Those Years, Those People, Those Things 1-2

Chapter One: Sexual Awakening

I'm 30 years old this year, married with children, and with some success in my career. Looking at my increasingly plump
self in the mirror, I often reminisce about my youth. A few years ago, I wanted to write something to commemorate my lost
youth .

Many women have passed through my life over the years; some I still remember, others are blurry, mostly
fragmented memories—naked bodies, damp genitals, gentle breaths, or the thrill of a racing heart.
Some scenes still evoke inexplicable feelings.

Those years, those events, those people—are you all doing well? Without further ado, let me
begin …

It was my first day of high school registration. I remember it was a summer day, the sun blazing, the trees shady,
the sweltering heat mirroring my excited heart.

The city I lived in was a small third- or fourth-tier city in northern China. There are probably around 800,000 people in the city. That day, I went to
register at high school. I first looked at the class I was assigned to at the school gate before going to the classroom to register. When I entered the classroom, I saw that
the podium was surrounded by adults and students who had come to register. Because it was summer and I was sweating a lot on the way there
, I didn't rush to the podium to find the teacher to register. Instead, I sat under the classroom fan to cool off.

At this moment, I inadvertently saw a girl sitting not far behind me. She had delicate features and
a petite figure at first glance. She was looking out the window with her hand on her chin, and her ponytail was casually hanging down her back. What was most
noticeable was the rise and fall of her chest. I remember thinking at the time, "Wow, so big!" As I was looking at her, she inadvertently
turned her head to look at me. Our eyes met, and I quickly turned my head away. I felt very nervous and a little excited.

There weren't too many parents registering at this time, so I, feeling restless, got up to register.
Pushing through the crowd, I saw my homeroom teacher, a young woman in her early twenties, also with a ponytail.
From her conversation with other parents, I learned she had recently graduated, was of average appearance, but had a large bust.
At the time, I didn't have a concept of bra size, or perhaps it was because of puberty that I paid particular attention to women's bodies.
I always focused especially on women's breasts.

Finally, it was my turn. I handed my registration certificate to the teacher. She glanced at me, and I smiled back.
Being young and naive, I didn't understand the importance of small talk. I turned to leave, but just as I was about to go, my homeroom teacher called
me back. She asked, "Do I have any special skills?"

Since I'd loved drawing since I was little, and had been in charge of the class's blackboard newspaper until high school, I
replied, "I'm alright at drawing."

The teacher picked up a pen, wrote something on a piece of paper, then looked at me with a smile and said, "Okay, I understand.
You can go now. From now on, the blackboard newspaper for our class will be yours."

These two women were my true sexual awakening subjects. Before them, all women were just childish
games . They truly opened a new world for me.

Let me start with my homeroom teacher. Back then, I didn't study hard and was assigned to the last row. I always
piled my books high and hid behind them to eat, sleep, and read novels—basically, I didn't study. Half a semester
later I hadn't even turned a few pages.

I remember one day it was my homeroom teacher's math study session. As usual, I was reading a novel behind the wall of books. Just as I was
engrossed in fantasizing about the protagonist's life with multiple wives and concubines, my homeroom teacher came over, took the book from my face, and angrily
said, "Go to the office and wait for me!"

I slunk out, glancing back at my high school best friends, who had gloating
expressions . I was furious.

Not long after I arrived at the office, the homeroom teacher came in. She sat down and began to lecture me. Because it was summer, she
was wearing a crew neck t-shirt, and because the neckline was low, it opened even wider as she excitedly spoke about me. You can imagine
the scene: I was standing while she was sitting, and I could see right through her neckline—her large,
white breasts were swaying back and forth.

She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, just a light pink halter top. Seeing this, I felt a physical reaction down there,
my nose stung, and I started bleeding. When the teacher saw my nosebleed, she was taken aback at first, then opened her handbag to find me
some tissues. The bleeding stopped after a while. Seeing my disheveled state, the teacher's anger turned to laughter, and she went to the water dispenser to
get me a glass of water, handed it to me, and told me to sit down.

As I sat down, I accidentally dropped the teacher's handbag. She bent down to pick it up, and this time she had a complete
view of my nipples. My penis, which had just softened, hardened again. As she stood up, she
noticed my erection and clearly blushed. After a pause, she said, "Go back! Write a
self-criticism and give it to me during evening self-study tomorrow. If this happens again, I'll have to call your parents."

So I stood up, my penis still erect. I saw the teacher glance at me again before turning away.

On the way back to the classroom, I was incredibly embarrassed. After calming myself down a bit, and my erection returning to normal,
I went into the classroom.

The next day, before the first evening self-study session, I took the written self-criticism to my homeroom teacher. When I reached the office window,
I saw her slumped over her desk. Since it was the beginning of self-study, all the other teachers were in their classrooms. Our homeroom teacher
had her second period, so she was alone in the office. When I went in, she looked up, her face pale and
contorted in pain. I quickly asked her what was wrong.

She said it was her old problem, low blood sugar, and that she'd be fine after a nap. She asked me to help her to her dorm to rest.

As she spoke, her legs buckled and she tried to sit down again. Seeing this, I said, "Teacher, let me carry you." She

didn't say anything, which I took as agreement. I half-squatted down, and she leaned on my back. I pulled her thighs up and started walking towards the dorm, enjoying the smooth texture of her skin as we walked. When we reached the dorm building, it was a staircase, and we had to climb it step by step. By this time, I was sweating profusely. After asking for directions, I learned it was on the third floor. Several times on the way up, I lifted her up to prevent her from slipping off my back, and my hands ended up resting directly on her buttocks. Because I was wearing denim shorts, the texture wasn't very pleasant. Finally, we arrived at the dorm. This was my first time in a classroom-dorm room. There were two single beds. After a quick look around , the teacher told me to put her on the bed on the left and then asked me to get some glucose from the drawer. I opened the drawer and searched for a long time, only finding an empty box. The teacher told me to go to the school clinic to get it, saying I just needed to tell the school doctor her name. I didn't dare delay, so I went downstairs to get it right away.

Since the school clinic was some distance from the dormitory, when I returned to the dormitory, I found that the teacher was already asleep.
I quietly went in and called her, but there was no response. At this moment, I couldn't help but look at my homeroom teacher's body. She was wearing a white t-shirt and
blue jeans. I remembered the feeling of my hands when I carried her, and I couldn't help but have some wicked thoughts. So I slowly
walked to the bedside and gently called her name, but there was no response. So I put my hand on her thigh and pretended to call her,
afraid that I would say something if she woke up. After calling for a while without response, I became bolder and began to slowly stroke her thigh, and then
slowly moved to her lower abdomen. Just as I was about to explore her chest, the teacher moved. At that moment, I quickly stood up,
turned around and ran, running all the way to the classroom.

Thinking back on what had just happened, I was afraid that the teacher would find out and notify my parents, and I was afraid of being expelled. My mind was full of
wild thoughts　 finished the first evening self-study session with anxiety.

After the second evening self-study session started, I waited for a while, but the homeroom teacher still hadn't come in. At this time, I was even more anxious and
started to have wild thoughts again, even wondering if she had already told the other teachers about it and were discussing how to punish me.

While I was lost in thought, the teacher came in, her face still pale and bloodless. She sat
on the podium and said it was self-study day. Then I heard the sound of everyone turning pages. After a while, seeing that the teacher didn't seem to be
acting strangely, I felt relieved.

Later, when I got home, I lay in bed feeling incredibly excited, fantasizing about masturbating twice before finally falling into a deep sleep.

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