Elf-like girl

It was a Saturday last winter. My wife and child went to a hot spring in the suburbs for a company activity, while I worked half a day in the city. Unexpectedly, the heaviest snowfall in years began at noon, and within half a day, it was over a foot deep. The roads were blocked, so they naturally wouldn't come, and were happy to stay overnight to continue enjoying the charm of the open-air hot spring in the snow. After finishing my work, I felt a bit empty in the evening. During the week, I served my boss at work and then spent my time with my wife and daughter. How could I not feel restless with this rare moment of leisure?

The snow had stopped, and stepping outside, the crisp air felt exceptionally fresh. Almost instinctively, I went to the largest dance hall in the city. I believe those in this forum know about these kinds of places; most cities have them, and they used to be extremely popular. They had a somewhat smoky and chaotic feel, and were known as "the poor man's paradise." But their value lay in the large number of people, the freedom, and the casualness—in today's terms, down-to-earth. Being there was stress-free and completely relaxing. Young female shop assistants often frequent the place after work, and if you're lucky, you might encounter one or two exceptional girls. However, in recent years, the quality of the dance girls has declined significantly. Frankly, I've long been disappointed with this place and haven't been here for over a year. But this "poor man's paradise" does possess an irresistible magic, as if there's always a glimmer of hope, and after a long period of abstinence, it stirs up a restless desire.

This time, however, I was unexpectedly not disappointed. Perhaps it was the perfect timing of my visit, or perhaps my taste and perspective have changed, but I actually found some girls quite attractive. There was a tall girl in a black t-shirt and jeans, incredibly sexy and curvaceous, quite alluring. But my gaze ultimately settled on a girl of medium height with delicate features. It's pathetic, really, but no matter how much I admire tall, voluptuous women, when faced with a group of women, I will always choose the most beautiful, pure, and elegant one, not necessarily the one with the biggest breasts.

Let me tell you about today's leading lady. This girl was wearing a pale yellow batwing top, with delicate, light makeup; she looked very pure and pretty. Her chin was slightly upturned, and when she smiled, two small dimples appeared. Her eyebrows had a touch of Yang Yuying's sweetness. Except for her hands, which weren't very slender, she was practically a stunner in this place. I didn't hesitate to ask her to dance. Before the first song was even finished, I led her into a private room. What was most remarkable was that this 19-year-old girl, born in 1994, was also very good at chatting, or perhaps we just really clicked; we ended up talking for two hours without even realizing it.

Let me summarize the situation: her name was Qian, she was from a neighboring province, her father worked in a steel factory, and her mother ran a small business. She had just graduated from a vocational school in this city, studying graphic design and dance—I saw her graduation photo in her school uniform on her iPhone 4s. She said she'd done many jobs: design at a renovation company; customer service at an insurance company; then she went into the nightlife scene, working as a hostess in a bar; and even as a hostess in a nightclub, but she couldn't handle the excessive drinking—although some customers were quite generous, not drinking was absolutely necessary. Later, she tried a dance hall, which she found quite nice, offering freedom, and importantly, no one forced her to drink. She said that besides dancing here, she also took lessons on the pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) every morning at a nearby training school, something her sister forced her to do.

Perhaps it was because of my shirt and refined appearance that I seemed somewhat out of place in this "migrant worker's paradise." Anyway, Qian was particularly talkative that night. She said she hated men hitting on her, saying that someone had approached her after work last night, scaring her half to death, and that someone had also approached her while she was reading at Carrefour today. I checked her WeChat; she had indeed posted a picture today—a horse standing on its back with an egg underneath, captioned "Hate men who always hit on you on the street, get lost!"—which cracked me up.

The vocational school she attended was actually near the university I went to. She talked about how perverted the students at our school were, saying she was often hit on while studying there, and her dorm mates were furious when they discovered male university students watching them with binoculars. A graduate student had been pursuing her; he's now in Beijing and recently visited her for dinner, but she didn't like him. A small business owner kept trying to persuade her to work for his company as a secretary, but she felt he had ulterior motives and didn't dare go. At eighteen or nineteen, it's natural to feel some resistance towards men who flit around like flies.

I talked to her about male psychology, human evolution, even quoting Pan Jun and Nash's story, and she listened attentively. She's a very understanding girl; she spoke almost endlessly, without hesitation or reservation. Perhaps all this information is false, but I still prefer to believe it's all true. Of course, I also shared a lot, including some of my own experiences and insights, without uttering a single lie. We exchanged phone numbers and added each other on WeChat. This was the first time since ending my single life that I'd given out my phone number and told someone my real name in a place like this. It's unbelievable.

Of course, I didn't come to a place like this to find someone to talk to. If it were just about chatting, there are plenty of beautiful women in real life. When she told me about how one morning when she woke up, her sister said, "Give me a kiss, let me cherish you," and even touched her breasts, making her feel disgusted, I lifted her head and gently breathed into her ear, saying, "I want to cherish you too." I kissed her small, tender lips, even teasingly saying, "I want a deep, French kiss." Of course, she resisted and dodged, but for a while afterward, taking the opportunity to be intimate became my main focus. I kissed her cherry lips many times, and even touched her wet, slippery tongue, which had a faint, sweet taste of youth.

Later, my hands kept trying to reach under her clothes from the front and back, but she resisted quite strongly. The biggest achievement was that once I grabbed most of her breast, pinched her nipple, and she let out a soft "ooh." She was probably a B cup, peach-shaped, very perky. She wore a thin chain on her chest, and I picked up the pendant and said, "It's pretty." She said, "It only cost a dozen yuan, why do you all say it's pretty?" I said, "Well, it really does look pretty on someone." Then, with a mischievous grin, I said, "Do you know another reason?" She asked, "What?" "Because when you pick up this pendant, you can touch it a little here," she said, reaching in to cup her breasts again. She laughed so hard she almost fell into my arms: "You!"

Sometimes I would pretend to be lecherous and lean down to peek at her cleavage. She would lift my collar and peek inside, even touching me through my shirt, saying, "Are your nipples big? Not really." I would say, "You touched me, so I'll touch you too," and then, taking advantage of the situation, I would pin her against the wall and kiss her. Maybe we were just having a great time, or maybe I was just shy, too embarrassed and unwilling to be too forward. I tried to sit her on my lap, but that made her head higher, making it harder to get close.

Two hours passed before I knew it. Before I came in, she said it was 100 yuan an hour, but I gave her 500 yuan. She seemed surprised, her eyes sparkling with emotion, and we seemed reluctant to part. She talked a lot, even about laundry, saying that underwear should always be washed by oneself, etc., with an innocent and adorable charm. As I left, she cupped my face in her hands, softly telling me to wear more clothes because it was too cold outside; she also said that I should visit her sometime, not necessarily here, maybe watching a movie or something. Though naive, it conveyed genuine tenderness. While I'm not lacking in tenderness, only seeking physical attraction, I still found it quite enjoyable.

After we parted, I dressed and watched her from a distance; no one asked her to dance—probably because her appearance wasn't popular among migrant workers. After leaving, I sent her a text: "Busy?" "No." It was already past ten o'clock, and a sudden feeling of tenderness washed over me, along with a heartache that this parting might be the last. I couldn't help but

text her again: "It's so cold, let me treat you to a late-night snack."

She replied, "I'm not hungry, it's too late, I'll gain weight."

"Then I'll take you home."

"No need, I'll stay a little longer."

Standing under the eaves of a building on the street corner, she texted again: "You should go home and rest early too, be careful on the road." This feeling... it was hardly that of a chance encounter between a man and a woman.

I replied emotionally, "On such a quiet, cold, snowy night, if only I could continue chatting with you, hug you, and kiss your dimples, that would be so wonderful!"

"You can write poetry? Hehe," she replied.

After thinking for a long time, I finally made up my mind and said, "I'm worried about you, I'll wait for you outside, no matter how late, I'll take you home!"

She replied, "You, you."

Soon she appeared at the door, having changed into jeans and knee-high boots, which accentuated her slender waist and pert bottom, giving her a light yet spirited look. She wore a white down jacket, her straight hair flowing freely, her smile radiant, making her appear even more youthful, full of sunshine and vitality. In that instant, I thought of my university days, waiting for my girlfriend outside the girls' dormitory. Leaving the ambiguous environment of the dance hall, I felt a little awkward. But in my heart, a thought emerged and grew clearer and clearer, more and more resolute. On this cold night, I had to hold onto her tightly; I couldn't let this lovely sprite slip away.

I didn't know how to express myself. The conversation and atmosphere that night lingered on a path of ambiguous intimacy, almost like a romantic relationship, and it was hard to change course. I was even more afraid that my abruptness would scare her away, leaving no chance for anything else. "I'll take you home," I said, then casually asked, "Do you live alone?" I learned that she lived in an apartment not far away, sharing with three other girls, and I felt a slight disappointment. The streets after the snow weren't particularly cold; occasionally, the wind would blow, scattering snowflakes from the ground and trees.

We walked aimlessly, arm in arm, occasionally covering her ears with my hand, and fell silent for a moment. Later, I whispered in her ear, "I'll miss you. How about we find a place to sit, have a drink, or watch a movie?" "There are movies this late?" "Yes, some even all night long," I exclaimed, overjoyed. I stopped, hailed a taxi, and went to the nearest movie theater. I won't go into details about the movie; if I ramble on, this post probably won't be suitable for sis. We hugged each other like old friends, and didn't do anything inappropriate. The movie was rather ordinary, and perhaps it was indeed too late, because I fell asleep in her arms sometime later.

When the movie ended, I opened my eyes and found she had just woken up, her eyes still sleepy, her cheeks flushed with a girlish blush. I said, "You're so tired, let's find a place to rest." She smiled shyly and didn't say anything. Perhaps she hadn't quite woken up yet. Fearing something might happen, I quickly grabbed her hand and headed straight for a four-star hotel across the street. When we reached the entrance, she hesitated slightly, holding my hand and reluctant to leave, asking softly, "Are we here?" I said firmly, "Yes, it's a nice place. Have you been here before?" She said, "No," then looked up at me intently, "Then you can't bully me!" "Don't worry," I promised without hesitation. “Let’s hook up!” “Hook up!” We hurriedly pressed our four fingers together. The warmth of my fingertips spread through me, but my heart was filled with only excitement, anticipation, and anticipation. Now that I was here, I had no choice.

She followed me into the room. With a “click” the door locked, before even inserting the key card, I turned back and pressed her against the door to kiss her. She probably hadn’t had time to react, and with a hint of shock and fear, she said “no” repeatedly, instinctively turning her head away. Unfortunately, she only managed to utter half of the second “no” before her lips were sealed. My upper body was pressed against her chest, my arms wrapped around her. She struggled and twisted with all her might, but the space was small, and there was nowhere to hide; her teeth were clenched, but how could they withstand the relentless exploration of her tongue? The moment she relaxed, her tongue slipped inside, touching that wet, sweet little tongue, and the defenses between her lips and teeth crumbled instantly. After a passionate kiss, her body gradually softened. Between breaths, I whispered in her ear, "You have no idea how much I love you. I want you to be my woman." Amidst a series of passionate kisses, I freed my hands to remove her down jacket, my right hand kneading her left breast through her thin wool sweater. Xiaoqian was already somewhat lost in passion, and with the underfloor heating in the room, she was still wearing her outer garment, her body flushed, her body undulating, and her breath coming in short gasps.

I quickly removed her sweater, and my coat was also off, so there was no need for further words. Before I could even unbutton her clothes, my hands slipped under her bra, finally grasping her small, rabbit-like breasts. Her nipples were already hard, and I couldn't resist any longer. I pushed the bra up, revealing her small breasts, which gleamed white in the dim light. I leaned down slightly and took one of her firm nipples into my mouth. Xiaoqian let out a soft "Ah," clearly feeling her body straighten. She turned towards me, her head slightly tilted back, her cherry lips parted slightly, her chest heaving, and she gasped softly. I cupped one breast in each hand, kneading it, while my mouth held the other, licking, sucking, and even biting into half of it. The breasts of a nineteen-year-old girl were truly beautiful, like new bamboo shoots after rain, like warm, smooth jade, like a lively, gentle dove, carrying a sweet, delicate fragrance. This feeling was truly indescribable.

As I continued this alternating assault on her breasts, my left hand encircled her slender waist from behind, while my right hand unbuttoned her pants and belt from the front, slipping inside her lower abdomen. In her dazed state, Xiaoqian instinctively tried to block me with her hands, a mixture of resistance and acceptance, but in an instant, I reached her most tender spot. The place was already soaking wet. My fingers gently probed between her soft, moist labia, and after just a few moments of teasing, Xiaoxi couldn't help but let out a soft "Ah," collapsing to her knees, her head resting on my shoulder, only her dazed, panting breaths remaining. I was already on the verge of climax, not about to give up. I pulled her down onto the warm floor, pulling off her jeans and black silk thong. Xiaoxi offered no resistance, like a docile lamb, letting me do as I pleased. The girl's body was now fully exposed; her pert breasts, flat stomach, and sparse pubic hair seemed to glow with a holy radiance under the snow and moonlight streaming through the window. I gently lay on top of her, kissing her lips, her face, her neck, her ears, her breasts, every inch of her skin.

My lower body was already hard as iron, pressing against her most tender spot. My hands held her slender, firm waist and pert buttocks. She slightly raised her body, parted her jade-like legs, and my hard penis slid in. Her vagina was so tight and tender; even though it was already soaking wet, as soon as the head of my penis entered, Xiaoqian began to plead softly, "It hurts, it hurts, be gentle." Her head tilted back, her brows slightly furrowed, her cherry lips half-open, making her even more alluring in the dim light. Although I intended to be gentle, I couldn't control myself. With a loud "Ah!" from her, my entire penis was submerged in that warm, moist place, the entrance of her vagina tightly wrapped around it—it was truly indescribable. A surge of heat rushed through my body, and I almost lost control. I pulled out my penis, then slowly entered again, feeling my shaft push aside layers of tender flesh, stretching the tightness of her entrance, like a plowshare gliding through spring mud after rain. After a few rounds like this, Xiaoqian began to moan again, her body twisting, like a delicate flower blooming beneath me. My hands gripped her soft, round buttocks, feeling her arching upwards, so I increased the force of my thrusts, penetrating deeply each time, reaching her very core. After several rounds, Xiaoxi, no longer shy, could no longer hold back her cries, clinging tightly to my waist, her fingernails digging almost into the skin of my back, her buttocks thrusting upwards rhythmically, moaning, "Faster, faster." I thrust with all my might, streams of semen gushing out, and we both collapsed to the ground, limp as a heap. The

solid wood floor was slightly warm, soothing our exhausted, almost broken bodies—it felt good. She lay on my chest, her beautiful eyes half-closed, her chest rising and falling. I stroked her hair with one hand, and gently cupped her soft, white breast with the other, my palm resting on her nipple. I asked, "Was it good?" She lightly punched me with her small fist and said, "You're so mean! You promised not to bully me, you're so bad!" I said, "It's because you're so beautiful." He then went over and put his arm around her shoulder, gently kissing her. After their lovemaking, her cherry lips appeared even more beautiful, soft and moist, exuding a sweet and delicate fragrance unique to young girls. The two kissed gently, like greedy children, without stopping.

I lay there for about half an hour before getting up, closing the curtains, and turning on the room light. In the bright light, I saw her snow-white body, beautiful as a flawless piece of white jade, immaculate. Our clothes and underwear were scattered on the floor, along with a small patch of semen or vaginal fluid dried by the floor heating. We smiled at each other. She playfully slapped me and ran to the bathroom like a light butterfly. I quickly stood up and followed her in. While bathing together, under the light and in the steam, I gazed again at her perfect body, marveling at the wonder of creation and the beauty of youth. Her skin was fair and smooth, her body perfectly proportioned, without an ounce of excess fat, her abdomen flat, her waist slender, her legs straight, and her buttocks slightly upturned—a rare beauty!

Most admirable of all were her breasts, which I had kissed countless times, and the mysterious valley between her legs. Despite having played with them for so long, seeing their breasts up close under the light still deeply shocked me. That natural, slightly upturned shape—only a girl of this age could possess that. Their whiteness was undeniable, and even the nipples were a delicate pink, the areolas incredibly light. I had never seen such white and tender breasts before, and I couldn't resist taking them into my mouth again. I kissed my way down to that mysterious place. Her labia were also pink and tender, tightly closed, hidden beneath sparse pubic hair, like a shy little flower about to bloom. Having seen so many dark-skinned women, I don't actually like women's genitals, but at this moment I couldn't help but kiss them. She pushed me away, saying, "No, it's dirty." I said, "So beautiful, not dirty at all." There really wasn't any unpleasant odor; instead, it was the unique scent of a young girl. Of course, I'm not good at licking a woman's vulva. Within minutes, seeing her react, panting softly, her vulva already slightly open, wet and warm, I stood up and attacked her upper body.

Later, I had her squat, gently pressing her head between my legs; my little brother was already proudly erect. I touched her luscious lips with my penis; she understood, looking at me with a mixture of hesitation and shyness, but finally took it in. My body tensed instantly, I inhaled, and Xiaoqian's soft lips and tongue teased my penis, occasionally brushing against it with her teeth. Though somewhat clumsy, it was an ultimate pleasure. She tilted her head back, her eyes hazy, her beautiful eyes slightly closed, her face rosy, her delicate features carrying a touch of childishness. Watching my large penis move in and out of her luscious mouth, I felt an indescribable satisfaction and pleasure, while a strange tenderness and love welled up within me. Finally, I gently helped her to her feet.

The bathroom was slippery. After a half-shower, half-foreplay, I helped her to the sink and hugged her from behind. She bent over slightly, sticking out her pert buttocks. With a "whoosh," my rock-hard penis slid between her plump, white buttocks, beginning a new round of pleasure. Seeing the slightly lewd expression on her youthful face in the mirror, and watching my rough, dark hands kneading her two white, tender breasts, I thought that even death would be worth it at that moment. She was probably also extremely stimulated, and soon she was moaning repeatedly, quickening the pace of her body. If the first time was a whirlwind of conquest, the second time, I intentionally wanted to prolong the time to savor this wonderful body. So, I hardened my heart, pulled her out of the bathroom, turned off the room lights, and went to the French windows. She put her hands on the railing, sticking out her buttocks, and I entered her from behind again.

Outside the window, the world was a vast expanse of white, a crescent moon hung in the cold, deep blue sky, and sparse lights still shone from the city's high-rises. The snow and moonlight reflected off her white body and rounded buttocks, accentuating her curves. Watching all this, the iron rod between his legs moved in and out between her snow-white buttocks, the squelching sounds of her juices rubbing together, the slapping sounds of impact, along with her soft moans and cries, echoing in the empty snowy night. The area

outside the French windows wasn't as warm as inside, but both of them were already drenched in sweat. Afraid of catching a chill, they finally returned to the clean, soft bed. This frenzied lovemaking lasted for nearly an hour, using almost every position imaginable. Finally, he had her lie face down on the bed, ejaculating his gushing semen in his favorite doggy-style position. The two of them collapsed onto the bed again, Xiaoqian more like a soft, boneless spring mud.

I don't know how long it lasted, but in a half-dreaming, half-awake state, I heard her speak: "You're my second man, do you believe me?"
Back when we were chatting at the dance hall, she mentioned having a boyfriend in school, and they'd been together for a few months before graduation. I blurted out, "I believe you, of course I believe you," but perhaps my tone was a little flippant, because she started to sob. I quickly put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her, kissing away her tears. Suddenly, she broke free, grabbed my shoulder, and bit me hard, making me yell in pain. She released me, and said slowly and seriously, "Actually, I only had sex with him three times. I didn't understand anything back then, really. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to remember me!" I was deeply moved and held her tightly. Until I heard her breathing evenly again, I remained still, cupping her delicate breasts in my hands, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up close to noon. When I opened my eyes, Xiaoqian was smiling, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now adorned with a touch of allure. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black thong and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been caressing all night. A series of kisses, caresses, and whispers ensued. From behind, I pulled down her black thong halfway, and my penis slipped between her thighs, the valley already slightly moist. After a few strokes, I thrust inside, and another round of pleasure ensued. After

showering and dressing, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoqian's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punching me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made me sore down there, it stung when I washed!" At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; it was quite a workout! Reluctantly parting ways, I went home, and soon my wife and daughter returned as well.

Back to my normal life, amidst the excitement, I felt a tinge of worry. She knew my phone number, my name, and even added me on WeChat; what if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single phone call or text message from her, if discovered by my wife, would be utterly disastrous. However, none of my fears materialized, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat daily became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message to say hello, but never comment.

She often posted photos, mostly of the usual things girls her age do—eating, drinking, playing, and having fun—as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look slender, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, is this the same woman who once drove me wild? I even had a fleeting illusion: was that tender, snowy night real, or was it all just a dream?

Sometimes, longing sprouts unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ends with a private message on WeChat. Only one weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, did I suddenly miss her. On impulse, I called, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch together. I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read. She said yes, just having lunch, and she wanted to go shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up

, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there was something at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, of excellent character, appearance, and talent. She's incredibly good to me; the thought of being apart from her makes me ashamed. Even if one day I become incredibly wealthy, and my wife is generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine, even if I can provide Xiaoqian with material abundance, I can never give her pure love.

Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my infatuation. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young, and she will have intoxicating love and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I am proud of my rational thinking, and sometimes I feel the helplessness of life and am secretly saddened. As time passed, one day I discovered that she had blocked me on WeChat. I sent many verification requests but received no response, and when I called, I was told that her phone was out of service.

I knew that this elfin girl had completely vanished from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, yet the pain was still excruciating.

The following year, at the start of a new era, everything was fresh and vibrant. Many of the former entertainment venues instantly became deserted. One drizzly early summer evening, I found myself back at that dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Closed for Business" sign posted.

The former gentle prosperity, the allure of its sensual pleasures, were all gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive.

I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.

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Elf-like girl

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