A prostitute who was still a virgin

"How are you feeling?" she asked, leaning against the bedside table, a cigarette in her hand. The way she held the cigarette
—so natural, so fluid, as if it were her sixth finger—she seemed like a seasoned smoker.

"How are you feeling? Pretty good, right?... " she asked again, smoke drifting from her mouth—
the way she exhaled was so alluring, like an innocent little girl blowing bubbles—I almost wanted to rush forward... and

swallow the whole wad of smoke she exhaled.

That was our first time making love—damn... I was so nervous—even though I wasn't a virgin, making
love with a girl like her was really difficult.

Why was it difficult? ...Damn, because she was so—hot—.

Making love with a perfect goddess is a terrifying thing—maybe you won't think so.

"Having sex with a beautiful woman is just pure bliss... pure bliss... pure ecstasy—" That's what I used to
think
too—every time I saw a hot girl on the street, my lustful mind would quickly imagine stripping her naked, then using my mental fantasy to forcefully thrust my penis into her imaginary vagina, then thrust, thrust, and thrust again—until I ejaculated wave after
wave of imaginary semen...

But—that's just fantasy.

If one day you're as lucky as I am—damn, it's like winning the lottery—and can
have sex with your dream girl, you'll find—it's a contradiction.

It's really hard to describe…having sex with a goddess is like riding the most perfect, most beautiful, most untamed
horse in the world—and you're just an ordinary rider. You know you desperately want to ride that horse, to experience that
indescribable feeling of conquest… but at the same time you know you're not good enough, you don't have the ass to handle that horse…

Therefore—you'll have many, many worries… For example, you worry about losing face, about surrendering in front of her immediately—a woman
's appearance is always the best sexual technique; you worry about performing poorly, ruining her mood—you don't want to hurt the goddess
's heart; you also worry that your stinky penis is not worthy of her perfect vagina—you might even feel guilty,
a very heavy , very heavy guilt, as if you've ruined something perfect, something uniquely perfect…

Who is that goddess? …

She's a seventeen-year-old girl—with an angelic face.

When you see her smile, it makes your whole heart tremble wildly, you'll be swept away by a sense of happiness—as if
even if you were hit by a truck and your whole body was mangled, you would still smile, as if even if you accidentally drank a bottle of pesticide, you would feel
it's no big deal—after all, you possess her smile.

She's also a woman engaged in compensated dating—at 17, she always says she's a woman.

"After my first time with escorts..." she said, "I wasn't a girl anymore..."

But she was still a virgin—a real virgin.

"When I make love with my true love," she said jokingly, "I truly lose my
virginity, so I'm still a virgin."

"Hey—" she said again, her eyes still hazy, as if the thin white stick in her hand was marijuana,
not a cigarette. "I'm asking you a question—did you enjoy it? I care about the quality of my service..."

"Hmm..." I said, sitting next to her, "It felt pretty good..." Even though it was over in three minutes—uh... I mean,
from the moment I started undressing.

"Pretty good?" She smiled, then sniffled, like a primary school girl with a cold. She
handed me a cigarette, which had a faint, sweet taste of lip balm. "Bullshit... This is good? I haven't even felt anything yet..."

I took a drag, pretending to be calm.

"Hey—" she asked again, "Are you a virgin?"

"Hmm?" I said, handing her the cigarette back; I don't like the taste of menthol cigarettes. "Me? A virgin?"

"Yeah—is that so?"

"I'm thirty years old—" I'm not a virgin, but I don't have much sexual experience.

I've had two girlfriends. I started dating my first girlfriend in my freshman year of college. My first girlfriend didn't approve of premarital sex because of her religion, so we
maintained a simple love for three years—at most, we only masturbated each other, and she mostly helped me. However, later, I don't
know what happened, after she broke up with me, her personality changed drastically—from a reserved girl to a promiscuous woman who slept with everyone in the department.

Everyone said that she became like this because she was too hurt by breaking up with me—but God knows, she was the one who broke up with me—her becoming
a promiscuous woman had nothing to do with me.

My second girlfriend is my current girlfriend. We've been dating for four years… but we can count the number of times we've had sex on one hand
. We're in a long-distance relationship, seeing each other an average of twice a month—she always says she's too busy.

"What do you think?... " I said, sounding a little guilty. "How could I possibly be a virgin?"

She glanced at me sideways, a faint smile playing on her lips—but I couldn't decipher the meaning in her expression; perhaps it was trust, perhaps
indifference, perhaps mockery. She sniffed again.

"Want to do it again?" she asked, stubbing out her cigarette in the glass ashtray on the bedside table. Then she reached out and stroked
my penis. The way she stroked it was strange, as if she were treating it like a plush toy. "I quite like yours."

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A prostitute who was still a virgin

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