A woman's true story

I've read so many, but rarely have I seen anything written by a woman. I think you guys must want to see articles written by a woman, and I also want to earn some points, so on this lonely afternoon, I'll write about my one-night stand with an online friend for fun.

It was two years ago, I had just learned to use the internet, and I thought the online world was wonderful—full of allure, so new, and I was easily attracted. That man was the first person I gave my phone number to, and also the first person to call me. He spoke standard Mandarin, had a very pleasant voice, and I liked him a little.

At the time, my husband was out of town, and I was home alone. My husband and I had always been sexually compatible; we had many different ways of making love, and I was a woman who easily reached orgasm and enjoyed sex very much. He was lonely while he was away; sex was part of the reason, but the main reason was loneliness.

One day that winter, I went to the city where he lived for some business. After arriving, I sent him a text message. I didn't think about meeting up or anything; I just wanted to let him know I was there. He kept asking me to meet up, saying he wanted me to wait for him to get off work, but I didn't take it seriously. One night I was staying at a friend's house, chatting with him, when he called and asked where I was. I told him I was at a friend's place, and he asked for my exact address. I told him, and he said he would come over right away. I thought there was nothing wrong with meeting up, and I really didn't think about it that way, so I agreed. About 20 minutes later, he called me again to say he had arrived. Looking back, I was really bold. I told my friend I'd just come up in a minute, without a bag or phone, thinking it would only take ten minutes. So

I went downstairs and saw an Alto with its lights on. A somewhat thin man was sitting inside reading a book. I knocked on the window, and he opened it. I smiled at him naturally, and he smiled back and asked my name. He was quite polite, and I felt a little fond of him. Then he invited me to get in. I felt a bit awkward standing, so I got in and we chatted for a while. He said he'd take me for a drive. I hesitated a bit, but agreed anyway. I borrowed his phone to call a friend and then we went out together.

It was already past 10 p.m., and the flashing neon lights made me think a lot. The atmosphere in the car became somewhat ambiguous. The car stopped on the Third Ring Road. Outside was a small grove of trees, dark and barely visible. He reached out and took my hand. I let him hold it and listened to him talk. His hand was delicate, but rather small. The car lights were off, and the neon lights outside flickered. Suddenly, he very casually touched my face. I was instantly captivated. My heart was so cold and yearning, and my desire exploded. I pressed my face against his and began kissing his earlobe and forehead. I felt his rapid breathing, which excited me. I leaned into his arms, pulled up his clothes, and kissed his chest. My hands wandered into his waistband and grabbed his penis. I felt it was already hard, but it was quite small. I was a little disappointed; compared to my husband's, his was much smaller. But I was too embarrassed to stop, and I couldn't stop anyway. I thought that even if I stopped, he would probably rape me, and besides, I wanted it too. I pressed my face against his knee, wanting to kiss his penis, but my hands couldn't undo his pants. He unzipped them himself quite quickly. When I buried my face between his thighs, it felt clean, with no unpleasant smell. Without hesitation, I took his penis into my mouth. He immediately made a loud noise. I rarely heard men moan during sex, which excited me. (Back then, I hadn't been with many men, so I was quite bold and hadn't considered any diseases or anything like that. I wouldn't dare now.) My oral skills have always been good. I took his penis into my mouth and licked it with my tongue, moving it up and down with the tip of my tongue, sucking on his foreskin, gently biting his glans, and licking his urethra and coronal sulcus. Because his penis was relatively small, it was effortless for me to kiss it for about 20 minutes. Zhong, he kept grabbing my breasts, caressing them, pinching my nipples, which felt quite good. He kept making sounds. I was a little tired, so I sat up. By then, his seat was already pulled up to his knees, his pants were down to his ankles, and my clothes were open. The scene on the bus was lewd.

I saw a bottle of mineral water on the bus, picked it up, took a few sips to rinse my mouth, and the temperature in my mouth cooled down. Then I took a mouthful of water and suddenly took his penis into my mouth. He immediately squeezed my breasts tightly. The water in my mouth flowed and swirled between his penises as I kissed him. I don't know how he felt, but I think it must have felt pretty good because his grip on my breasts became very heavy, and his hand also reached down to my lower body, which was already wet. He rolled over and quickly unbuttoned my pants, hurriedly trying to take them off. Because it was winter and I was wearing thick clothes, it wasn't very convenient for him, as there was a seat between us. He quickly placed my chair on his knees, climbed on top of me, and kissed me. I quickly took off my pants, and he inserted his penis and started moving. He seemed very excited and ejaculated shortly after. It was disappointing.

But soon, it seemed like only a short time before he got an erection again. This time he carried me to his seat, lay down, and let me straddle him, letting me move on my own. Because it wasn't very enjoyable, my memory isn't very clear. I only remember that he ejaculated again very quickly, and I didn't reach orgasm either time, which was a pity for me, because I'm a woman who almost always orgasms during sex. After we finished, he got dressed while I was still getting dressed. Suddenly, a police car drove past our car for a long distance, then turned around and stopped behind us. I was startled and panicked. He quickly got out of the car, the police asked him something, and then left. I got dressed and got out of the car too. He hugged me contentedly, gazing at me for a long time, then picked me up and spun me around. At that moment, I felt much more satisfied than during sex.

We never saw each other again after that. His QQ avatar would occasionally light up in my friends list. He told me that he thought I was really good at sex and even invited me to play. However, because his sexual ability wasn't great, and because I wasn't so clueless about the internet anymore, I never wanted to see him again. You'll probably laugh and say it's because of the former, but I really don't want any more one-night stands. They're meaningless, dangerous (I was terrified for a long time after that incident), and you might not even meet a good partner, at least not for me. It's safer and more reassuring to be with my husband, doing whatever I want. How great is that?
Writing these articles these past few days has brought back many memories, so today I'll share another experience with you!

Back then, I was still in school. One Saturday night, a close friend and I went dancing outside of school. After the dance, a friend I knew before invited us to dinner. I had a few drinks that day, and I felt a bit adventurous. After dinner, he invited us to his place, and I didn't object, so I went with my friend. I had known this guy for a while; he had pursued me, and I had a slight crush on him, but nothing had really happened. Although I knew something was bound to happen at his place that day, I secretly hoped something would happen.

He was a paper wholesaler. Since his warehouse wasn't far from the dance hall, he took us there. My friend went in and immediately lay down on his bed, feeling dizzy. I was also a bit dizzy. When I saw him go to the restroom, I followed him. My intention was to go to the restroom too, but I was so dizzy that I couldn't move when I got to a pile of paper. I just leaned against the pile of paper and waited for him. When he came out, he walked up to me and asked why I was so drunk. I immediately hugged him. He didn't seem to react for a moment, but he quickly hugged me back and pressed his face against mine. I'm most afraid of being kissed in the ear, even if it's just someone breathing on it. With the alcohol, I became crazy. I started kissing his face, his ears, his hair, his neck, and soon I was kneeling down beneath him. He unbuckled his belt himself, and I immediately took his penis into my mouth. I forgot that he had just come out of the restroom. But probably because he drank too much beer, there wasn't any particularly unpleasant smell. (By the way, usually after men drink beer, especially after going to the restroom many times, their genitals don't smell much.) (I knelt and kissed him repeatedly for a while. He couldn't hold back any longer and picked me up, putting my legs on his waist. This was a position I really liked. I remember I was wearing a white cheongsam with lotus flowers printed on it. When my legs parted, the cheongsam was lifted to the sides. (I've never forgotten this scene and often think that if I ever have the chance to direct an adult film, I'll definitely include this scene.) He was fucking me very hard, and I remember my friend was lying behind a pile of papers. I didn't dare to make too much noise, so I could only grit my teeth and endure the intense thrusts, making unpleasant whimpering sounds. His penis was also quite small and short, but the thrusting was quite powerful. However, it didn't feel like it penetrated very deeply, and there wasn't that kind of painful yet exciting feeling of being torn apart. But because of the powerful thrusting, it was still very enjoyable. However, that position didn't really rub the G-spot. It was just that the pleasure of thrusting was very intense. I guess that position was too stimulating, because he finished in less than 10 minutes. I felt very unsatisfied.

After we finished, I went to the bathroom. Later, my friend told me that she knew we were having sex, but she was just pretending to be asleep. After he finished, he climbed on top of my friend and tried to kiss her and touch her breasts. My friend pushed him away.

We were tired and wanted to sleep. My friend slept on the bed, and he made a bed out of a pile of papers. It was quite soft, so we slept there. But before we could fall asleep, he got energetic again. He pinched me hard, pressing his long nails against my nipples and body, scratching my genitals, and making me kiss him for a while. Then he rolled over on top of me and finished in one position. He tormented me a lot, but I didn't reach orgasm, which was incredibly annoying.

He kept pulling my breasts until dawn, then woke up again and made me kiss his penis for a while. Then he made me sit on him, but unfortunately, his penis was a bit soft, and it kept falling out when I moved hard, which was very disappointing. This time, he ejaculated much later, but it wasn't very satisfying for me.

Later, he became my friend. A friend I occasionally call to confide in, but I avoid having sex with him; it's too boring.

After writing all this, many people might think I'm a bad woman. I can't say for sure whether I should be categorized as good or bad, but I have a respectable job, a happy family, and I love my family very much. The reason I'm writing this is because my husband isn't home, so I'm venting online. But everything I'm saying is based on my true experiences. I'm a girl from Sichuan, and I guess Sichuan people are naturally fiery.

(2003-12-22)
Actually, many years ago, I was a woman who hated sex and would cry as soon as I had sex with my husband. Thanks to his "training," I went from hating sex to enjoying it, able to reach countless orgasms in one session, even anal orgasms. He let me experience a lot of pleasure that others can't. Also, hot girls have legs, right? Her good figure is all thanks to Beckham's virility in bed, so my figure has always been well-maintained, which is undeniably related. If any of you encounter a girlfriend who isn't cooperative, feel free to ask me for advice.

Before I was with my husband, I had a first boyfriend. We got together when I was 16. Back then, we had plenty of opportunities; we often slept in each other's arms. After all, we were young and naturally had sexual urges. However, knowing the importance of virginity, I never dared to do anything with him. Besides, I didn't know anything about sex. At most, I would let him climb on top of me and play with me. I remember that day was a summer noon. I was wearing long stockings, and we were cuddling and playing around as usual. He climbed on top of me and played with me, kissing me. Later, he couldn't resist and took out his penis and rubbed it against my penis. By then, I was used to this kind of game and wasn't afraid of him. I also liked him a lot and wanted to make him happy. As we played, that habitual limpness returned (now I realize it was because my hymen was too strong, so it hadn't broken despite playing that kind of game many times before). But that day it just broke, and I didn't even feel it. I only knew that I was trembling all over from the pain, and because of the pain, I didn't even feel him penetrating me. I was completely stunned and
didn't react at all. It was a long time later, when it was time to go to school, that we got up and I realized there was blood everywhere, a lot of it, bright red. I was completely dumbfounded.

We dated for three years and had sex often, but I never reached orgasm. However, I really enjoyed having sex with him, simply because I loved him and was willing to fulfill all his requests. Back then, sex was very simple, and I knew very little about it. There weren't many tricks; the most common was the old-fashioned missionary position.

The most memorable time was by the river in my hometown, one summer evening. We found a secluded spot. I waited for him on the bank while he went to bathe. After a while, he climbed naked onto the bank, hugged me, and since I was wearing a skirt, he put me in the grass by the river, lifted my skirt to cover my face, and pulled down my underwear before having sex with me. The grass by the river was a bit sharp, and I was a little worried that someone might see him, so he finished in a few strokes. Then I couldn't find my underwear, so I had to go home naked, thankfully it was night.

Later, he went to Beijing for school, and we finally broke up. I didn't see him for ten years. This year, he returned to my hometown, and coincidentally, I happened to pass by his house that day. I was on the bus and saw him for less than a minute. My tears streamed down my face for my past love. Ten years of separation, a vast and unforgettable separation, I try not to think about him, but I can't forget him.

Fortunately, God loved me and gave me a husband who loves me. My husband is truly wonderful. Although he knows everything about my relationship with my first love, he has never used his body to hurt me in our ten years together, which touches me deeply. So I think men should be more magnanimous; your woman will be incredibly grateful.

Of all the men I've been with, my husband is the best. He's 1.72 meters tall and weighs around 150 pounds, while I'm only 158 meters tall and weigh about 98 pounds. I love lying in his arms, being affectionate and playful. I also love the feeling of his weight on top of me; it makes me feel safe, and there's a slight sense of being masochistic. I think everyone has some masochistic or submissive tendencies, and I lean more towards the former. In our more than ten years of sex life, apart from the beginning when I didn't really like him, we're now increasingly fulfilled, with more and more variety in our sexual experiences.

My first time with him was because he had been drinking and was pretending to be drunk. Despite my strong resistance, he forced himself on me. His penis was huge, the biggest I'd ever seen. Although I wasn't a virgin at the time, we hadn't had much sex, and the pain was excruciating. It felt like I was being torn apart. I burst into tears, kicking and hitting, but there was nothing I could do. There was no pleasure to be had; I just wanted to die. We were both young then; he was only 19, and his libido was high. He often came to see me. Since I lived alone, it was convenient, and he didn't hold back. He would often take me to his room whenever I was alone and have sex with me. His stamina was incredible; he could go on for as long as he wanted, and he wouldn't ejaculate if he didn't want to, including in our current life.

Our sex life has been very varied, including having plums on the penis, smoking on the anus, using various vibrators, and many different scenarios, which I'll talk about in the next post.

These past few days, because of the novelty and the encouragement from everyone's comments, I've been writing whenever I have free time. I'm really tired. I've been asking for advice on how to add pictures, but no one has given me any guidance. If someone could guide me, I would definitely provide a better guide. I would also appreciate any encouragement from the moderators; it would give me more confidence.

December 22, 2003 -
I originally planned to edit together some scenes from a short film my husband and I made to accompany this article. However, I don't know how to do it, and yesterday I sent the photos to a friend who said the photo quality was poor and that it required free storage space, which I don't know how to do. I feel it's a shame I can't use images, so I'll have to postpone writing this chapter today. If anyone is familiar with this process, please send me a message. I can show you the photos first, and then you can help me add images, okay? But please don't lie to me.

Yesterday we were talking about the game we played, "Baby Eating Plums," which happened many years ago. Back then, I was already quite sexually aroused. One day, we were playing around again. My husband loves looking at my body, so he stripped me naked and held me in his arms, touching me all over, making me itchy, both physically and emotionally. As he touched me, he touched my genitals. He leaned down and rubbed his face between my legs, making me laugh
. I couldn't help but try to push him away, but he held onto my waist tightly. My waist has been 1.9 feet for over ten years, and it fit him perfectly, making me even more itchy. I giggled and shook myself, trying to shake him off. He held me down even tighter, preventing me from moving, and then stuck his tongue inside, tracing the area between my labia. (Speaking of which, I remembered something. Although my husband has always been very knowledgeable about sex, he only learned where a woman's clitoris is after many years with me. Before that, he had always thought...) Because it's a rather protruding spot inside the vagina, I think most men probably know where it is, unlike him who's so clueless. His tongue was sticky and wet, licking me until my heart tightened and I cried out in pain. Then he slid his tongue down to the front of my vagina and forcefully pushed it in. His tongue wasn't long, of course, relative to my vagina, but the feeling of his tongue moving around inside was a completely different sensation compared to the feeling of a penis thrusting in and out. At the same time, he gently stroked my clitoris with his fingertips. (I think if you're stroking the G-spot, remember to dip your fingers in some saliva or vaginal secretions, otherwise it will only hurt and you won't get pleasure.) It felt incredibly good, and my vagina couldn't help but start to tighten and contract automatically, which was a sign that I was about to reach orgasm.

He quickly let go of me, pulled me into his arms, and gently stroked my breasts. My breasts have always been very sensitive, and I like to stroke them when I masturbate. He gently calmed me down. Suddenly, he noticed a plate of plums nearby and said, "Let your vagina eat a plum for me." I was a little embarrassed, but he said it was nothing, so I agreed. He dangled a washed plum around my vagina for a while, then rubbed it against my G-spot. He then placed it at the entrance of my vagina and rolled it back and forth like he was teasing me, which only made me want it to go inside. Knowing I wanted it, he forcefully shoved it into my vagina. The plum went in easily, and I felt a round, bulging thing inside. He told me to contract further, and with a gentle contraction, the plum reached deep inside. I felt excited and couldn't help but push it out again, squeezing it to the entrance and then contracting it back in. The plum was moving up and down inside, round and firm. Slippery, slippery, the friction and squeezing of the tender flesh inside my vagina felt fun and pleasurable. After a while, I contracted my vagina, and it came out effortlessly. He picked it up and laughed, saying I was really good at it. Then he put the plum in my mouth and wanted me to eat it. I immediately smelled the faint fishy smell from my vagina on it and quickly smiled and turned my head away, still a little shy. Now, if he really wanted me to eat it, I would definitely do so. (I've always felt that sex is a very clean thing, as long as both people are healthy and clean. Reproductive organs are also the most beautiful gift the Creator has given us; they are beautiful.)

He then put the plum back in my mouth and pounced on me, inserting his big penis. His penis, pressing against the plum, pushed it deep into my vagina. His penis vibrated all the way in, making the plum feel incredibly stimulating. Combined with the powerful thrusts, it was breathtaking. I responded to him, twisting and turning vigorously. Before long, we both reached orgasm.
After writing this chapter yesterday, I've been thinking about what to write next. I asked a friend what he wanted to read, and he asked if I had any more outdoor experiences. After thinking about it, today I'll tell you about the story of making love with my husband in the stream in our hometown many years ago.

Before I get to that, I remembered what my husband told me about making love with his ex-girlfriend in the grass. At that time, his girlfriend was working in a small town in Guangzhou, and he went to visit her. They went to a mountain together, and he said the grass on that mountain was taller than a person, so people inside couldn't see each other at all. They quickly rolled into the grass. He didn't tell me the specific details, but in my memory, it was like watching "Red Sorghum." I only saw the wind blowing, the grass undulating, a scene of spring in the grass, and two naked bodies moving and thrusting. I've always thought that scene was classic. It was beautiful, but there was a detail he told me later: he said that after they finished, he urinated inside her vagina.

Let's talk about us. It's a long time ago, and I've forgotten many of the details. I only remember it was a summer evening in my hometown. My family was against our relationship. Although I lived alone, I was afraid they would see me out. So, we waited until after midnight before sneaking out. Naturally, we went to a secluded spot. We sat on a small stone bridge in the town for a while, watching the clear river reflecting the moonlight. He kept saying it was hot and wanted to go swimming, asking me to come too. I was too scared because I couldn't swim, and also because of the rumors about water ghosts. Legend has it that he said he wasn't afraid, and half-pulled, half-carried me down the stone steps along the riverbank. There were stone steps for washing clothes that extended into the water. He went down first, then carried me in. As soon as I touched the water, I screamed. That day I was wearing a green, flowing pinafore dress and a white blouse. The hem of the dress floated in the water, becoming heavy, as if someone was pulling me down. All the legends about water ghosts came back to life. I clung tightly to his neck, begging him to take me up quickly. He held my waist, kissed my face, and kept telling me not to be afraid, not to be afraid, that he was holding me. He said, "Try it, stand up, the water isn't deep." With great difficulty, I mustered my courage, gripped his back tightly, and put my feet in. The water was indeed shallow; my feet gently touched the stone steps, and my dress floated on the surface like a flower.

Because of the buoyancy of the water, I felt light and floaty, my feet always seemed unsteady, always drifting upwards. He said he would teach me the breaststroke, that I should glide my arms to the sides and kick my legs to the sides. He held me by the waist and stood between my legs. I tried to glide to the sides like that, but I was clumsy, and my legs kept kicking haphazardly. He held me tighter, and I realized his penis was already hard. Suddenly, he pulled down my underwear and threw it on the shore. Ignoring my protests, he held me by the waist with one hand. When he released one hand, I was startled and scrambled my legs to clamp his. With his other hand, he pulled his penis out of his large cotton underwear, quickly and accurately found the right spot, and thrust it in. A cool stream of water flowed into my warm vagina. My body instinctively contracted, and my head, which had been tilted forward, fell into the water. Water filled my nose and mouth. I coughed repeatedly, and he quickly grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me up. But I still didn't dare let go of him, keeping my legs tightly clamped around him, looking quite disheveled. But he still didn't let go, holding me a little tighter and making me put my legs down. I reluctantly let go of my legs and immediately felt the buoyancy of the water. I felt lightheaded and couldn't exert any strength. No matter how he moved behind me, I could only let him move. He seemed to hold me effortlessly, but at the same time, when he entered, he seemed to lack strength. I couldn't feel the impact of that physical struggle. I could only feel the water going in and out of my vagina along his penis, up and down. As soon as he pulled out, the water gushed out, and as soon as he entered, the water immediately went in. I always felt that this position was not very useful.

He probably thought so too, and pulled me to face him again. Since my feet couldn't touch the ground, my legs naturally parted and clamped around his. One advantage of making love in the water is that changing positions is effortless and can be done lightly. This put me in the same position as when we make love standing up, but he probably didn't find it as strenuous as holding me while standing. By this time, my skirt was already soaked, and he lifted it up, tightly wrapping it around my upper body, leaving my lower body completely naked. He put his penis in again, trying to move it vigorously, but he couldn't get it to work. I tried to rub my G-spot against him, but it felt like I was being lifted up by the water, without that solid feeling, and I didn't find it very pleasurable. After a few thrusts, we gave up on making love and instead held each other tightly in the moonlight in the water, kissing passionately. That felt much better. Then, hand in hand, we walked through the quiet streets back to our little house where we secretly lived together.
I was worried later that the river water might not be clean, but luckily the town was so simple and clean that nothing happened
to me. However, one of my girlfriends wasn't so lucky; she contracted an STD while swimming in the pool, haha. (While writing this, I specifically called my husband to verify some details. I also read some of what I wrote to him, and unexpectedly, we both got excited and had a wonderful time making love. I never thought that phone sex would become a major part of my sex life. After the climax, I'm sitting here typing. This feeling is a bit strange but also a bit good.)
2003-12-24

What should I say today? I have so many wonderful memories that I want to share with everyone. Thinking and thinking, my thoughts suddenly returned to a night six years ago. At that time, I was still in school. My boyfriend, who is now my husband, was in my hometown, and I was in another place. We usually saw each other once a month. That time, some things delayed me from going home for a long time. It was a Saturday night, and coincidentally, none of my roommates were there; I was alone.

That day, I got a bit upset. It all started with one of my friends. She had a boyfriend at school, and I don't know if it was because they were still in the early stages of a relationship or what, but every few days the guy would sneak into our dorm room. Back then, everyone had a curtain to hide their beds, but this girl's was a thick, floral cotton curtain. When she pulled it closed, it was like entering another world; we couldn't see anything from the outside. And now, they were treating it like their wedding bed, always huddled on that small bed, rocking back and forth. Unfortunately, we lived in the largest plastic room in the school, which was quite empty. All our beds were lined up in a V-shape. That day, they ignored the fact that there were other people in the dorm during the day and went in to make love. The bed started shaking, and when it shook, all the other beds started shaking too. We were used to it by now. That day, I was taking a nap when they woke me up. I was furious and sat up, ready to yell at them. But as soon as I sat up (I slept on the top bunk, and she slept on the bottom), I saw through the gap in the curtain that their blankets had slipped down to their feet, and they were naked and entwined together. The guy was sticking his little butt out and vigorously working on me. I was terrified and didn't dare make a sound. I obediently lay back down, letting my bed sway like a small boat in a storm, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, enduring the wind and rain. I swayed along with them, making my heart race. Thinking about that feeling now still makes me chuckle. That

night, they both agreed not to come back, so I happily ate snacks, listened to music, and read novels in the empty dorm room. When I was done, and it was almost time to turn off the lights, I quickly climbed into bed, found the red candles I had bought earlier, lit them, and continued my late-night reading session.

That day, I was reading a popular romance novel that was trending at the local bookstores. I was completely engrossed. It contained subtle sexual descriptions, just the right amount, sparking my imagination. As I read, my thoughts drifted back to the two naked bodies I'd seen during the day, making me feel a surge of desire. It was summer, and I was wearing a rather conservative nightgown. Then, thinking no one was around, I took it off, leaving me only in my bra and panties. I lay naked behind my curtains, continuing to read. As I read, I lost track of what I was reading. I stopped, staring blankly at the red candlelight. By then, I had already learned to masturbate, and whenever I wanted, I would unhesitatingly use anything around me that I could. I gently slipped my hand inside my bra and pulled out my nipple, letting the bra's two sides lift it high and make it stand erect (my nipples have never been inverted; my husband says it's because he kisses them well, and I think it's also partly due to my own caresses). I dipped my middle finger in saliva and gently stroked it; it quickly became erect. I was delighted, so I pinched and squeezed it with my thumb and middle finger, making it feel a little painful and itchy, but the pleasure wasn't strong enough. Suddenly, I thought of the red candle beside me, lit by my pillow. I held it up and saw the melted red wax inside shimmering and glistening in the candlelight. I had an urge to kiss it. I licked it with my tongue, sucked on it, and then without hesitation, turned the candle upside down and dripped the wax onto my nipples. The wax was hot on my breasts, and I couldn't help but moan. But it only fueled my desire. I dripped a second drop, this time onto my nipples. Wow, it was so exciting, but really hot. Yet it was also so pleasurable. I frantically turned the candle upside down, the flames licking high, burning out wax that dripped onto my breasts and nipples. My breasts were red with wax, and the burned areas were also red, making the white areas look even whiter and the red areas even redder.

I took a small mirror and looked at my naked breasts in the mirror. It was so lewd and made me even more aroused. I pulled down my underwear, holding the mirror in one hand and moving it down while holding a candle in the other, dripping it over my chest and lower abdomen. I sat up, put down the mirror, and used one hand to stroke my thigh, pinching it hard. My whole body ached, and each pinch made it hurt more. Then I dripped more candle wax onto my thigh, slowly moving towards the inside, dripping it everywhere. Finally, I reached the root of my thigh. I placed the mirror between my legs, parted my labia with one hand, and dripped the candle wax inside. It didn't hurt much, partly because my whole body ached, and partly because the temperature inside was higher. I then looked in the mirror and accurately dripped the wax onto my clitoris. Even though I had already dripped a lot, I couldn't help but cry out. My whole body trembled. The feeling was indescribable. I finally couldn't hold back any longer. I slammed the candle out with my hand, frantically grabbing my breast and twisting it hard with one hand, while the other hand held the candle, rubbing it against my vulva and between my labia. Waves of pleasure washed over me. I shoved the candle inside, repeatedly thrusting it in and out of my vagina with my hand. The pleasure was so intense that I quickly rolled over, shoving the entire candle inside. I covered my vulva with one hand, still holding my breast with the other, and vigorously shook my hips from side to side on the bed. I quickly reached orgasm, the extreme pleasure making me make a sound worse than crying.

Later, when I was washing the blankets, my classmate asked me why there was so much candle wax. I said I accidentally knocked the candle over, and it almost caught fire. As I write this, I suddenly think of Tian Zhen's song, which goes something like, "A fire burned me, leaving me utterly helpless." It's very late on December 25,
2003.

I didn't intend to write anything today, because I had written over 2,000 words during the day, but a sudden power outage wiped them all out, which is infuriating. However, seeing so many people habitually checking my new posts only to be disappointed, and feeling the concern from those I love and who love me in the middle of the night, I still couldn't help but get up and write a few more words.

The weather today is awful—cold, damp, and gloomy. Sichuan weather is always like this, foggy and oppressive. My mood is down too, a far cry from my usual cheerful self, replaced by a melancholic sadness. Before, when I was in a bad mood, I would always cry my heart out into my pillow, or watch porn or read erotic novels to release my emotions. Today is different. I'm sitting in front of my computer, pouring my heart out through words, telling you my past stories, sharing my feelings, because I know some people care about me and love me. I am happy because of your love. Because I'm not online today and so many people are concerned, because of my husband's late-night greeting, I'm now very happy. I'm smiling as I write these words, hoping you can feel the same happiness as me. I'm happy because I'm simple; I always feel that there are more beautiful things in the world. Whether you're happy or unhappy, life goes on, so I try my best to find everything that can make me happy.

I remember that year, when I was in school, it was a Saturday, and I wasn't in a good mood. So I went to a dance hall not far from the school with my sisters. It was a place we often went to, partly because it was close by, and partly because it was relatively cheap. Back then, we were all students, and our spending power was limited. We didn't know how to make money like you describe students today.

I found a dimly lit spot to sit down. I didn't really want to dance; I just wanted to feel my loneliness amidst the noise. Several people asked me to dance, but I refused. I sat there like a dreamy little girl, not even knowing what I was thinking. After a while, the intermission music started, and the powerful metallic sound was exhilarating. I've never liked hot dancing, but I enjoyed the atmosphere. Just as I was getting into it, I suddenly felt someone pinch my butt. I turned around angrily, but the light was dim, and I couldn't see who it was, so I remained silent. After a while, I was pinched again. I was really annoyed and whirled around. To my surprise, I saw the face of an old woman, I couldn't tell if she was in her 30s or 40s. To this day, I can still remember that face, even in the dim light, with its thick foundation and bright red, smiling lips—it was terrifying. I'm afraid I'll dream about it when I go to sleep. Actually, I've always been a rather obedient girl, a bit timid, and I didn't know who she was, so I kept quiet. The intermission had ended, and Saxe's "Going Home" started playing. Just then, a tall, handsome guy in a white suit came over and asked me to dance. I quickly stood up, wondering if he was gay or just thought my butt felt bouncy. He squeezed it once and then again—really!

The guy seemed nice; he had a faint scent, not perfume, but a masculine, alluring aroma. The most captivating thing about him was his clean, natural body odor—I've always thought so. But he just kept his head held high, a very standard posture, unlike the other men in the dance hall who always pulled people into their arms right away. I usually hate that kind of thing, but that day I was in a bad mood, and his manner made me doubt my own charm. I thought to myself, "Let's see if you can handle this!"

I casually pulled my hand away from his gentle grip, instead using my thumb, index finger, and middle finger to pinch his hand, like a delicate, orchid-like gesture. As I pulled away, I seemed to unintentionally tickle his palm with my long pinky fingernail. He didn't react much. The dance hall was incredibly crowded that day, packed with people. We were squeezed together in the middle, and every now and then, someone would jostle me, and I'd suddenly throw myself into his arms. I'd take the opportunity to press my face against his and breathe a sweet breath into his ear, but I didn't make it obvious. He, too, would often be jostled and suddenly press himself against me. After a while, his grip on me tightened a little. This got me going, and when I was jostled again, I swayed my breasts vigorously in front of him to the beat of the music. I was wearing a tight-fitting long dress that day, revealing my curves, while he wore a thin shirt under his suit jacket. We could easily feel each other's body heat. His grip tightened again, but he didn't react much else. I was a little annoyed, wondering what was wrong with me today. I was even more defiant. Taking advantage of being bumped again, I threw myself into his arms, my chest swaying and my buttocks wiggling wildly. This time, he couldn't take it and hugged me tightly. Only then did I realize his penis was already hard. No wonder he kept such a distance; he was probably afraid I'd feel it. My heart pounded with excitement. I pressed my face against his, closed my eyes, and followed his rhythm. Because the dance hall was crowded, we weren't really dancing but just strolling around. After a while, when I opened my eyes, I saw he had led me to a corner, the darkest spot. The dance hall always turned off all the lights when playing certain dance music, and at those times, women would often scream there, arousing all sorts of fantasies. (The End)

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