Hong Kong sex party after breakup

To escape the heartbreak that followed my breakup, I took two days off and came to Hong Kong to escape the emotional winter by eating, drinking, and shopping.

I left work early and took an evening flight to Hong Kong. Sitting on the airport express, watching the dark blue night rushing past the window, my reflection mingled with the glass, creating a picture; my thoughts were far from calm. I thought of Ben, and all the little things from the past three years.

After checking in, it was only a little past 9 pm. I strolled up the slightly steep slope of Lan Kwai Fong, knowing that without alcohol tonight, I would have a very hard time falling asleep. Pushing open the door of this gay bar, the noisy sounds and the mixed smells of cigarettes and alcohol hit me. The super bitchy owner and the doorman were still the same, rambling on in English about a bunch of rules, which I nodded with a frown; the owner, who had been wearing tight clothes for years, also looked older. How come he's still a bitch even though he's older? His picky and disgusted face is just like before. Some things seem to never change.

There weren't many customers, probably because it was still early and it was a weekday. I chose a corner to sit down, looking around at the people, completely blank-minded, smoking, drinking, and spacing out. Occasionally, a few people would exchange glances with me, but I was probably too exhausted to even manage a smile, my face was too sour, and the sparks in their eyes would quickly extinguish after a direct confrontation. Haha, I suddenly found myself enjoying this "keep away" role-playing game. Only in unfamiliar places could I play dumb like this, without having to be so formal.

"Drinking alone?" a voice sounded from behind me. Hmm, a strange accent in Mandarin? I could tell it wasn't from Hong Kong, and I was sure it wasn't from Taiwan or mainland China; a foreigner?

"Yes!" I turned around and looked up. An Eastern-looking man with a big, smiling beard raised his glass and invited me to a toast.

"From Taiwan?" He walked over to me, lightly tapping my glass, which I hadn't yet raised, with his, and sat down boldly in front of me. "I'm Japanese, you know. I lived in Beijing for two years." "Your Beijing dialect is pretty good." It was true, with a slight Japanese accent, but by a foreigner's standard, it was excellent. Chinese is so hard to learn.

"I just can't learn Cantonese or Taiwanese, haha!" He laughed ruthlessly, then went on and on about his frequent business trips between Taiwan, China, and Hong Kong. I listened to him most of the time, smiling slightly as I watched his animated expression. He was about 180 cm tall and weighed around 85 kg, with a round, Japanese-looking face with single eyelids, thick curly hair, and a tanned, muscular build that reflected his love for outdoor sports. He kept trying to find things to talk about, using gestures to compensate for his limited Chinese. His large, thick hands danced in front of me, reflected in my slightly tipsy eyes, the afterimages forming a web that sent a strange, gentle feeling rushing to my head.

After we started chatting, using a Japanese-style bilingual (English and Chinese) interface and understanding about 95% of the language, I learned his name was Hiroto, he was 37 years old, and he owned a garment and fabric trading company in Osaka. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he steered the conversation directly to the topic of "sex," beginning to describe what he called "wild and open" sexual experiences. He knew several easygoing sex partners in the places he frequented for business; if he was traveling alone, he would usually hook up with someone first, then arrange to have sex with someone from his "playmate list." The phrase "hook up with someone first," uttered word by word in his Mandarin, struck me like an arrow, making my blood boil, my crotch bulge, and my heart race. I blushed and avoided Hiroto's sharp gaze.

"Um," I managed to stammer, my ears burning, "Are you inviting me?" Hiroto exhaled a puff of smoke, smiling and nodding. "I saw you as soon as you came in. I like Chinese people like you..." His smile widened, "I want to take you back to the hotel to sleep, to try something wild." It was so direct! This was a Japanese man! Aren't Japanese people usually polite and reserved? This guy skipped the usual pleasantries and went straight to the heart of the matter for those seeking solace at the bar: "Who comes to a bar to drink? Of course, they come to find someone!" He was probably a friendly and enthusiastic "Japanese bear," though I've never been a big fan of bears, and hiroto is a type I've never experienced before! Is this okay? Is it fun? Is it dangerous? Will there be multiple partners? ...A string of chaotic thoughts, accelerated by alcohol, roared through my mind. I hesitated, my mouth dry, unable to utter a word.

"I really like you," Hiroto said, his round eyes fixed on me. "Really! My hotel is nearby." I smiled and remained silent for a while before forcing out a reply: "Okay!" I felt a sense of heroic sacrifice. Suddenly, I remembered something: "Do you have condoms?" Hiroto's eyes widened, and he smiled with an expression that said, "Oh my god, why would you ask such a stupid question!" "Of course I do!" He put his arm around me. "I have enough condoms for you to use up in your entire life, um, um, and many, many different things." The grammar was strange, but I understood. It meant: something unexpected might happen, and how should I deal with it? But I really didn't have a chance to think. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I had been "grabbed" by this Japanese bear and dragged out into the street.

All the way, he held my shoulder tightly, his other hand gripping mine; his large, slightly damp, sweaty palm evoked familiar memories. We walked side by side past shop windows in Central, looking at our reflections in the large panes of glass. For a fleeting moment, I seemed to see a figure that was no longer there. My eyes involuntarily welled up with tears. I knew I was a very rational and practical person when it came to emotions, and I was unlikely to get seasick and lose control in such a familiar romantic setting. The heartache I felt at this moment was probably just because I was too reluctant to let go of that relationship. Now, I was about to have my first one-night stand with a stranger after our separation, and a pang of sadness welled up in my heart. But I knew very well that tonight was not a serious dream, just a game!

We entered the small, understated yet exquisitely elegant famous hotel in Central. He led me to the VIP floor, which wasn't surprising. Hong Kong always treated wealthy Japanese people with great courtesy, so Hiroto must be a regular customer. Entering his room, he, with his ever-smiling demeanor, gestured for me to wash up first, then inexplicably lit a cigarette and started making phone calls. I couldn't understand the first two calls, which were in Japanese; they were probably business matters. But it's rare for people to discuss business so late at night! As I took off my coat to prepare for a shower, I suddenly heard the hotel's English name several times, and it became clear: Hiroto wasn't talking about business, and what followed wouldn't be a one-on-one game between me and Hiroto; what I was about to face was a multi-person, all-night battle!

Sitting blankly on the sofa, I began to feel a little apprehensive. The "sacrificial" passion I felt in the bar had completely vanished. Emboldened by alcohol, my courage waned as the effects wore off, and I started looking for an excuse to leave. Wearing my hotel bathrobe, preoccupied with my thoughts, I absentmindedly and restlessly flipped through TV channels with the remote, waiting for Hiroto to come out of the shower so I could politely say goodbye.

The door opened, and for the first time, I finally saw his figure clearly! Although Hiroto was still wearing light blue boxer briefs.

Hiroto could be described as having a "broad back and thick waist" in Chinese terms, right? Not the result of rigorous gym training and meticulous body shaping, but a very strong and solid physique! His upper body, composed of several large, solid muscles, with its sun-kissed wheat-colored skin covering the smooth curves of his chest, shoulders, and biceps... all exuded a sense of fullness and power; the most flabby and weak midsection of this type of muscular bear was given a different definition in Hiroto's portrayal: a waist that wasn't small, yet you could vaguely see the lines of abdominal and waist muscles honed over time under a thin layer of fat, and thick, curly body hair below his navel.

He walked over with a smile and pinched my stunned cheek, "What's wrong? Have you been waiting long?" Before he finished speaking, his hand slid down to my neck and pulled off my bathrobe. Before I could react, his prickly beard and lips gently enveloped mine.

I almost forgot how to breathe, only tasting the mouthwash meant to mask the smell of smoke. Then his hot, thick tongue launched a full-scale attack on me, touching, circling, wrapping, and sucking... I suddenly felt that Hiroto was treating his tongue like a penis, rehearsing the scenes that were about to unfold in my mouth. A wave of dizzying pleasure from lack of oxygen hit my head, and I felt my legs go weak, slowly sitting back. The excuses I was about to utter, such as "It's getting late! I have things to do tomorrow, sorry, I have to go!" had long since vanished. My hands began to explore Hiroto's wet, slippery body after the shower. I felt myself unconsciously copying the force and methods of his caresses. How rough or gentle he was, which part of my body he attacked, I responded to him almost in sync.

Through his underwear, we were tightly entwined; I had already vaguely sensed his magnificence, and couldn't help but reach down to find his already aroused penis, slipping it inside his underwear to grasp it—sure enough, it was a weapon of mass destruction perfectly matching his physique! I began to eagerly measure it repeatedly, and Hiroto, sensing my desire, gave me a light kiss and laughed, "Don't bother measuring, my penis is 17 centimeters long and 5 centimeters thick. What else do you want to know?" We both laughed, and the atmosphere suddenly became intimate and relaxed. He took off his underwear and led me to the bed, our bodies never letting go of each other, the feeling of distance and unfamiliarity had vanished without a trace; the bearded Hiroto's lips and tongue began to conquer the city, sucking and biting wherever they could on my body. I felt a jolt of electric pleasure from time to time, and unconsciously began to moan softly. The more intense my convulsive reactions of pleasure, the wilder and more forceful his movements became. His saliva almost soaked my entire body, and his mustache, like a brush, repeatedly licked my nipples, toes, behind my ears, and under my armpits, sending me into a dizzying, weightless state. My vagina was leaking love juice, sticking to Hiroto's hairy chest and abdomen. Then his electrified fingers moved to invade my love hole. Hiroto seemed certain that this treatment would make me feel great. With his fingers thoroughly lubricated by a bunch of bottles and jars, he skillfully and firmly inserted them slowly, then thrust in and out rapidly, pressing and caressing. I could only gasp as I endured this training, sinking deeper and deeper into depravity.

When his movements slowed down, I finally realized it was my turn to serve! I turned and grasped Hiroto's penis, gently licking it with the tip of my tongue. Like a hunter, I could finally see my prey clearly: a large, smooth, egg-like glans, powerfully leading the thick, elastic shaft that bounced back forcefully no matter how I bent it! No mistake, the size he told me was perfect, a top-tier size for an Asian! Thick, shady pubic hair spread around this magnificent structure, reaching his chest and ankles; in this rainforest, I also created a large, soft, and heavy scrotum, and two solidly weighted testicles.

I wantonly played with and devoured his massive member, his pleasurable response direct, accompanied by a slight tremor and unreserved moans. Wanting his desire to reach its boiling point, I deliberately attacked every one of his erogenous zones. My approach was completely different from Hiroto's. He was domineering and passionate, full of intent to tame; while I was gentle and delicate yet possessed a powerful force, wanting to draw my opponent in step by step, making them unable to control themselves and enjoy it to the fullest.

As I gently bit his hairy nipple, he breathed into my ear, making a murmured sound, "Can I fuck you now, baby?" I nodded. Hiroto suddenly released me, sprang up like an arrow, muttering a long string of Japanese, and rushed to his suitcase with a hint of regret. He found a square bag, took out several dark glass bottles, and then said to me in Chinese, "I was so enjoying the feeling just now that I forgot to use 'rush'!" Without waiting for my reply, he opened one of the bottles, greedily inhaled deeply, and immediately showed a straightforward expression before handing the small bottle to me.

Do Japanese people also call this thing "rush"? Actually, I don't often use rush during sex, and my past experiences with it weren't particularly intense; but now, under the guidance of this seasoned pro, I experienced an indescribable, tingling pleasure! Hiroto and I, our bodies intertwined in lust, took turns deeply inhaling the rush whenever there was a break, sharing the intoxicating sensations.

This was probably all a carefully orchestrated plan by Hiroto, this seasoned erotician—first a full-blown, passionate foreplay to fully awaken my desire, then the rush to relax my body! Next, Hiroto skillfully took a condom from his bag, tore it open, and asked me to put it on him. I don't know where I learned this technique, but on a whim, I slowly put the condom on him with my mouth; Hiroto was overjoyed, closing his eyes to enjoy my service, unable to suppress his moans. Everything was ready, our rising desire poised to erupt.

Hiroto rolled over, pinning me beneath his muscular frame. His erect penis, like a snake, was searching for the entrance to be plowed. I felt this seasoned erotician quickly rubbing against my sensitive areas, squeezing and pressing like a vibrator, his hands and mouth relentlessly carpeting every erogenous zone on my upper body. I felt like an overinflated balloon, about to burst—I couldn't wait any longer! My body awaited Hiroto's penetration, my release. In a daze, I heard my own involuntary moans echoing in the room. What was happening to me? Hiroto had ignited a powerful, raging fire of desire within me. I knew things were about to spiral out of control.

He lifted my hips, placing my legs on his shoulders.

"I'm going in, baby!"

he whispered, kissing me lightly as his thick penis slowly pushed against the door. It felt like there was a can of soda inside me that I was about to pop open. Hiroto just needed to get the hang of it and use the right amount of force, and the sweet, watery liquid would suddenly burst out. And this seasoned player immediately figured out how to tame me. His engorged member, with its throbbing veins, gradually forced its way into my warm, soft opening. My god, what a huge glans! My soft flesh tightly enveloped the visitor, who was like a baby's fist. "Relax, relax, it'll be over soon!" He opened the Rush bottle and held it to my nostrils. I inhaled the pungent, cool, and moist air. After a few seconds, I felt my heartbeat increase several times over, my heart pounding like a drum. At that moment, Hiroto seized the opportunity and launched his full-scale assault, slowly inserting his 17-centimeter-long, erect penis into my body.

"Ah...good...good...faster..."

A massive and fierce agony instantly coursed through my body. It wasn't just my secret place that was resisting his massive penis; it felt like every nerve ending in my body was acting on it! Taking advantage of the rush's dizzying effects, Hiroto didn't wait long. He gently thrust his large penis, beginning to clear the trajectory of the frequent ejaculations centimeter by centimeter, repeatedly eroding the reflexive muscle strength of the tight vaginal walls with his large glans and 5cm diameter.

As I gradually relaxed from my tense state, I couldn't help but moan softly from the skill he was using. Out of the corner of my eye, I occasionally caught his satisfied and smug smile. Hiroto's ambiguous smile seemed to tell me, "I've only just begun, and you're already enjoying it so much. Watch how I fuck you next! I'll fuck you to death, you little slut!" I was so familiar with this top-tier veteran of the pleasure quarters! Any reaction from the bottom can ignite their fervent desire to tame their opponent and their formidable fighting spirit. They relish the various wanton and lewd behaviors their opponent displays due to their superior sexual skills. The opponent's moans and trembling body will absolutely satisfy them. They enjoy this game of tamer! I know, I've truly met a master today! I'm determined to cast aside everything and boldly embrace the ecstatic sex that awaits me tonight.

Like a steam train just starting up, after a slow build-up, Hiroto gradually increased the speed of his thrusts, speeding through the newly acquired tunnel. My pain was fading, and I was experiencing waves of pleasure from the rhythmic thrusts when he changed his tactics. Hiroto began to use his real skill, gently withdrawing his penis from deep inside, rubbing it a few times when the glans was caught by the opening before thrusting it in hard, pausing briefly at the climax before twisting or circling, then repeating the process. After only a few dozen thrusts using this delicate "gentle withdrawal and forceful thrust" technique, the thick, angular edge of Hiroto's glans scraped against my vaginal walls with a rhythmic and varied motion, making me unable to resist letting out excited moans in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Ah...good...good...faster...ah...ah...so good..." Hiroto picked me up and skillfully spun me around, putting me in a doggy-style position, his 17cm member still firmly inserted inside me. He handed me another bottle of "different flavor" rush, telling me to inhale deeply through my nose and hold my breath. I was suddenly hit with a burst of pleasure, like a gunpowder explosion. "This is different, stronger," he explained, thrusting wildly without missing a wave of intense heat. He

changed again! He used a technique similar to "nine shallow, one deep," alternating between deep, shallow, fast, and slow strokes, focusing intently on exploring every corner of my flesh. Sometimes, he would use the base of his penis as a base, drawing circles of varying sizes inside my tight cavity. Sometimes he would use large, forceful thrusts with his waist, followed by a short, high-speed, pile-driving-like series of intense pumps. He always knew when to "stop" and would come up with something new to fuck me. Just when I was getting carried away with a particular technique or position, he would immediately press his advantage, thrusting 30 or 50 times, and then, without hesitation, start anew—perhaps a stranger mating position, or a more lewd and carnal way of moving and interacting.

These familiar techniques, in Hiroto's hands, were transformed into something magical by this natural lecher. He used exquisite pacing, tricky angles, abundant stamina, and an unwavering will to fuck his opponent until she begged for mercy in his sexual conquests. Not only was I captivated, but he was also overjoyed.

We entangled in a passionate battle for about half an hour, until Hiroto, standing beneath the bed, lifted me up from the waist, face to face. He used his arms and waist to propel me upwards, landing me squarely on his solid member. I felt like a stainless steel bartender, being vigorously tossed about by a skilled bartender, my hot, viscous semen about to erupt.

"Ah... I'm... I'm... coming... Ahh... Faster... Ah!!!" I couldn't hold back any longer. A fountain of fluid burst through the door, and with the compressed pleasure of my orgasm, he deliberately accelerated his thrusts.

He was still hard; the sexual pleasure he sought must have been more than just this.

As I recovered slightly from the euphoria of my orgasm and was about to take a sip of water to catch my breath, the doorbell rang. Was someone else coming? I inwardly groaned, for after the climax, I utterly lacked the desire for further action; but the situation had already spiraled out of my control. In today's game, I suppose I was merely a physical toy for these men.

Hiroto pulled off the condom, released me, and ran to open the door. A flurry of Japanese greetings ensued, and through his sweat-drenched, glistening back, I saw a tall, thin man in casual clothes. This man noticed me on the bed and began bowing and greeting me with a long string of Japanese I couldn't understand, making me feel incredibly awkward. To him, I was, after all, a naked stranger. But despite my awkwardness, I still noticed the tall, thin man's dark chest hair creeping up from his collar to his throat.

The door wasn't closed yet, and Hiroto's next words weren't directed at the tall, thin man—was there someone else? I vaguely saw another man, not very tall and slightly overweight, but I just wanted to quickly find some clothes or a bathrobe to put on. Hiroto turned around, creating my awkwardness, and laughed, "It's okay, you can take a shower first!" He pointed to the two men: "This is Mr. Lin, Mr. Lin, he's from Hong Kong, he's my business partner in Hong Kong, he's 41 years old this year. That thin one is Mr. Kenji, 35 years old, he's my friend from Osaka, he lives in Hong Kong now and works here." My face flushed red. Ugh, how embarrassing! Bowing to strangers while naked was such a strange thing.

I asked them and found out they had already showered at home and come prepared. Hiroto, with his semi-erect penis, chatted and laughed enthusiastically with the two men in Japanese, occasionally scratching his penis to relieve an itch. Mr. Lin and Kenji, speaking Japanese, chatted and took off their clothes, leering at me as they watched me go into the bathroom to shower. They weren't at all awkward or uncomfortable; Mr. Lin even playfully stroked Hiroto's swollen penis from time to time. I guessed these three were old hands at these kinds of sex parties, and having finally gotten some new customers, they were naturally going to have a good time. Hiroto quietly told me that they were all tops, and only Mr. Lin could play bottom with the members depending on the situation, but he wasn't very enthusiastic about it.

This arrangement made me vaguely feel the emptiness in my body after my orgasm, and a hot, dark current surged from the depths of my being. I think I was truly aroused by this situation, with new desires and latent madness. I felt like I was getting an erection again, and I felt like I could immediately have a wild lovemaking session with them. Now, I could only choose to succumb, obediently submit, and let them play with me as they pleased.

Actually, they weren't the type of men that would truly make my heart flutter, but they were sexy, shameless, and highly skilled in their sexual techniques, plus they had incredible energy, so I didn't need to care about their external conditions. Moral, ethical, and shameful doctrines are superfluous and laughable in this lewd little world; the only rule here is: purely enjoy sex, purely revel in the moment.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I saw three middle-aged men of different types already eagerly entwined. I tiptoed over, but before I even reached the bed, a hairy arm suddenly grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. I looked closely—it was Kenji. He was really tall and thin, like a bamboo pole. Just one hug and I knew he was a "lightweight" opponent. Normally, I wouldn't be interested in such a thin man, but after a few minutes of caressing, I discovered many "unconventional" physical characteristics about him, making me want to explore them closely: Kenji clearly had a typical Eastern face, but his body hair was incredibly thick, almost comparable to that of a foreigner! The thick, black, stiff hair stretched like a carpet from his collarbone down to his lower body, almost completely covering him, making him look like a plush toy monkey. I quickly noticed that besides the Western-looking body hair, Kenji's "hairy carpet" also featured an enormous penis that was completely disproportionate to his slender frame—a baseball bat-shaped penis that was huge in the front and tapered towards the back. Good heavens, if Hiroto's penis was considered a masterpiece, I don't know how to describe this behemoth before me. Its size far surpassed any I had ever experienced; perhaps only Western pornographic films had ever featured such a weapon of war in terms of size and shape.

Before I could even react to his massive member, Kenji eagerly shoved it into my mouth. I began to devour Kenji's enormous penis, which resembled a miniature baseball bat, with the excitement of someone starving for ten days and wanting to swallow food whole. I could vaguely hear the lewd laughter of these three middle-aged men, but I didn't care about dignity anymore. Today, I just wanted to be a pampered, needed, and possessed toy, to prove my basic value as a woman through this absurd form of play. I wanted to tell myself forcefully: I am "needed," and "wanted."

My body was being wantonly teased and played with by Mr. Lin and Hiroto, all while I was frantically sucking on Kenji's "Yamato baseball bat." From the familiar body temperature and method, I knew that it was Hiroto sucking and biting my nipple; I also knew that it was Mr. Lin's chubby, short fingers, covered with the lubricant he brought that was labeled "wet & hot," and they were roughly exploring my vagina. A few minutes later, I felt the front part of my vaginal canal starting to get hot, and the hot sensation gradually spread from the entrance of my vagina.

"It's still so bouncy after being played with by Hiroto-san's big cock, hmm, it must feel so good to go in! Ha!" Mr. Lin muttered to himself as he handed the rush bottle to Kenji. Hiroto, feeling quite approving, chimed in, "He's great, Mr. Lin! Why don't you try it first? And then Kenji-san can play with it?" With such strategic planning, it seemed that Hiroto was the core figure in charge of controlling this "middle-aged trio of sex fiends."

Kenji, sucking on the rush, was getting all horny, and as I vigorously sucked and licked him, he was so turned on that he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and muttered incoherently. Seeing that he was noncommittal, Mr. Lin, who looked like a typical "horny old man," didn't want to wait for me to give him oral sex. He grabbed his already fully engorged and firm penis and was eager to force it into my wet little hole. I had no choice but to stick out my plump buttocks and let him have his way. The initial introduction went smoothly. I even thought Mr. Lin's weapon was just average, which is why I didn't feel uncomfortable during insertion. Little did I know the real challenge was yet to come! My sensitive flesh gradually revealed that Mr. Lin's penis was pyramidal, tapering at the tip and becoming thicker and fuller towards the base, as large as a stake. When Mr. Lin began thrusting, the sensations of "relaxation and itchiness" and "fullness" at the entrance of my vagina subtly alternated. After less than a hundred thrusts, I couldn't help but tremble, almost collapsing from pleasure. My mouth left Kenji's large penis, and I groaned with my mouth open in a similar shape. Kenji, of course, wasn't satisfied yet, and would occasionally "send" his large rod back into my mouth, wanting me to serve him.

Hiroto said a few words in Japanese, and the three of them began to switch positions with perfect understanding. I was arranged to lie on my back on the bed, and Mr. Lin placed a pillow under my buttocks. Only then did I get a clear look at Mr. Lin's face and body. He actually had a robust, muscular physique typical of middle-aged men, not the puffy, overweight type; he was about 170cm tall and weighed roughly 75 to 80kg. Judging from his facial features, he must have been a handsome young man in his youth. Frankly, Mr. Lin's face was quite good-looking, though he was getting on in years. However, Mr. Lin's eagerness and vigor during sex were in no way inferior to that of a young man. He didn't have much technique, let alone the superb skills of hiroto; but despite his eagerness, he was incredibly patient in his thrusting, repeating the same speed and position tirelessly until my body ached and I couldn't help but ask to stop. Moreover, he didn't have many expressions or make much noise during sex, unlike his usual lively way of speaking; only when he was sucking on the rush could I see another side of him, his brows furrowed and his eyes rolling.

Mr. Lin grabbed my calves and spread my legs at a 90-degree angle, attacking me with his cone-shaped penis. Despite his round belly, his waist was surprisingly strong! Mr. Lin thrust in and out of my repeatedly opening and closing anus with steady and consistent speed and force, which I thoroughly enjoyed! He allowed me to savor the pleasure generated by the friction and expansion between the male genitalia and the vaginal walls, the only drawback being its somewhat monotonous nature. Hiroto, on the other hand, was a different story. He skillfully used the sharp edge of his glans and his naturally robust physique to tightly scrape against the sensitive walls during intercourse, and adeptly used his superior erotic techniques to create a blood-pumping atmosphere, making the game of lovemaking twice as effective. Both of them had their strengths.

If Hiroto was lustful, and Mr. Lin was impatient, then Kenji should be considered lustful indulging, right? He must have been very satisfied with my oral skills. Wherever Mr. Lin was doing my upper body, he would move his "bat" there, never wanting to stop enjoying the pleasure of being given oral sex by me. Moreover, the whole room was filled with his unrestrained Japanese swearing and panting moans. Later, he was probably aroused by my "nibbling" and had no way to make Mr. Lin, who was riding me, stop at the last moment. Kenji simply straddled my body, squatted in a horse stance above my reclining chest, and slowly began to suck on my wet mouth. Not long after, Mr. Lin, whose hips were moving like a machine behind him, was probably nearing his climax. He quietly changed documents, sped up, and after a burst of vigorous thrusting, he suddenly changed his heavy Cantonese accent and shouted in unexpectedly standard Beijing dialect: "Fuck! Fuck you to death, you little slut! Fuck you to death, you whore! Ah!... Ah!" "Ah!... Ah! Hmm... Ah... There... I'm... I'm... I'm... coming!!!" Mr. Lin suddenly convulsed and trembled, then forcefully pulled out his penis and condom. His swollen organ spurted out a large pool of white fluid, which flooded my abdomen and waist, quickly flowing onto the sheets.

The next day, we tidied up the room, exchanged contact information, and parted ways. Hong Kong left me with wonderful memories.

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