follow
the girls from their dorm and look at their butts. Honestly, I thought her butt was the most beautiful in the world:
not too big, not too small, not too flat, not too high—just right.

At night in the dorm, the boys liked to joke about the girls in our class. Because everyone knew we were from the same
hometown, it seemed natural that everyone assumed she was my girlfriend. Lying in bed at night, almost every night I would
use her as an object of my imagination to masturbate. The bunk beds in college were much better than in high school, so masturbating was relatively
safe. Back then, everyone used mosquito nets, so sometimes I would lie inside the mosquito net without a blanket and masturbate,
often spraying semen onto the top of the net. Over time, light yellow stains would appear. Later, I changed to
holding toilet paper in one hand and pumping with the other, placing the paper on the glans just before climax. Of course, sometimes it would still spray onto
other places. Anyway, the blankets and mosquito nets I brought to university had many light yellow stains. Since everyone
was about the same, my classmates understood and no one was surprised. I'm not exaggerating when I say that if
I let my hand go during masturbation, the semen could spray more than 5 meters away. So now, when I see semen almost flowing out of my penis, I often miss that ability. That's why I have the feeling that men should get married
between 20 and 25. 　　Because I didn't have many opportunities to be with her during the semester, I looked forward to the holidays after two months of school, because then we could go back together. In my torment, I finally looked forward to the winter vacation. Because the bus to our county town...

There was only one trip a day, so we naturally bought tickets for that one trip. The night before we went back, I was excited
all night, imagining all sorts of schemes on the way, the goal of course being to take advantage of her, preferably to have sex (at the time,
I just thought this was nothing more than a communist ideal).

When we boarded the bus around 2 PM, I realized many of my plans were impossible. Because of the thick winter clothes,
unlike at the beginning of the school year, there was no chance to touch her in any particular place. So, I pretended to be very proper the whole way,
telling stories about the boys in our class and commenting on our teachers, without saying a single inappropriate thing.
I only occasionally touched her foot, and she didn't seem to want to stomp away. By the time we arrived in the county town, it was almost
8 PM, completely dark, and the buses to our village had long since stopped running. At that moment, a strange
excitement welled up inside me, because the darkness made me think of a bed, of that alluring cornfield, and of the
village women I had seen there, their white buttocks and that tuft of dark pubic hair.

I paid for a meal with her at a small restaurant, and then we started looking for a guesthouse to stay in. Back then
, many guesthouses were privately owned and rarely had any guests. So when we
finally found a place to stay at a privately owned restaurant near the county power supply bureau, we were the only two guests there. The family, surnamed Ma, were
an elderly couple in their sixties. Their two sons both worked at the power supply bureau and lived in the nearby staff quarters.
After their sons moved out, the vacant house was no longer needed, so they turned it into a guesthouse. The conditions were decent, because
sometimes their sons would introduce guests from their workplaces to stay there.

Mrs. Ma assumed we were a young couple, so she didn't register us and gave us a room in the backyard, bringing
us a kettle of hot water. The room had two beds and cost 16 yuan in total. I felt embarrassed and wanted to explain, but after glancing
at her and seeing that she didn't say anything, I muttered a few words and remained silent. She was clearly embarrassed, but strangely
, she didn't explicitly object to only having one room (later, she said she wasn't thinking about anything at the time,
but I don't know if that's true?). After the older woman left, we fell silent again, unsure of what to say. Luckily,
there was a copy of *Reader's Digest* (now supposedly called *Reader*) on the table. She picked it up, flipped through it, and suddenly
opened a colored page to me, asking, "What do you think of this woman's demeanor?" I looked at the picture; it showed a rural
girl sitting under a tree reading something, with a basket beside her and a cow tethered to the tree. I
pretended to look at her very seriously for a while and said, "Not bad, but…" I wanted to say she was
still far inferior to city girls, but the words stuck in my throat because she was also a rural girl, and it would make her uncomfortable
. She didn't seem to realize anything and continued to ask, "But what?" In a moment of impulse, I blurted out, "But she
doesn't have the same demeanor as you." Although it was blatant flattery, she still seemed pleased. She quickly glanced up
at me, then looked down and asked, "Really?" Of course, all I could say was, "Really!" She didn't say anything more, continuing to flip through her magazine.
Clearly, her mind was in turmoil. I was also excited by my boldness, glancing sideways at her long
hair and her chilblained hands. After a while, the scene in the cornfield began to replay in my mind,
imagining her white buttocks, picturing her naked. In a moment of excitement, I reached out and touched her hand,
asking, "Why are your hands chilblained?" She looked up at me and said, "It's like this every year." This time, she didn't look away
. We stared at each other for less than a minute, then she showed a hint of panic and said, "Can you see
that one of my eyes is bigger than the other?" I felt encouraged and quickly said no, let me look closely. As
I spoke, I pulled her from the other bed to sit with me. She lifted her face, looking at
me expectantly. I started to panic under her gaze. In my panic, I pressed my lips to her cool face. She didn't move,
letting me kiss her. Soon I moved my lips to hers. She didn't open them at first, but quickly she
reacted, opening her mouth and putting her tongue in mine. I began to hold her tightly with both hands, as if trying
to feel her breasts through her thick cotton clothes. During the kissing, my left hand unconsciously began to touch
her groin. Although it felt flat there, she quickly trembled under my gentle touch
and suddenly squeezed her legs together. My hand, held tightly, felt the soft, warm
sensation on her thighs. She seemed to go limp and quickly slumped onto the bed. I followed suit, pulling my left hand away...
I stroked her flat, slightly protruding vulva through her pants. A moment
slipped my hand under her coat and into her breasts, kneading them through her underwear. She became even more excited, her legs
unconsciously parting, no longer as tightly closed as before. I gently unbuttoned her coat and
pulled her underwear out of her waistband. Then, I slipped my hand under her underwear, pressing it against her hot skin, and touched her breasts and
nipples again. Suddenly, she bit my tongue, her body stiffening, and a flush appeared on her face…
I whispered in her ear, “May I see your naked body?” She didn’t speak, only nodded slightly
. So I took my hand out and told her to undress. After she took off her coat, she gave me a mysterious smile, spread the
blankets on the bed, and, still wearing her pants, crawled into bed, saying, “Turn your face away.” I
turned my face to the other side, and after a while, she said from under the covers, “Okay.” I quickly turned around and slowly lifted
a corner of the blanket. I saw she was only wearing a bra. I clumsily pushed it off her breasts,
revealing her not-too-high but very alluring breasts. I gently caressed them with affection. She stared at me, then took my
right hand and placed it on her left nipple, asking, "Is it beautiful?" I nodded, brought my lips to hers, and gently, softly
licked the pink nipple. Then I opened my mouth wide, wishing I could take her entire breast into my mouth at once. She
trembled slightly, then slowly guided me to kiss her right breast. After a while, I
lifted the blanket again, revealing her white shorts and slender thighs. I reached for
that mysterious place like a work of art. She willingly parted her legs. I caressed her through her shorts for a while, then slowly lowered them
, revealing sparse pubic hair and plump flesh. My penis was already erect, but I still controlled myself.
I gently parted her labia majora, carefully examining the clitoris I had longed for. It wasn't as
long as I had imagined, but it still trembled slightly at the slightest touch. I inserted a finger into that mysterious opening;
the warmth inside excited me even more. I tried to push it further in, as if trying to know just how deep it was. Finally,
I touched something—perhaps what people often call the entrance to the cervix. I secretly observed her expression;
it was complex, I couldn't tell if she was enjoying it or in pain. Her eyes, not completely closed, seemed to be peeking
at me. I whispered, "You're beautiful. You're a true work of art."

Suddenly, she reached her right hand towards my crotch, grabbed my penis, and laughed, saying, "You're amazing, so
hard!" Stimulated, I quickly pulled down my pants, crawled into her bed, and made her lie face down.
I rubbed my penis and pubic hair against her round, soft buttocks, then turned her over and
slowly, deeply inserted my penis into her long-awaited hole. In my heart, I cried out,
"Ah! I've finally become a real man!" (To be continued, please read the first part: Cornfield)

Although I was prepared and afraid that her hymen would break and cause pain, I didn't rush into
penetration. But the process told me that penetration wasn't too difficult. Perhaps our foreplay was sufficient (of course, this is my
conclusion now; I didn't understand these things back then), or perhaps she was well-prepared. In any case, although I
used a little force at the entrance, my swollen glans didn't have to exert much effort to squeeze in and slowly
reach the bottom. The feeling was absolutely indescribable. So, experienced gentlemen and ladies reading this,
you might only be able to close your eyes and recall your first time to understand that
wonderful experience (of course, if you gave your first time to a prostitute, that's another story).
Friends who have never had sexual experience, don't worry. You can leave this suspense there for now. Remember: when that day comes,
don't let victory go to your head. Take your time and concentrate on experiencing that truly indescribable feeling.
Feeling : Warm, tight, tingling, numbing, tingling... oh my god, I really can't describe it... Because it was relatively
easy to penetrate, I even wondered if she wasn't a virgin anymore.

But I was so magnanimous back then, thinking that even if she wasn't a virgin, I would still love her. But the next
day, accidentally seeing two drops of blood on the sheets still excited me, because for me, this
was ultimately better news. She later told me that she didn't experience the pleasure she had originally expected this time, because
she had read some magazines beforehand and knew that there should be a feeling of euphoria.
Of course, later our sex life almost always resulted in orgasm, and 90% of the time we reached it simultaneously, because I later
learned some control techniques. I could make my penis ejaculate that thick, hot semen within 5 seconds after she said, "You're about to cum,"
and my penis would involuntarily expand in her vagina a dozen times until she forgot
herself and bit me, scratched me, and hurt me.

That day, we barely slept a wink. First, she was anxious about getting pregnant, which worried her
for a long time. Then, thankfully, I remembered a book I'd read before, which said that the seven days before and after a woman's period are the safe
period. She became excited, albeit skeptical, because her period had only ended two days prior. Of course,
later events proved us right. This experience brought us
a lot of fun later on, because we knew when to use a condom and when it was okay to go in naked.
Later that night, we barely slept, just excitedly chatting and caressing each other. She nestled in my
arms, tracing the lines on my chest with her fingers, and said, "You must be good to me from now on, you can't lie to me."
Of course, I agreed without hesitation, promising, "Don't worry, I'll always love you." It was then that I realized
how useful my usually unbelievable words suddenly became. Of course, experience now tells me that expecting a man
to sleep with only one woman his whole life is as impossible as expecting him to give birth, but expecting him to love only
one woman his whole life is entirely believable. Because a man sleeping with one woman and loving one woman are two completely different things.
So, looking back, I realize I wasn't lying to her, because I always loved her and was always good to her, though I
inevitably cheated a few times. So, I'd like to remind some ladies: don't let your husbands or boyfriends
promise to only have sex with you; that's often unrealistic and meaningless. Relaxing your
control over his penis can sometimes win you his love.

The next day, around 5 a.m., we lingered for a while longer, because our breakup time was getting
closer. Suddenly, we no longer liked the holiday and hoped school would start immediately so we
could see each other every day. But… in the end, we agreed to meet again in town at 10 a.m. on the second day of the Lunar New Year,
right outside this guesthouse, and not to be late.

It was a long vacation; every minute felt like a month to me because there were no
telephones, let alone cell phones or the internet. So now I often wonder: is the internet and cell phones
a blessing or a curse for people in love?

Because they gain so much, and at the same time, they won't experience the excruciating torment we went through—
a kind of blissful torment that, in retrospect, is incredibly bittersweet.

After school started, we pretended nothing had happened, but an impulsive act later
exposed our relationship. A classmate from Guangdong, who lived next door, was commenting on the girls in our dorm
when he said her butt was beautiful. I didn't say anything, but another classmate jokingly asked, "How do you know? Have you seen it?"
He said, "Yes!" The classmate then asked, "What proof do you have?" To my surprise, that guy said, "I really
have seen her butt; she has a birthmark on her left butt." I knew he was talking nonsense, but I still couldn't help but
punch him and kick him out of our dorm. From then on, it seemed like the whole class automatically stopped going to the boys' dorm,
at least not when I was around, and no one dared to comment on her anymore. The girls also seemed to sense our relationship. Under these circumstances
, our relationship finally went from being secret to being public. At that time, the school was very strict about dating, so it was inevitable...
Affected by this, her grades had been excellent for four years, and she could have been directly admitted to graduate school upon graduation
, but her name wasn't on the list. The teacher wouldn't say the reason, but perhaps it was because we were dating.

This was a huge blow to her; instead of pursuing graduate studies, she had to return to our registered hometown to find work. She got a job
at the Bank of China in our county, working in the newly established foreign exchange management department; I got a
job at the Agricultural Bank of China in our county, and in my second week there, I was assigned to a branch as the deputy director of the business department. At first,
I would travel to the county town once a week to see her. She shared a room with another girl from the bank in
a guesthouse next to the county waterworks. That girl also had a boyfriend, supposedly
the son of the deputy secretary of the county party committee. So we didn't dare offend her. When I visited, she would come out, feeling awkward staying in the room
for fear of upsetting the other girl. After a few weeks, it became her coming to the countryside to see me on Saturday afternoons. I
had a large room upstairs in the sales office. The streets in my village were short, just a few hundred meters east to west, lined with farmland.
The corn hadn't been harvested yet, so we often went for walks after dinner, sometimes ending up in the nearby cornfields. Seeing
the cornfields reminded me of the white buttocks of farm women I'd seen there before, which excited me. I started to trick her
into going to the cornfield to find some ears of corn to cook, and she believed me, following me into the cornfield, to
a place far from the roadside. You might have this experience: when a man and woman are
in an environment where they feel somewhat isolated from the outside world, they are most easily aroused, such as in a closed bedroom or a closed car
. So when we got to the cornfield, when I grabbed her breasts from behind, she grabbed my penis.
We leaned in and kissed, caressing each other, naturally loosening our belts. At that time, Zhang Yimou's
*Red Sorghum* had just won an award, and the memory of the sorghum field scenes in the film drove us wild. I trampled
down a few corn stalks, then took off my coat and spread it on the ground. I slowly took it off, slowly
touched and kissed every inch of her body. Then, accompanied by the rustling of the wind, we made love passionately,
thrusting and pumping, filled with excitement…

After that one time, she became addicted. Almost every time we made love, she liked to go to the cornfield. Afterwards, she
would urinate there, finding it indescribably pleasurable. Later, after the corn was harvested, there were hardly any tall
crops left in the fields, so we had to make love in our dormitory. But even then, she always liked me to first describe
the environment of a cornfield, and then we would pretend to be in a dense cornfield before slowly beginning
everything… You could say the cornfield became our most beautiful place for lovemaking.

I remember two weeks before the corn harvest, many corn leaves had turned yellow, and the cornfield was
becoming sparse, so the concealment was much worse than before. The weather hadn't completely cooled down yet. When we
came to a cornfield again after dinner, and started doing *that*, we suddenly heard voices, seemingly very close
. A woman asked, "What day is your wife coming back next month?" A man said, "The 5th, I'm not
sure. Are you scared?" The woman laughed: "Am I scared, or are you scared?" The man said, "What am I scared of? As long as you're not scared
, I can do it to you a hundred times, and she won't know. Look here, it's so safe, the ground is our bed, the sky
is our blanket. You can do it without worry. Come on, turn your backside towards me, let me do it to you from behind again." The woman said,
"Slow down. Last time I let you do it to me from behind, I felt uncomfortable for several days afterward." A moment later, we heard
the slapping sound of a belly hitting a buttock.

We were both too scared to speak, and quietly inserted our penises into her vaginas, thrusting silently.
That time, I noticed she was unusually wet, and I enjoyed it immensely.
After the two men nearby left, I mimicked the man and said, "Come on, turn your ass towards me, let me fuck you from behind." She laughed and whispered, "
Be gentle, you made me uncomfortable for days last time from behind." We excitedly
did it again from behind, and she had her first double orgasm. Later, when we reminisced and compared our experiences, she
surprisingly ranked this time as the most memorable. I understood.

Life at the bank was monotonous, but we were fulfilled. Because we worked in different departments, we
hadn't been allocated housing after three years. The Agricultural Bank said that if we wanted housing, the rural branch could provide it, but
we didn't want to settle down in the countryside. Later, we thought it didn't matter, because all we lacked was that piece of paper.
So we never went through the marriage formalities, and the people around us didn't mind because they already accepted our
marital relationship. This continued for six years. Then one day, I suddenly thought about going abroad. A college classmate
was in our city on a business trip and stopped by to see us. He said that several people from our class had already immigrated to Canada and
New Zealand. I then started to have the idea of going abroad…

In February 1995, we got our marriage certificate, obtained passports with the help of a relative at the county public security bureau
, and submitted the relevant documents. In June, we received a notification from the New Zealand Immigration Service's Beijing office that our
immigration application had been approved. At that time, we both had mixed feelings. Going abroad was
a dream we hadn't dared to imagine for many years, and now it had suddenly become a reality. Of course, we were happy. But what would the future be like? Many
relatives said that it was an isolated island, an agricultural country, and wouldn't be much better than China. These comments made
us worried, but no matter what, since it had been approved, we decided to treat it as a trip and
see New Zealand for ourselves first. So we exchanged all our savings, plus gifts from relatives and friends, for US
dollars, totaling over 6,000. We then took unpaid leave from our jobs and flew to Auckland. Auckland
's airport wasn't large, but it was entirely carpeted, giving us a VIP feel. Of course
, I later learned that finding a room without carpet in New Zealand is probably harder than finding one with carpet in China. The airport
exit was a parking lot with thousands of cars. For some reason, I immediately fell in love with the country
, while she felt the opposite, finding it lacking in vibrancy and resembling rural China. Later, I asked her if it
was because New Zealand lacked cornfields, and she said that seemed to be a factor.

We rented a house in the New Market area. In this completely new environment, we started a new
wave of passionate lovemaking, especially since we now had a marriage certificate, which felt more secure. So,
when I was with her, I would often shout, "I'm going to do you! It's my legal right!" She would say, "
Don't be so conceited. There's a crime of marital rape in New Zealand." Mentioning rape, I would say, "I'm going to rape you." Sometimes she
would pretend to resist and struggle. Once, I even deliberately tore open one of her already ripped underwear at the crotch,
pretending to be violent, then held her hands down, spread her legs, and inserted my penis into her vagina,
thrusting rapidly. She slowly twisted beneath me, seemingly trying to break free of my control, but we were very coordinated, our strength
and technique perfectly balanced, making us both feel that this sex life was hard-won and cherished it even more. So
now, sometimes when she has sexual desires, she often says, "Honey, rape me."

Sometimes I say, "I don't have any criminal motive right now." Later I asked her, "You women are so strange, do you really like
being raped?" She said no, only when a woman is raped by a man she likes will she be happy! Ah, I see!

A month later, at the language class, we heard we could apply for subsidies, so we quickly received them
. Life started to get back on track, without any worries. The more relaxed a person is, the
higher the quality of their sex life. So I felt that our sex life these past few months was like when we first started dating—we did it every day,
and we liked to try different things. In New Zealand, there are some adult TV programs that you can only secretly watch back home after midnight
, and sometimes we like to wait until then, watching TV while we do it. Anyway, I remember
that I once bought 100 condoms at once, and we used them up in just over two months. Our room was
often littered with condoms on the table and bed. Luckily, no friends came over, so our sex life was
so relaxed and stress-free. Nearly a year later, she started university, majoring in finance. She
didn't find it too difficult, and it was then that she realized how brilliant our choice of international finance ten years ago had been
. The year of study ended quickly, and after graduation, she found a job at a bank with an annual salary of
30,000 yuan. It wasn't much, but we were very content.

During holidays, we sometimes liked to drive out for fun, leaving
traces of our love everywhere—on remote meadows, in dense forests, beside clear streams, and among fragrant flowerbeds. I remember once in
a park south of Auckland, a young couple was secretly embracing in a grove of trees. Their
trousers had fallen down, and their ample buttocks were quite arousing. Perhaps they didn't notice us, or perhaps they
didn't care at all; in any case, they were having sex with abandon. We walked slowly along a nearby path, secretly
watching. That's when I realized: watching others have sex live is completely different from watching porn. In
another part of that grove, we reenacted the same scene. The difference was that when we noticed someone approaching, we
quickly pulled up our trousers because we weren't comfortable exposing our buttocks to others.

In 2000, due to changes in New Zealand immigration policies, we decided to
move from New Zealand to Melbourne, Australia, and began preparing for our first child. Unexpectedly
, our first children were twins, a boy and a girl, born that November. Because of her advanced age
, she suffered a lot during childbirth, experiencing significant bleeding. The doctor even asked me
what I would do if a dangerous situation arose. I thought to myself: "Is that even a question? As long as the mother is alive, there's always hope." Of course, I would save her!
It was then that I realized how incredibly fortunate it is to truly love another person! It's
more important than being loved by someone else! Now, I often see many young international students from China living together.
They are, I would say, fortunate, but sometimes I wonder if these young people, drawn together by sex, can
truly transform their sexual attraction into a genuine, unforgettable love? When a man can maintain
sexual interest in a woman for many years, I can say that they have reached a deeper level of love.

My partner took our child back to China last month to visit our parents, so I've had some free
time lately, which is why I've finally found the time to write about our unforgettable experience. Before posting, I told her about
my plan on the phone. She initially objected, mainly because she was worried that some fellow villagers living elsewhere might easily find out our background,
causing a bad influence. I told her it was fine! Because I didn't mention our names or specific places
, but everything was based on our real lives. Truth is also a kind of beauty. Finally, she agreed.

I know many readers will read this as erotic literature, which is to my surprise, because sex is
one of the most important things in everyone's life. There's no need to hide it. Everyone on this forum
is definitely a normal person in their daily lives; not thugs or rapists who like sex. Normal people like it!!
Otherwise, I wouldn't be posting my article here. I have two purposes: through reminiscing, I want to
find that wonderful feeling in moments of loneliness and add fun to my life; secondly, I also hope that we readers
can have a happy and sweet sex life, because it also requires communication, learning, and, more importantly, genuine creation
! As long as you and your spouse are willing, and without affecting others, feel free to use your imagination
to create high-quality sex for yourselves. I sincerely hope you will share your experiences
with me and others. Thank you!
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Cornfields in my hometown

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