The Sexual Journey of a Charming Woman

This post was last edited by the Sixth Demon King on 2020-05-05 at 09:49. After

washing my hands and changing into my pajamas, I sat at the table and added my favorite rose essential oil to the aromatherapy burner. The fragrance filled the air. Okay, now, my story begins.
In every woman's story, there is always a man, perhaps more than one. The people and events she experiences shape her into a full and radiant woman. If she is a woman with great potential, this shaping process becomes full of artistry. Time is like a spiritual hand, caressing a woman's experiences, ultimately creating a restrained yet elegant work of art.
Now, my man is leaning back on the sofa, pouting and bossing me around, almost like he's being affectionate. I like this kind of calling. He always calls me baby, sweetie, or little pig, and sometimes he even calls me "Zizi Tuo" in our dialect—very affectionate nicknames. I like it; men also have the right to be affectionate.
Sometimes, filled with gratitude, I wonder how I ended up with him, and how five years have passed in the blink of an eye. Lying in his arms at night, I think about the day we met and all the little things we experienced together. I can vividly describe everything about him back then, including his eyes, his clothes, even the smallest details. He would stare at me with wide eyes in surprise, and I would tap his nose and say, "Be careful, I hold grudges."
Before him, I had been with two other men. He knew that. When we got married, he didn't ask if I was a virgin. Even though he was a virgin at the time, his familiarity with showing me porn meant he already knew about these things, and I definitely hadn't lied to him. He did say once, "There are some things I don't care about, really." I believed his sincerity then, and I knew he was referring to this incident.
I didn't feel sorry for him. I felt I had finally met the right person at the right time. The past was just experience; no one can predict the future. I couldn't, and I certainly couldn't when I was younger.
Sexual exclusivity follows love. First comes the exclusivity of love, then the exclusivity of sex. When love and sex are unified, sex is a part of love.
Let's start from university, where I first experienced love and sex.
It was at a prestigious university in northern China.

When I was in university, the atmosphere was already quite open. Students could openly date. Although cohabitation wasn't as common as it is now, a large proportion of those in relationships had sexual experience—it was an open secret. It wasn't that they weren't innocent; many students believed they would be with the person they loved in the future, that it was just a process. Add to that the mystery and physical maturity, and such a process was predictable.

I was a relatively late bloomer. I didn't have any early romances. It wasn't that no one liked me; besides, in junior and senior high school, people's aesthetic standards weren't as individualistic as they are now. Generally, people preferred girls who were academically gifted and well-behaved. I was relatively lucky; I was pursued by a few boys and secretly liked older boys, but my upbringing prevented me from openly pursuing them. I ignored others' advances, though my feelings stirred, I wouldn't let them surface.

Because I matured late, I had virtually no experience by the time I got to university. When my college classmates had late-night talks about boys, they were always enthusiastic, but they never mentioned the one they liked. They only listened to others' discussions. Every time his name reached my ears, it was like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. I don't know how I managed to remain calm after being shocked so many times. From this, I can conclude that the restraint I showed in suppressing my own thoughts and my composure in high school played a huge role in this.

My first love happened in college, and he took everything from me as a girl.
He was a classmate, not outstanding, and I didn't notice him at first. He wasn't particularly outgoing, nor was he my type.

Everyone was quiet during freshman year. However, the dorm leader, who claimed she would never find a boyfriend in college, started dating the athletic student from a wealthy family in the first semester. One day, she went on a date, telling us she went to her relative's house. She didn't return until 9 pm, causing the whole dorm to go out and look for her. They saw her returning hand in hand with that boy. That's when I realized she was incredibly hypocritical. I never liked her.

During my freshman year, my active participation in student union activities and military training quickly earned me a place in the student union's publicity department. At that time, I had many crushes, but a girl named Lei from the foreign languages department was my closest friend. She was the kind of beautiful woman with an elegant demeanor, the kind who would turn heads. Even when she admitted to liking a certain male teacher and a certain boy from a certain department, and frankly admitted that she could like several boys at the same time, I never shared my feelings with her; I kept my mouth shut.

In my sophomore year, my first love, let's call him Cheng, began pursuing me.

Initially, it was his fellow townsman from his hometown who openly pursued me. His hometown friend was a handsome guy, just a year younger than us, but a year older than Cheng. At a classmate's birthday party in my sophomore year, his hometown friend was also there. From the bright look in his eyes that day, even a fool could read the meaning. Later, Cheng's hometown friend asked Cheng for concert tickets, and he gave me two, which Cheng and I went to see. From that day on, Cheng started paying attention to me and began his relentless pursuit.

Actually, Cheng is a very humorous person, the kind with a dry sense of humor. Occasionally, he'd say something that would make someone laugh for ages. My ideal love is mutual; I especially hoped that one day the boy I liked would declare his love for me—a truly earth-shattering declaration. I would agree without hesitation, even skipping the thought of such reserved words. But after waiting so long, it was Cheng who said it. I wasn't satisfied, so I directly rejected him.
Cheng didn't give up. He used every possible opportunity to get close to me: saving me a seat, buying me Dove chocolates, sending flowers for my birthday, taking me to movies, barbecues—he did everything he could. (A word of advice to parents with college kids: if his spending noticeably increases, he's definitely in a relationship.)

To paraphrase a well-known saying: even a block of ice held in your heart will eventually warm up. As the boys I liked gradually got girlfriends, and those without girlfriends continued their casual relationships, I started paying more attention to Cheng. A person's good qualities are discovered; the more I got to know him, the better I realized he was a really good person, especially towards me. During a movie we watched together (it was an adult film), his hand wandered inside my clothes. I firmly pulled it out, but my heart was pounding. On the way back after the movie, he kissed me. The feeling was truly shocking. Cheng was 1.78 meters tall, looked a bit like Tony Leung, and had a slightly mischievous smile. His lips were soft and warm, and the moment he kissed me, I felt my heart stop. His hand continued inside my bra, completing what it hadn't done in the movie theater. I felt like I was melting under his touch. Back in my dorm, I felt like a seductive woman, but this seduction felt good.

The school building had a basement, a secluded place. It became our secret rendezvous spot. There was also the woods in the school's backyard; Cheng would take me back to the dorm before closing time at 10:30 every night. One night, as Cheng kissed me and gently ignited my passion with his caresses, soft breathing and moans came from deep within the woods, along with the rustling of leaves. Cheng and I both understood what was going on, and we stood there waiting to catch them in the act, until a man and a woman emerged from the woods. Unfortunately, they were wearing men's clothes over their heads and walking back in an embrace, so we couldn't see who they were.

In your twenties, a person's sex drive is very strong. Especially men. Cheng would touch me almost every night after self-study; he told me he masturbated frequently. He also told me a lot about the boys' dormitories; according to him, every boy masturbated.

It must be true. With mature bodies, the descriptions of sex in books and movies, fantasies about the opposite sex, and seeing so many beautiful and alluring women around every day, it's no wonder men's hormones are overflowing. Besides releasing it on the sports field, the only way to relieve themselves is through self-sufficiency. Even women, when reading novels like *Ruined City* or *White Deer Plain*, with their descriptions of sex, will experience strong sexual urges.

One night, after six months of this mutual torment, in the dark corner of the stairs after evening self-study, Cheng took my hand and put it inside his pants. I had never seen a male genital organ before; I hadn't watched porn at the time, and the male genitalia was a mystery to me. The moment my hand touched it, he ejaculated, covering my hand with a sticky fluid, and I didn't even understand what had happened. Cheng awkwardly pulled my hand away, repeatedly apologizing. I didn't feel he had done anything wrong; I didn't understand what was wrong with him. So, I not only forgave him without shame but also comforted him, saying it was nothing, I could just wash my hands. I didn't understand that he had ejaculated.

Two days later, during a rendezvous in the basement, Cheng had me lean against the stair railing, and he entered me from behind, making me a woman forever. I was a virgin then, but I didn't experience the pain described in novels. After being with three men, I knew Cheng's penis was still quite large, but there was no blood or pain. I didn't know when I lost my virginity. Later, I looked up some information that said strenuous exercise and cycling could rupture the hymen, but I wasn't sure. My first time was with Cheng, in the basement.

Our relationship became even closer. And a young body is an inexhaustible resource. We both had endless pleasure in this wonderful activity. Cheng always lasted very short a time, which I didn't understand. Every time, he excited me greatly. Halfway through, he would suddenly pull out, spraying his passion onto the walls of the school building, the stairwell, and into the woods, leaving me to endure the agonizing pain of incomplete climax. But each time, I pretended to be extremely happy, not wanting Cheng to think I had a high sex drive, nor wanting him to feel guilty. I faked orgasms. I even imitated the women in movies, twisting my body to match Cheng's movements.

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The Sexual Journey of a Charming Woman

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