Unforgettable is the tenderness of my girlfriend on that snowy night.

It's been a long time since I've written anything longer here. Being busy is one reason, but as I get older, those passions and impulses seem to diminish. But that snowy night last winter remains deeply etched in my mind—filled with enduring tenderness, joy, and satisfaction, but also with profound helplessness and sorrow. Before I begin, I want to tell you that this is a true story. While the satisfaction of lust is important, and the driving force behind everything, the element of love is even more precious. Today, what often fills my heart is the gentle charm in her smiles, the tender intimacy, the shy glances, the joy of heartfelt conversations, and the sorrow of parting ways. The helplessness of life makes the release of lust secondary. So, those who prefer a forceful, domineering approach and a direct rush to sex can look elsewhere. It was a Saturday last winter. My wife took the children to a hot spring in the suburbs for a work activity, while I had to work half a day in the city. Unexpectedly, the heaviest snowfall in years began at noon, accumulating to over a foot thick in just half a day. With the roads blocked, they naturally wouldn't come, and were happy to stay the night and continue enjoying the charm of the open-air hot spring in the snow. After finishing my work, I felt a bit empty in the evening. During the week, I'm busy serving my boss at work and then taking care of my wife and daughter after get off work; how could I not feel restless with this rare moment of leisure? The snow had stopped, and stepping outside, the crisp air felt exceptionally fresh. Almost instinctively, I went to the largest dance hall in the city. I believe those in this forum know about these kinds of places; most cities have them, and they used to be extremely popular. They had a somewhat smoky atmosphere, known as "the poor man's paradise." But their appeal lay in the large crowds, freedom, and casualness—in today's terms, down-to-earth. Being there was stress-free and completely relaxing. Young female staff often frequented these places after get off work, and if you were lucky, you could meet one or two exceptional girls. However, in recent years, the quality of the dancing girls has declined significantly. Frankly, I had long been disappointed with this place and hadn't been back for over a year. But this "poor man's paradise" did possess an irresistible magic, as if a glimmer of hope always existed, and after such a long absence, it stirred a restless longing within me. This time, however, I was unexpectedly not disappointed. Perhaps it was the perfect timing of my visit, or perhaps my standards and tastes had changed, but I actually found some girls quite attractive. There was a tall girl in a black t-shirt and jeans, incredibly sexy and curvaceous, quite captivating. But my gaze ultimately settled on a girl of medium height with delicate features. It's pathetic, really; no matter how much I admire tall, voluptuous women, when faced with a group of women, I will always choose the most beautiful, pure, and elegant one, not necessarily the one with the biggest breasts. Let's talk about today's protagonist. This girl wore a pale yellow batwing top, with light, delicate makeup, and a very pure and pretty appearance. Her chin was slightly upturned, revealing two small dimples when she smiled, and her eyebrows held a sweetness reminiscent of Yang Yuying. Aside from her hands not being particularly slender, she was practically a stunner in this setting. I didn't hesitate to ask her to dance. Before the first song was even finished, I led her into a private room. What was most remarkable was that this 19-year-old girl, born in 1994, was also a great conversationalist, or perhaps we just really clicked; we ended up chatting for two hours without even realizing it. Let me summarize the situation: her name was Qian, from a neighboring province. Her father worked in a steel factory, and her mother ran a small business. She had just graduated from a vocational school in this city, studying graphic design and dance—I saw her graduation photo in her school uniform on her iPhone 4s. She said she had done many jobs: design at a decoration company; customer service at an insurance company; later, she worked in the nightlife industry, as a hostess in a bar; and even worked as a hostess in a nightclub, but couldn't handle the excessive drinking—although some customers were quite generous, not drinking was absolutely unacceptable. Later, she tried dancing in nightclubs, which she found quite nice—freedom, and most importantly, no one forced her to drink. She said that besides dancing here, she also takes lessons on the pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) every morning at a nearby training school, which her sister forced her to learn. Perhaps it was because I, dressed in a shirt and with a refined appearance, stood out a bit in this "migrant worker's paradise." Anyway, Qian was particularly talkative that night. She said she hates being hit on by men, saying that someone hit on her after get off work last night and scared her half to death, and that someone also hit on her while she was reading at Carrefour today. I looked at her WeChat, and she actually posted a picture today: a horse standing on its back with an egg underneath, with the caption "I hate men who always hit on me on the street, get lost immediately," which made me laugh so hard. The vocational school she went to was actually near the university I attended back then. She talked about how perverted the students at our school were, saying that she was often hit on when she was studying there, and her roommates were furious when they discovered that male university students were looking at them with binoculars. A graduate student had also been pursuing her, and he was now in Beijing. He had recently come to visit her, and they had dinner together, but she didn't like him. There was also a small business owner who kept trying to persuade her to work at his company as a secretary, but she felt he had ulterior motives and didn't dare go. At eighteen or nineteen, it's natural to feel a bit resistant to men who flit about like flies. I talked to her about male psychology, human evolution, even quoting Pan Jun and Nash's story, and she listened attentively. She was a particularly understanding girl; she spoke almost incessantly, without hesitation or reservation. Perhaps all this information was false, but I still preferred to believe it was all true. Of course, I also talked a lot, including some of my experiences and insights from growing up, without uttering a single lie. We exchanged phone numbers and added each other on WeChat. This was the first time since ending my single life that I had given my phone number and told someone my real name in such a setting. It seems unbelievable. Of course, I didn't come to a place like this to find someone to confide in. If it were just for chatting, there are plenty of beautiful women in real life. When she recounted waking up one morning to her sister saying, "Give me a kiss, let me cherish you," and then touching her breasts, making her feel utterly disgusted, I cupped her head and gently breathed into her ear, saying, "I want to cherish you too." I kissed her small, tender lips, even playfully saying, "I want a deep, passionate French kiss." She naturally resisted and dodged, but for a while afterward, taking advantage of opportunities to be intimate became my main focus. I kissed her cherry lips many times, and even touched her wet, slippery tongue, carrying a faint, sweet taste of youth. Later, my hands kept trying to slip inside her clothes from front to back, but she resisted quite strongly. My biggest achievement was once grabbing most of her breast, pinching her nipple, and she let out a soft "ooh." She was probably a B-cup, peach-shaped, very perky. She wore a thin chain on her chest, and I picked up the pendant, saying it was beautiful. She said, "This only cost a few dollars, why do you all say it's beautiful?" I said, "It really looks beautiful on whoever wears it." Then, with a mischievous grin, I added, "Do you know another reason?" She asked, "What?" "Because when you pick up this pendant, you can touch it a little here," I said, reaching inside to cup her breasts again. She laughed hysterically and fell into my arms, exclaiming, "You!" Sometimes, I would pretend to be lecherous and lean down to peek at her cleavage. She would then lift my collar to look inside, even touching me through my shirt, saying, "Are your nipples big? Not really." I would say, "You've touched me, so I'll touch you too," and use that as an excuse to corner her against the wall and kiss her. Perhaps we were having too much fun, or perhaps I was just shy, too embarrassed and unwilling to be too forward. At times, I would hold her on my lap, but with her head higher, it was harder to get close. Before I knew it, two hours had passed. Before I came in, she had said 100 yuan per hour, but I gave her 500 yuan. She seemed somewhat surprised, her eyes glistening with emotion, and the two seemed reluctant to part. She talked a lot, even about laundry, saying that underwear should always be washed by oneself, displaying an innocent and endearing charm. As I left, she cupped my face in her hands, softly telling me to wear more clothes because it was too cold outside; she also said that I should visit her sometime, not necessarily here, but perhaps watching a movie would be nice. Though naive, her tenderness was palpable. While I am not lacking in tenderness, only seeking physical attraction, I found it quite enjoyable. After we parted, I dressed and watched her from a distance, but no one asked her to dance—perhaps her appearance wasn't popular among migrant workers. After leaving, I sent her a text: "Busy?" "No." It was already past ten o'clock, and I suddenly felt a deep sense of pity, a heartache that this parting might be the last. I couldn't help but send another text: "It's too cold, let me treat you to a late-night snack." She replied, "I'm not hungry. It's too late, I'll gain weight." "Then let me take you home." "No need, I'll stay a little longer and then leave." Standing under the eaves at the street corner, she sent another text: "You should go home and rest early too, be careful on the road." This feeling was far beyond that of a chance encounter. I replied emotionally, "On such a quiet, cold, snowy night, if only I could continue chatting with you, hug you, and kiss your dimples, that would be so wonderful!" "You can write poetry? Hehe," she replied. After thinking for a long time, I finally made up my mind and said, "I'm worried about you, I'll wait for you outside, no matter how late, I'll take you home!""She replied, 'You, you.' Soon she appeared at the door, having changed into jeans and knee-high boots, which accentuated her slender waist and shapely hips, giving her a light yet spirited air. She wore a white down jacket, her flowing straight hair and radiant smile making her appear even more youthful, sunny, and energetic. In that instant, I thought of my university days, waiting for my girlfriend outside the girls' dormitory. Leaving the ambiguous environment of the dance hall, I felt a slight awkwardness. But a thought surfaced in my mind, growing clearer and more resolute: on this cold night, I had to hold onto her tightly; I couldn't let this lovely sprite slip away. I didn't know how to express myself. The conversation and atmosphere that night had lingered along a path of ambiguous, almost romantic, relationship, and it was difficult to change course. I was afraid that my abruptness would scare her away, leaving no chance for anything else. 'I'll take you home,' I said, then casually asked, 'Do you live alone?'" "So I learned she lived in an apartment not far away, sharing with three other girls, and I felt a little disappointed. The streets after the snow weren't particularly cold; occasionally, the wind blew, scattering snowflakes from the ground and trees. We walked aimlessly, arm in arm, occasionally covering her ears with my hand, falling silent for a moment. Later, I whispered in her ear, 'I'm really going to miss you. How about we find a place to sit, have a drink, or watch a movie?' 'Are there movies this late?'" “Yes, some even stay up all night,” I exclaimed excitedly. I stopped the car, hailed a cab, and went to the nearest movie theater. I won’t go into details about the movie; if I ramble on, this article probably won’t be suitable for publication on sis. We embraced, like old friends, and didn’t do anything inappropriate. The movie was rather mediocre, and perhaps because it was so late, I don’t know when I fell asleep in her arms. When the movie ended, I opened my eyes and found that she had just woken up, her eyes still sleepy, her cheeks flushed with a girlish blush. I said, “You’re so tired, let’s find a place to rest.” She smiled shyly and didn’t say anything. Perhaps she hadn’t quite woken up yet. Fearing something might have gone wrong, I quickly grabbed her hand and headed straight for a four-star hotel across the street. When we got to the entrance, she hesitated slightly, holding my hand and reluctant to leave, asking in a low voice, “Are we here?” I said firmly, “Yes, it’s a pretty nice place. Have you been here before?” "She said, 'No,' then looked up at me intently. 'Then you can't bully me!' 'Don't worry,' I readily agreed. 'Then let's pinky swear!' 'Pinky swear!' We hurriedly pressed our fingers together. The warmth of her fingertips filled my senses, but my heart was filled with only excitement, anticipation, and anticipation. Now that I was here, I had no choice. She followed me into the room. With a 'click,' the door locked. Before I could even insert the key card, I turned back and kissed her on the door. She probably hadn't had time to react, and with a hint of shock and fear, she said 'No,' instinctively turning her head away. Unfortunately, the second 'No' was only half-spoken before her lips were sealed. My upper body pressed against her chest, my arms wrapped around her. She struggled and twisted, but the space was cramped, and there was nowhere to hide; silver..." Her teeth clenched, but how could they withstand the relentless exploration of his tongue? The moment she relaxed, his tongue slipped inside, touching her wet, sweet tongue, and her defenses crumbled instantly. After a passionate, unrestrained kiss, her body gradually softened. Between breaths, he whispered in her ear, "You have no idea how much I love you. I want you to be my woman." In the midst of a series of lingering, passionate kisses, he freed his hands to remove her down jacket, his right hand kneading her left breast through the thin wool sweater. Xiaoqian was now somewhat lost in passion, and with the underfloor heating in the room, her outer garment still on, she was drenched in sweat, her cheeks flushed. Her body writhed gracefully, her breath coming in soft gasps. I quickly removed her sweater, and my coat was also off; no further words were needed. Before I could even unbutton her clothes, my hands slipped under her bra, finally grasping her small, rabbit-like breasts. Her nipples were already hard, and I couldn't resist any longer. I pushed the bra up, revealing her small breasts, which gleamed white in the dim room. I leaned down slightly, taking one of her firm nipples into my mouth. Xiaoqian let out a soft "Ah," clearly feeling her body straighten. She turned towards me, her head slightly tilted back, her lips parted slightly, her chest heaving, her breath coming in soft gasps. I held one in each hand... He kneaded her breasts, his mouth taking in one, licking, sucking, or biting off half of it. The breasts of a nineteen-year-old girl were truly beautiful, like new bamboo shoots after rain, like warm, smooth jade, like a lively, docile dove, carrying a sweet, delicate fragrance. This feeling was truly indescribable. While he continued this alternating assault on her breasts, his left hand embraced her slender waist from behind, while his right hand unbuttoned her pants and belt from the front, slipping inside her lower abdomen. In her dazed state, Xiaoqian instinctively tried to block him with her hands, a mixture of resistance and acceptance, but his fingers instantly reached her most tender spot. This place was already soaking wet; his fingers gently explored that soft... Between the soft, moist flesh, after only a few touches, Xiaoxi couldn't help but let out a soft "Ah," collapsing to her knees, her head resting on my shoulder, only her dazed, panting breaths remaining. I, already on the verge of climax, wasn't about to give up. I pulled her down onto the warm floor, removing her jeans and black silk thong. Xiaoxi offered no resistance, like a docile lamb, letting me have my way. The girl's body was now fully exposed; her pert breasts, flat stomach, and sparse pubic hair, illuminated by the snow and moonlight streaming through the window, seemed to glow with a sacred light. I gently lay on top of her, kissing her lips, her face… Her neck, her ears, her breasts, every inch of her skin. My lower body was already as hard as iron, pressing against that softest spot. My hands gripped her slender, firm waist and pert buttocks. She slightly raised her body, her jade legs parted, and my hard penis slid in. Her vagina was so tight and tender; even though it was already soaking wet, as soon as the glans entered, Xiaoqian began to plead softly, "It hurts, it hurts, be gentle." Her head tilted back, her brows slightly furrowed, her cherry lips half-open, making her even more alluring in the dim light. Although I intended to be gentle, how could I control myself? Accompanied by her loud "Ah..." The sound, the entire shaft plunged into that warm, moist place, the entrance tightly wrapped around it, truly indescribable. A surge of heat rushed through my body, almost causing me to lose control. I pulled out my penis, then slowly entered again, feeling the shaft push aside layers of tender flesh, stretching the tightness of the entrance, like a plow gliding through spring mud after rain. After several rounds, Xiaoxi began to moan again, her body twisting, like a delicate flower blooming beneath her. My hands grasped her two soft, round buttocks, feeling her arching upwards, so I increased the force of my thrusts, each time penetrating deeply to the very core of her flower. After several rounds, Xiaoxi, no longer shy, couldn't help but cry out, clinging tightly to my waist, her fingernails digging almost into the skin of my back, her buttocks thrusting upwards rhythmically, moaning, "Faster, faster!" I thrust with all my might, streams of semen gushing out, and we both collapsed to the ground, limp as mud. The solid wood floor was slightly warm, soothing our exhausted, almost broken bodies—it felt good. She lay on my chest, her beautiful eyes half-closed, her chest rising and falling. I stroked her hair with one hand, and gently cupped her soft, white breast with the other, my palm resting on her nipple. I asked, "Was it good?" She lightly punched me with her small fist and said, "You're so mean! You promised not to bully me, you're so bad!" "I said, 'Who told you to be so beautiful?' Then I went over and put my arm around her shoulder, gently kissing her. After our lovemaking, her cherry lips were even more luscious, soft and moist, exuding a sweet, delicate fragrance unique to young girls. We kissed softly, like greedy children, without stopping. We lay there like that for about half an hour before getting up, closing the curtains, and turning on the room light. In the bright light, I saw her snow-white body, beautiful as a flawless piece of white jade, immaculate. And scattered all over the floor were our clothes and underwear..." There was a small stain on her pants, perhaps from semen or vaginal fluid dried by the geothermal heat. We looked at each other and laughed. She playfully slapped me and ran to the bathroom like a light butterfly. I quickly stood up and followed her in. While bathing together, under the light and in the steam, I gazed at her perfect body again, marveling at the wonder of creation and the beauty of youth. Her skin was fair and smooth, her body perfectly proportioned, without an ounce of excess fat, her abdomen flat, her waist slender, her legs straight, and her buttocks slightly upturned—a rare beauty!What was most breathtaking was her breasts, which I had already kissed countless times, and the mysterious valley between her legs. Even after playing with them for so long, seeing them up close under the light still deeply shocked me. That natural, slightly upturned shape—only a girl of this age could possess that. Their whiteness was undeniable, and even the nipples were a delicate pink, with very light areolas. I had never seen such white and tender breasts before, and I couldn't resist taking them into my mouth again. I kissed my way down to that mysterious place. Her labia were also pink and tender, tightly closed, hidden beneath sparse pubic hair, like a shy little flower about to bloom. Having seen so many dark-skinned women, I don't actually like women's genitals, but at this moment I couldn't help but kiss them. She pushed me away, saying, "No, it's dirty." I said, "It's so beautiful, not dirty at all." There really wasn't any unpleasant odor; instead, it was the unique scent of a young girl. Of course, I'm not good at licking a woman's vulva. Within minutes, seeing her react, panting softly, her vulva already slightly open, wet and warm, I stood up and attacked her upper body. Later, I had her squat, gently pressing her head between my legs; my little brother was already proudly erect. I touched her luscious lips with my penis; she understood, looking at me with a somewhat hesitant yet shy gaze, but finally took it into her mouth. My body tensed instantly, and I gasped. Xiaoqian's soft lips and tongue teased my penis, occasionally brushing against it with her teeth. Though somewhat clumsy, it was an ultimate pleasure. She tilted her head back, her eyes hazy, her beautiful eyes slightly closed, her face rosy, her delicate features carrying a touch of childishness. Watching my large penis move in and out of her luscious mouth, I felt an indescribable satisfaction and pleasure, while a strange tenderness and love welled up within me. Finally, I gently helped her stand up. The bathroom was slippery. After a half-shower, half-foreplay, I helped her to the sink and hugged her from behind. She bent over slightly, sticking out her pert buttocks. With a "whoosh," my rock-hard penis slid between her plump, white buttocks, beginning a new round of pleasure. Seeing the slightly lewd expression on her youthful face in the mirror, and watching my rough, dark hands kneading her two tender white breasts, I thought that even death would be worth it at that moment. She was probably also extremely stimulated, and soon she was moaning and quickening her pace. If the first time was a swift and violent conquest, the second time, I intentionally wanted to prolong the time to savor this wonderful body. So I hardened my heart, pulled her out of the bathroom, turned off the room lights, and went to the French windows. She put her hands on the railing, sticking out her buttocks, and I entered her from behind again. Outside the window was a white world, a crescent moon hung in the cold, dark blue sky, and the city's high-rise buildings were still sparsely lit. The snow and moonlight illuminated her white body and rounded buttocks, accentuating her curves. Watching this, my penis thrust in and out between her snow-white buttocks, the sounds of her juices rubbing together, the slapping of impacts, along with her moans and cries, echoing in the empty snowy night. The area outside the French windows wasn't as warm as inside, but both of them were already drenched in sweat. Afraid of catching a chill, they finally returned to the white, soft bed. This frenzied lovemaking lasted nearly an hour, using almost every position imaginable. Finally, I had her lie face down on the bed, ejaculating my gushing semen in my favorite doggy-style position. Both of them collapsed onto the bed again, Xiaoqian like a soft, boneless spring mud. After an unknown amount of time, half-asleep, I heard her speak: "You're my second man, do you believe me?" Back in the dance hall, she had mentioned having a boyfriend in school, and they had been together for a few months before graduation. I blurted out, "I believe you, of course I believe you," but perhaps my tone was a little flippant, for she began to sob softly. I quickly put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her, kissing away her tears. Suddenly, she broke free, grabbed my shoulder, and bit me hard, making me cry out in pain. She released me, and said slowly and seriously, "I only slept with him three times. I didn't understand anything back then, really. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to remember me!" I was deeply moved and held her tightly. Until I heard her even breathing, I remained still, cupping her delicate breasts in my hands, and drifted off to sleep. I woke up close to noon. When I opened my eyes, Xiaoqian was smiling, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now more alluring. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black thong and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been holding all night. After a series of kisses, caresses, and whispers, I pulled her black thong halfway down from behind, my penis sliding between her thighs; her vulva was already slightly wet. After a few strokes, I thrust in, and another round of lovemaking ensued. After showering and dressing, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoqian's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punched me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made my vulva sore; it stung when I washed it." At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; it was quite a workout. Reluctantly, we parted, and I went home. Soon after, my wife and daughter returned as well. Back to normal life, amidst the excitement, there was a tinge of worry. She knew my phone number, my name, and even had added me on WeChat. What if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single call or text from her, if discovered by my wife, would be catastrophic. But none of my fears materialized, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat daily became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message, but never comment. She often posted photos, the usual subjects for girls her age: eating, drinking, playing, and having fun, as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look slender, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, was this the woman who had once been so passionate beneath me? I even had a fleeting illusion: was that tender, snowy night real, or just a dream? Sometimes, longing would sprout unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ended with private messages on WeChat. One weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, I suddenly missed her terribly and impulsively called her, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear and melodious, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch with me. I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read, and she said yes, just having lunch there, and she wanted to go shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there was something at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, with excellent character, beauty, and talent; she's incredibly good to me. The thought of us being apart makes me ashamed. Even if one day I become rich and powerful, and my wife is generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine, even if I can provide Xiaoqian with material wealth, I can never give her pure love. Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my unwavering devotion. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young; she will have intoxicating love and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I am proud of my rational thinking, and sometimes I feel the helplessness of life, secretly heartbroken. Time flies, and one day I discovered she had blocked me on WeChat. Many friend requests went unanswered, and phone calls were ignored. I knew this elfin girl had completely disappeared from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, but my heart still aches terribly. The following year, a new dynasty began, and everywhere was clean and prosperous, a new scene unfolded. Many former pleasure quarters instantly turned green. On a drizzly early summer evening, I found myself back at the dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Temporarily Closed" sign hanging above the door. The former gentle prosperity, the alluring glitz and glamour, were gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning to passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive. I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.A strange feeling of pity and tenderness welled up within me, and I gently helped her to her feet. The bathroom was slippery; after a half-shower, half-foreplay, I helped her to the sink and embraced her from behind. She bent over slightly, sticking out her pert buttocks, and with a soft "sizzle," my rock-hard penis slid between her plump, white buttocks, beginning a new round of pleasure. Seeing the slightly lewd expression on her youthful face in the mirror, and watching my rough, dark hands kneading her two tender white breasts, I thought that even death would be worthwhile at that moment. She was probably also extremely stimulated, and soon began to moan repeatedly, quickening the pace of her body. If the first time was a swift and fierce conquest, the second time, I intentionally wanted to prolong the time, to savor this wonderful body. So, I steeled myself, pulled her out of the bathroom, turned off the room lights, and led her to the French windows. She leaned on the railing, sticking out her buttocks, and I entered her from behind again. Outside the window, the world was a vast expanse of white, a crescent moon hung in the cold, deep blue sky, and sparse lights still shone from the city's high-rises. The snow and moonlight reflected off her white body and rounded buttocks, accentuating her curves. Watching all this, the iron rod between his legs moved in and out between her snow-white buttocks, the squelching sounds of her juices rubbing together, the slapping sounds of impact, along with her moans and cries, echoing in the empty snowy night. It wasn't as warm outside the French windows as inside the room, but both of them were already drenched in sweat. Afraid of catching a chill, they finally returned to the clean, soft bed. This frenzied lovemaking lasted for nearly an hour, using almost every position imaginable. Finally, he had her lie face down on the bed, ejaculating a torrent of semen in his favorite doggy-style position. The two of them collapsed onto the bed again, Xiaoqian more like a soft, boneless spring mud. I don't know how long it lasted, but in my half-awake state, I heard her speak: "You're my second man, do you believe me?" Back when we were chatting at the dance hall, she mentioned having a boyfriend in school, and they'd been together for a few months before graduation. I blurted out, "I believe you, of course I believe you," but perhaps my tone was a little flippant, because she started to sob. I quickly put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her, kissing away her tears. Suddenly, she broke free, grabbed my shoulder, and bit me hard, making me cry out in pain. She released me, and said slowly and seriously, "Actually, I only had sex with him three times. I didn't understand anything back then, really. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to remember me!" I was deeply moved and held her tightly. Until I heard her breathing evenly again, I remained still, cupping her delicate breasts in my hands, and drifted off to sleep. I woke up close to noon. When I opened my eyes, Xiaoqian was smiling, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now adorned with a touch of allure. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black thong and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been caressing all night. A series of kisses, caresses, and whispers ensued. From behind, I pulled down her black thong halfway, and my penis slipped between her thighs, the valley already slightly moist. After a few strokes, I thrust inside, and another round of pleasure ensued. After showering and dressing, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoqian's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punching me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made me sore down there, it stung when I washed!" At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; it was quite a workout! Reluctantly parting ways, I went home, and soon my wife and daughter returned as well. Back to my normal life, amidst the excitement, I felt a tinge of worry. She knew my phone number, my name, and even added me on WeChat; what if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single phone call or text message from her, if discovered by my wife, would be utterly disastrous. However, none of my fears materialized, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat daily became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message to say hello, but never comment. She often posted photos, mostly of the usual things girls her age do—eating, drinking, playing, and having fun—as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look slender, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, is this the same woman who once drove me wild? I even had a fleeting illusion: was that tender, snowy night real, or was it all just a dream? Sometimes, longing sprouts unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ends with a private message on WeChat. Only one weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, did I suddenly miss her terribly. On impulse, I called, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch together. Then I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read. She said yes, just having lunch there, and she wanted to go shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there was something at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, of excellent character, appearance, and talent. She's incredibly good to me; the thought of us being apart makes me ashamed. Even if one day I become rich and powerful, and my wife is generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine, even if I can provide Xiaoqian with material wealth, I can never give her pure love. Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my unwavering devotion. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young; she will have intoxicating love and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I am proud of my rational thinking, and sometimes I feel the helplessness of life, secretly heartbroken. Time flies, and one day I discovered she had blocked me on WeChat. Many friend requests went unanswered, and phone calls were ignored. I knew this elfin girl had completely disappeared from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, but my heart still aches terribly. The following year, a new dynasty began, and everywhere was clean and prosperous, a new scene unfolded. Many former pleasure quarters instantly turned green. On a drizzly early summer evening, I found myself back at the dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Temporarily Closed" sign hanging above the door. The former gentle prosperity, the alluring glitz and glamour, were gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning to passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive. I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.A strange feeling of pity and tenderness welled up within me, and I gently helped her to her feet. The bathroom was slippery; after a half-shower, half-foreplay, I helped her to the sink and embraced her from behind. She bent over slightly, sticking out her pert buttocks, and with a soft "sizzle," my rock-hard penis slid between her plump, white buttocks, beginning a new round of pleasure. Seeing the slightly lewd expression on her youthful face in the mirror, and watching my rough, dark hands kneading her two tender white breasts, I thought that even death would be worthwhile at that moment. She was probably also extremely stimulated, and soon began to moan repeatedly, quickening the pace of her body. If the first time was a swift and fierce conquest, the second time, I intentionally wanted to prolong the time, to savor this wonderful body. So, I steeled myself, pulled her out of the bathroom, turned off the room lights, and led her to the French windows. She leaned on the railing, sticking out her buttocks, and I entered her from behind again. Outside the window, the world was a vast expanse of white, a crescent moon hung in the cold, deep blue sky, and sparse lights still shone from the city's high-rises. The snow and moonlight reflected off her white body and rounded buttocks, accentuating her curves. Watching all this, the iron rod between his legs moved in and out between her snow-white buttocks, the squelching sounds of her juices rubbing together, the slapping sounds of impact, along with her moans and cries, echoing in the empty snowy night. It wasn't as warm outside the French windows as inside the room, but both of them were already drenched in sweat. Afraid of catching a chill, they finally returned to the clean, soft bed. This frenzied lovemaking lasted for nearly an hour, using almost every position imaginable. Finally, he had her lie face down on the bed, ejaculating a torrent of semen in his favorite doggy-style position. The two of them collapsed onto the bed again, Xiaoqian more like a soft, boneless spring mud. I don't know how long it lasted, but in my half-awake state, I heard her speak: "You're my second man, do you believe me?" Back when we were chatting at the dance hall, she mentioned having a boyfriend in school, and they'd been together for a few months before graduation. I blurted out, "I believe you, of course I believe you," but perhaps my tone was a little flippant, because she started to sob. I quickly put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her, kissing away her tears. Suddenly, she broke free, grabbed my shoulder, and bit me hard, making me cry out in pain. She released me, and said slowly and seriously, "Actually, I only had sex with him three times. I didn't understand anything back then, really. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to remember me!" I was deeply moved and held her tightly. Until I heard her breathing evenly again, I remained still, cupping her delicate breasts in my hands, and drifted off to sleep. I woke up close to noon. When I opened my eyes, Xiaoqian was smiling, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now adorned with a touch of allure. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black thong and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been caressing all night. A series of kisses, caresses, and whispers ensued. From behind, I pulled down her black thong halfway, and my penis slipped between her thighs, the valley already slightly moist. After a few strokes, I thrust inside, and another round of pleasure ensued. After showering and dressing, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoqian's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punching me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made me sore down there, it stung when I washed!" At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; it was quite a workout! Reluctantly parting ways, I went home, and soon my wife and daughter returned as well. Back to my normal life, amidst the excitement, I felt a tinge of worry. She knew my phone number, my name, and even added me on WeChat; what if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single phone call or text message from her, if discovered by my wife, would be utterly disastrous. However, none of my fears materialized, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat daily became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message to say hello, but never comment. She often posted photos, mostly of the usual things girls her age do—eating, drinking, playing, and having fun—as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look slender, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, is this the same woman who once drove me wild? I even had a fleeting illusion: was that tender, snowy night real, or was it all just a dream? Sometimes, longing sprouts unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ends with a private message on WeChat. Only one weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, did I suddenly miss her terribly. On impulse, I called, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch together. Then I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read. She said yes, just having lunch there, and she wanted to go shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there was something at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, of excellent character, appearance, and talent. She's incredibly good to me; the thought of us being apart makes me ashamed. Even if one day I become rich and powerful, and my wife is generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine, even if I can provide Xiaoqian with material wealth, I can never give her pure love. Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my unwavering devotion. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young; she will have intoxicating love and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I am proud of my rational thinking, and sometimes I feel the helplessness of life, secretly heartbroken. Time flies, and one day I discovered she had blocked me on WeChat. Many friend requests went unanswered, and phone calls were ignored. I knew this elfin girl had completely disappeared from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, but my heart still aches terribly. The following year, a new dynasty began, and everywhere was clean and prosperous, a new scene unfolded. Many former pleasure quarters instantly turned green. On a drizzly early summer evening, I found myself back at the dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Temporarily Closed" sign hanging above the door. The former gentle prosperity, the alluring glitz and glamour, were gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning to passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive. I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.At that moment, Xiaoxi smiled brightly, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now adorned with a touch of allure. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black pantyhose and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been caressing all night, in my hands. After a series of kisses, caresses, and whispers, I pulled her black panties halfway down from behind, my penis sliding between her thighs; her vulva was already slightly moist. After a few strokes, I thrust inside, and another round of lovemaking ensued. After showering and getting dressed, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoxi's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punching me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made my vulva sore, it stung when I washed it!" At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; this was really hard work. We parted reluctantly and I went home. Soon after, my wife and daughter returned. Back to my normal life, I was excited, but also a little worried. She knew my phone number, my name, and even added me on WeChat. What if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single phone call or text message from her, if discovered by my wife, would be the end of me. But none of my worries came true, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat every day became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message to say hello, but never comment. She often posted photos, mostly of the usual things girls her age do: eating, drinking, playing, and having fun, as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look thin, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, is this the same woman who once drove me wild? I even wondered if that tender, snowy night was real, or perhaps just a dream. Sometimes, longing sprouts unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ends with a private message on WeChat. Only one weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, did I suddenly miss her. On impulse, I called, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch together. Then I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read. She said yes, just having lunch, and I wanted to do some shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there were some things to do at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, possessing first-rate character, beauty, and talent. She has been incredibly good to me. The thought of separating from her fills me with shame. Even if I were to become wealthy and powerful, she would be generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine. Even if I could provide Xiaoqian with material comforts, I could never give her pure love. Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my unwavering devotion. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young; she will have a beautiful love story and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I feel proud of my rational thinking, and other times I feel a profound sense of helplessness in life, secretly heartbroken. As time passed, one day I discovered she had blocked me on WeChat. Numerous friend requests went unanswered, and phone calls were unanswered. I knew this elfin girl had completely disappeared from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, yet the pain is still excruciating. The following year, at the start of a new era, everything was cleansed and renewed. Many of the former pleasure quarters instantly became deserted. One early summer evening, amidst a light drizzle, I found myself back at that dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Temporarily Closed" sign posted. The former gentle prosperity, the allure of its past, was gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive. I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.At that moment, Xiaoxi smiled brightly, tilting her head to look at me. After a night of passion, she looked even more radiant, her delicate face now adorned with a touch of allure. She was already dressed, wearing a silk black pantyhose and bra, which accentuated her fair skin and slender, sexy figure, instantly arousing my penis. Returning from the bathroom, I lay down on the bed, embraced her from behind, and cupped her breasts, which I had been caressing all night, in my hands. After a series of kisses, caresses, and whispers, I pulled her black panties halfway down from behind, my penis sliding between her thighs; her vulva was already slightly moist. After a few strokes, I thrust inside, and another round of lovemaking ensued. After showering and getting dressed, as I was about to leave, I noticed Xiaoxi's legs were walking awkwardly, and I smiled mischievously. She blushed, playfully punching me, and scolded, "It's all your fault! You're so naughty! You made my vulva sore, it stung when I washed it!" At noon, I treated her to a large meal at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I was starving myself; this was really hard work. We parted reluctantly and I went home. Soon after, my wife and daughter returned. Back to my normal life, I was excited, but also a little worried. She knew my phone number, my name, and even added me on WeChat. What if she became clingy? Let alone clingy, even a single phone call or text message from her, if discovered by my wife, would be the end of me. But none of my worries came true, and I gradually relaxed. Checking her WeChat every day became a habit; I'd occasionally send a private message to say hello, but never comment. She often posted photos, mostly of the usual things girls her age do: eating, drinking, playing, and having fun, as well as scenes from her school life. I remember one photo of her in her school uniform; the oversized blue and white tracksuit made her look thin, but it couldn't hide her vibrant youth and girlish charm. I often wondered, is this the same woman who once drove me wild? I even wondered if that tender, snowy night was real, or perhaps just a dream. Sometimes, longing sprouts unexpectedly like spring grass, but it always ends with a private message on WeChat. Only one weekend afternoon, while picking up my car from the dealership, did I suddenly miss her. On impulse, I called, but she didn't answer. About half an hour later, the phone rang. Her voice was incredibly clear, like a silver bell, seemingly tinged with shyness and timidity. She said she was doing laundry and hadn't heard me; she was outside now. I said I was thinking of asking her to have lunch together. Then I asked where she was going, if she was going to Carrefour to read. She said yes, just having lunch, and I wanted to do some shopping this afternoon to buy a dress. After hanging up, seeing the bright sunshine, I thought about going to see her, even taking her for a drive. But ultimately, I didn't have the courage. A little while later, my wife called, saying there were some things to do at home, so I went back. My wife is a wonderful person, possessing first-rate character, beauty, and talent. She has been incredibly good to me. The thought of separating from her fills me with shame. Even if I were to become wealthy and powerful, she would be generous and understanding enough to allow me to take a concubine. Even if I could provide Xiaoqian with material comforts, I could never give her pure love. Besides, I am just an ordinary person among the masses. The only difference is my unwavering devotion. I can give her nothing. Xiaoqian is still young; she will have a beautiful love story and a happy family. Why should I mislead or harm her? Sometimes I feel proud of my rational thinking, and other times I feel a profound sense of helplessness in life, secretly heartbroken. As time passed, one day I discovered she had blocked me on WeChat. Numerous friend requests went unanswered, and phone calls were unanswered. I knew this elfin girl had completely disappeared from my life. I knew this day would come sooner or later, yet the pain is still excruciating. The following year, at the start of a new era, everything was cleansed and renewed. Many of the former pleasure quarters instantly became deserted. One early summer evening, amidst a light drizzle, I found myself back at that dance hall, only to find it locked up tight, a "Temporarily Closed" sign posted. The former gentle prosperity, the allure of its past, was gone. Along the roadside in the nearby old neighborhood, groups of women who looked like migrant workers stood in the rain, umbrellas in hand, quietly beckoning passersby. They were all heavily made up, their faces coarse, their figures bloated—almost repulsive. I stood there, stunned, watching this world unfold, tears streaming down my face.

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Unforgettable is the tenderness of my girlfriend on that snowy night.

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