Eight cigarettes (1-3)

Eight Cigarettes
(17232 words) A friend once said, "A real man is one who has slept with a hundred women in his life." I admire that kind of courage, but I also sympathize with him having to be treated for gonorrhea three times. My little brother also longs to explore different secret realms, but he's more afraid of the pain of being soaked in potassium permanganate solution. So, I think I'll never be able to accomplish this feat in my lifetime. Let alone a hundred, I'd be happy if I could pull down the panties of ten girls. At least I was successful in the beds of the first eight girls. Although I don't have an impressive penis, at least I can win with endurance. Whenever I think of this, I'm glad that I spent more time running in high school than running marathons. Every man has a unique sexual experience. The process from the initial formation of the glans to its shrinkage is the most triumphant time of their lives. It's not just the pleasure of ejaculating in the vagina, but also the glory of conquest. After reading the posts on the forum, I finally understand that every penis has a story when it seeks a vagina. Even if the keyword is erection, the hidden experiences behind it are the most memorable. So I decided to write down my story to share with everyone. Since I have a habit of smoking after sex, I used this name to describe those eight girls who looked and had different figures. But in my opinion, at least, their posture when they bent over to use the toilet was exactly the same…
The first cigarette of the post-80s generation is an awkward one. They lived through a changing era, and this included their sexuality. They weren't as open as today's junior high students, nor were they so ignorant as to use chamber pots. As one of them, I watched my first pornographic film in my second year of high school. That same year, I ejaculated inside a woman for the first time. Her name sounded masculine, but she looked very feminine. Her features were perfectly proportioned, and her figure was well-developed. She transferred to my class, and when I saw her, I was immediately struck by her beauty. That day, she wore a pink short-sleeved shirt, her breasts prominently displayed, and tight jeans hugged her lower body, making her figure look defined. My feelings at the time were very realistic; I just wanted to touch that obvious triangle area below her abdomen. I naively thought there must be something inside, how could it be so bulging? It's worth mentioning her buttocks, full and round, almost as if they were about to curl up. Because her pants were so tight, peeking through the gap revealed a distinct cleavage, her genitals wedged into the seam, the outline of her underwear clearly visible. All the boys in the class couldn't take their eyes off that area, yet they collectively pretended to be cool, using occasional sneaky glances to cover their true feelings. I was the happiest one, because my deskmate had just been expelled for fighting, and that empty seat would surely belong to this girl with the tight pants. Sure enough, the homeroom teacher arranged for her to sit next to me. As she put her bottom on the stool, I couldn't contain my excitement and laughed out loud. She heard me, and perhaps sensing my thoughts, she gave me a cold glance. Her clear, bright eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, and at the same time, I felt a little ashamed, unable to control myself in front of such a beautiful woman, secretly resenting her disdain. I can't deny that I was really stupid back then. On one hand, I wanted to get into a good school, forcing myself to study hard; on the other hand, I couldn't escape the stirrings of puberty, desperately suppressing my curiosity about sex. Sometimes I longed to be cool like the school bullies, to fight, to drink, and to win the girls' attention with my awesome toughness. But I was also afraid of ruining my future, so I obediently stayed a good student, occasionally watching porn, smoking a little, and masturbating. So, although we became deskmates, there wasn't much substantial progress. I only learned that she liked Nicholas Tse and almost stubbornly believed that only long-haired boys were dashing. This was somewhat discouraging. Occasionally, I would sneak peeks at her chest through her collar, only to discover that she didn't like wearing a bra. Most girls at the time had obvious bra marks, you could tell the style and size from their t-shirts, but she never had any of those marks. During one spying session, I successfully took advantage of her bending down to pick up a pen to quickly observe that she was wearing a patterned tank top underneath. Her breasts were full and firm, with pink nipples and areolas, set against her round, white breasts, incredibly alluring. I imagined they must feel very soft and elastic to the touch. This impulse had been nagging at me for a long time, and I finally came up with a vicious plan to retaliate against her coldness. I don't know what kinds of games schools played in the summer of '98, but at my school, playing with high-pressure water guns was all the rage. Filled with resentment, I sprayed a tube of cold water, along with my fantasies, onto her chest, as if I were shooting semen. Her chest was almost completely soaked, faintly revealing the shape of her small nipples. Her vest clung to her body, and water droplets slowly slid down her collar. The watermarks made her breasts appear fuller and more prominent, firm and swaying gently with her wiping movements. I restrained the urge to reach out and pinch them, waiting to see her reaction. She glared at me angrily, awkwardly pulling her bra forward to hide her nipples, then stared intently into my eyes, pounding my chest with her other hand. She hissed sharply, "I never knew you were such a lewd person! You're infuriating!" Just as her fist landed on my chest, I was still basking in a smug sense of pleasure, but when I heard her call me lewd, I instantly became enraged. The main reason was that I genuinely felt I had gone too far; what I had done was somewhat despicable. But no man wants to be scolded like that by a beautiful woman. So what if it's despicable? Men are beasts, but women have a soft spot for animals. I simply picked up the water gun again and sprayed water onto her tightly wrapped genitals. Her triangle area was instantly soaked, and the water streaks spread towards her buttocks. She froze, perhaps surprised by my boldness, or perhaps unable to accept the sight of her wet pants. I stared at her fearlessly, gripping her fist tightly. Slowly approaching, I finally spoke when we were less than a centimeter apart: "Yes, I'm lewd. I'm exactly the kind of person you described. Using a water gun on you was just another form of it. What I really wanted was to strip you naked!" She shifted back, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide and incredulous, staring at me speechlessly. I released her hand, glanced at her wet crotch, tossed her a handkerchief, and turned to leave the classroom. I lay on the grass in the corner of the playground, smoking, reflecting on everything that had just happened—her wet hair, her white cleavage, and her dripping crotch. I felt utterly ridiculous. I had been too deeply seduced by her fatal attraction, and had suppressed my feelings for too long to do such a thing. And the most despicable thing was that I didn't regret it… The following time was awkward. She didn't speak to me, and I ignored her. Only occasionally did we realize that we were both secretly glancing at each other out of the corner of our eyes. Until one day, everything changed because of a sudden event. My cousin, who went to the same school, had been beaten black and blue by a senior boy and came to me complaining. We had practically grown up together, and my affection for him made it impossible for me to stand idly by. So I went back to my seat, removed the already wobbly chair leg, and prepared to use it as a stick to get revenge on that idiot in the senior grade. She watched me storm out with the chair leg and suddenly called out, "Are you going to fight?" I was filled with resentment, all my emotions controlled by anger, and ignored her, walking straight out of the classroom. She ran out and grabbed me, her beautiful eyes fixed on me, asking again, "Where are you going?" I shook off her hand and walked silently to the idiot's classroom. My cousin pointed out that idiot to me at the classroom door. I rushed over and smashed his head with the leg of a chair. I didn't care about my surroundings; I just chased him around the classroom, relentlessly hitting him, almost frantically, focusing solely on his head. Countless feet kicked me until he bled profusely. I was also beaten dizzy by the others, but I still held onto his hair tightly, refusing to let go. My arm was pinned down, so I used my forehead to push against him. Later, a dozen boys trampled me underfoot and kicked me repeatedly. Through the gaps in the crowd, I suddenly saw her watching me from a short distance away. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she looked very nervous. Her big eyes seemed a little moist. I don't know how it ended. I stayed in the hospital for a day. When I returned to school, I was publicly criticized by the whole school and received a major demerit. It was said to be a fight between grades, a serious matter. I remember the principal saying something particularly funny: "I've only ever heard of older students bullying younger students; this is the first time I've seen a younger student beat an older student." After writing a self-criticism and having my parents called, I was finally able to attend classes normally. I had bandages on my back but no stool to sit on. (The stool leg was missing.) She watched me helplessly kick the three-legged stool and, for the first time, smiled at me. Then she shifted her position, making room for half of her own stool: "Sit here for now." I hesitated for a moment, then slowly sat down. We each sat on half of the same stool, our bodies pressed close together. Years have passed, but I still can't forget the warmth of her body and the complex emotions I felt at that moment. From then on, we had a new beginning. She seemed to have developed a great interest in me. Under these circumstances, our relationship followed a predictable path, like every campus romance, progressing rapidly: our first kiss, my first touch of her breasts, until the first time I entered her body. It was in a dark private room of a video arcade, where we both unpreparedly gave ourselves to each other for the first time. We had initially maintained our boundaries, not wanting to leave a shadow in that place, but under the influence of several erotic scenes on the screen, we finally lost control, especially me, who, with no experience, began to fumble around using the clumsy techniques I had learned from porn. I kissed her soft lips, forcefully thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Her breathing quickened, and she braced her hands against my chest. Like a porn star, I licked her neck, her ears, and slowly, little by little, down her collarbone. She closed her eyes, lying back on the sofa, her chest heaving. I clumsily pulled up her vest, looking at her trembling breasts, full and round, so white in the dim light. I gently grasped them with both hands, slowly kneading them in opposite directions, the firm flesh sending waves of pleasure through my palms to my brain. I took her two pink nipples into my mouth, circling them with my tongue, and suddenly sucked hard amidst her soft sucking sounds, causing her to cry out "Ah!" in surprise. I stroked her buttocks, those round, almost curled-up buttocks with firm elasticity, making a steady sound when I patted them. I moved my hand down her buttocks to her inner thighs, pressing against her trouser seam.I felt a warm sensation in my hand as I touched her crotch. I slowly rubbed it, watching her cheeks flush, her small lips slightly parted, emitting soft breaths. I was aroused, unable to resist the stimulation, and had no time for further foreplay. I hastily pulled down her pants and white panties, forgetting that I hadn't taken my own pants off. So, while nervously unbuckling my belt, I peered at the thick pubic hair between her legs. She seemed embarrassed as I started to undress, turning her head away, closing her eyes, one hand covering her genitals, the other covering her chest. I quickly pulled down my own underwear, my penis erect and ready to be released. I roughly parted her legs and pressed my body against hers. She hesitated, pushing me away. But I couldn't give up now. I removed her hands and pressed my penis against her crotch. I remembered the scenes in porn where they had to separate the labia, but back then I didn't understand the vast difference between a virgin's and a prostitute's genitals. I used my thumbs to pry open the edges of her vulva, searching for the opening with my penis. This action seemed to hurt her; she cried out and began to struggle. I thrust a few more times, still unable to find the entrance, and grew impatient, sweating profusely. Her resistance only fueled my frustration and aroused my desire. I gripped my penis, rubbing the glans against her vulva, trying to separate her labia with a squeezing motion. I sensed she wasn't very wet, but not dry either, so I increased the intensity and speed of the friction. She suddenly became very excited, gripping my arm tightly and moaning continuously. Finally, I felt a very soft part and pushed in forcefully, little by little. I could feel the pleasure of my glans being rubbed as it entered; although each step was difficult, with enough effort, I could go deeper. I felt a little nervous—was it really inside? When it was about halfway in, I felt a tightness in front, and the feeling of my glans being enveloped intensified. I couldn't tell from her expression whether it was pain or pleasure; she was just moaning softly. I really wanted it all the way in, so I straightened my back and thrust in hard. I felt a sudden sense of relief, and she cried out in that instant. She struggled and pushed me away, yelling that it hurt. I was a little scared, unsure how to handle the situation. Although I'd heard that virgins experience pain the first time, I still felt a bit guilty, yet also a sense of accomplishment that I wasn't entirely sure of. "I've lost my virginity," I thought, both excited and incredulous. I touched her face, my body covered in sweat, and told her to bear with it. "You're a virgin, but I'm a virgin too, it just doesn't hurt." After a while, my penis started to soften. Because of maintaining one position for so long, plus the warm fluid flowing from her vagina, I couldn't stay still any longer. So I tried gently thrusting in and out. She cried out first, then frowned and breathed heavily. I could tell from her cry that she wasn't in much pain, so I didn't hesitate and started rhythmically thrusting in and out. The pleasure intensified, and her moans seemed to become softer and more wanton. I relaxed and began to thrust more vigorously; having held back for so long, I felt a fire burning in my abdomen. Her cries grew louder, and my arms ached from her grip. I mimicked the actions in pornographic films, grabbing her breasts and increasing the pace. After about ten minutes, I suddenly felt a tingling sensation on my scalp and a slight dizziness. A dreamlike orgasm finally brought forth streams of semen deep into her vagina. I collapsed onto her, closing my eyes and gently holding her breasts, my body convulsing slightly. She lay sprawled on the sofa like a rag doll, her heart pounding, clinging tightly to me, motionless. After a while, I lit a cigarette and sat beside her, watching her wipe herself with a tissue. Everything felt like a dream, both real and unreal. A strong sense of satisfaction welled up inside me, and my hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly. In that dimly lit private room, we began our sexual journey together. Although neither of us knew then that we would soon face a breakup, or even imagine the drastic changes that would occur in our futures, at least in that moment, we both felt a solid happiness, a pure satisfaction. That cigarette was the strongest and sweetest I've ever smoked. The second cigarette... She chose to leave the city due to family circumstances, and I, with naive ideals, hoped to hold onto this relationship. Like most young couples, I thought we could be together forever, and I stubbornly believed she was the best girl in the world. However, the outcome proved my naiveté. Two months after I entered her body, she resolutely disappeared from the autumn campus. Although I never expected to meet her again in another city years later, I vaguely knew that our once sincere relationship could only end in such a tragic way. In the days after she left, I was devastated, suffering from the pain of losing my love, and desperately craving to experience the pleasure of sex again. A double contradiction gnawed at my heart, making me live like a walking corpse. This went on for half a year until the following spring when I met a girl who changed all my illusions about true love. Her name was Jing. The reason I didn't mention the first girl's name is because I always held her in the most important place in my heart. I respected her choice and understood her difficulties. Even though she didn't have time to say goodbye, I didn't harbor a single grudge against her. On the contrary, I considered her to represent the most precious love I had ever had. But Jing clearly didn't give me the feeling of so-called love. She was like a dark elf, silently sneaking into my life, at least allowing me to temporarily forget my pain. She was a year older than me. While I was nervously preparing for my senior year of high school, she had already completed half a semester of her freshman year in college. At the time, I had no interest in the electrical engineering university she attended. Moreover, I had heard from some rumors that the girls at that school weren't exactly good people. So, I harbored a shadow in my heart from the beginning. Humans are strange creatures; you might be curious about things you clearly hate. My relationship with Jing began from this mixture of half-dislike and half-curiosity. One weekend afternoon, my classmate and I went to the roller rink to relax. The huge rink was sparsely populated, the music was blasting, and I frantically sprinted around the rink, the image of the first girl's big eyes constantly flashing through my mind. Only when I was completely exhausted did I decide to find a chair to rest. Just then, a stylishly dressed girl walked past me. She wasn't particularly striking in appearance, but she had a great figure, a round, slightly upturned bottom, and she was swaying her legs nervously, seemingly not skating very smoothly. Although she was wearing a jacket, I could still see the outline of her breasts—large and firm—making her waist look incredibly slender. I turned sideways, afraid of being knocked over, and after she passed, I took another closer look at her round bottom; it swayed beautifully. I bought a can of Coke and sat down to watch her. She must have come with friends; two girls not far from her kept turning back to laugh at her. My classmate then came over, sat down next to me, offered me a cigarette, and then also leered at the group of girls. "Which of those three girls do you choose?" he suddenly asked me. "The one with the big boobs." I took a drag of my cigarette, which stung my eyes. "I'll choose the tall one. I wonder which school she's from. She's obviously a slut." He patted me and laughed. I rubbed my eyes and ignored him. Suddenly, I felt incredibly dejected. I flicked away my cigarette butt, stood up, and started running around the room again. A strong longing was suppressed in my heart. Scenes of that time I entered her body flashed before my eyes: her shyness, her cries, the whiteness of her breasts, the warmth of her vagina—all of these deeply aroused me. Lost in thought, I suddenly realized that the big-breasted girl was rushing towards me in terror. I couldn't stop in time; I was moving too fast. I could only instinctively swing my body to the side, using one hand to shield her body and push her to the other side. In that one second of collision, I wasn't prepared at all. It was a completely natural reaction, which caused me to lose my balance and crash hard into the railing. My arm throbbed with pain, then went numb. I clutched the painful spot with my other hand, my heart pounding. Had it broken? I glanced at the girl lying on the ground; she looked shaken, but seemed unharmed. She stood up, pale-faced, staring at me with fear. I gasped, "Are you alright?" She stammered that she was fine, then ran over and touched my arm. "Are you hurt?" I yelled at her not to touch me, but I didn't actually feel any pain. I felt a little relieved; it was probably just a dislocation. She quickly pulled her hand back, looking at me anxiously, her eyes gradually welling up with tears. "I'll go to the hospital with you. I'll pay the medical bills." I didn't argue; I couldn't handle this situation myself. I nodded and struggled to stand. My classmates and her friends gathered around, helping me to change my shoes. Seeing that I was having trouble untying my shoelaces with one hand, she knelt down beside me and started untying them herself. I looked at her taut crotch as she squatted down, the lines of her genitals perfectly outlined, and suddenly felt a surge of urge to reach out and touch it. Then I remembered my arm had just dislocated, and I couldn't help but chuckle self-deprecatingly. She looked up at me, her eyes clear, her expression slightly puzzled: "You can still laugh?" I smiled again, saying with a double meaning, "As long as my arm isn't broken." Little did she know I meant that if it wasn't broken, I could touch it.The girl, full of apologies, said sorry as we took a taxi to the hospital. Since Texi's car couldn't fit five people, her other friend didn't come along. The tall girl got into the car with us. I glanced at my classmate with mixed feelings; he was also secretly looking at me. We exchanged glances, a shared sense of relief. The guy almost burst out laughing. What an interesting coincidence! Just a moment ago, we were talking about these two girls, and now we were sitting in the same car together. Who knew what would happen next? Sure enough, the guy started interrogating the two girls relentlessly. "Which school are you from?" "Do you often come here?" "What do you usually like to do?" "..." It was then that I realized they were students from an open university. A feeling of disgust welled up inside me. Looking at the scenery outside the car window, I began to miss the girl who had been gone for half a year, the lover who gave me my virginity. Listening to their conversation, I sensed they were gradually becoming more familiar with each other. That guy's foul mouth was relentlessly seducing them, successfully bridging the gap between them. I sat there silently, feeling somewhat superfluous. She kept watching me, holding my arm from the moment I got in the car, frequently asking if it hurt. Back then, I was someone who couldn't hide my feelings; my likes and dislikes were written all over my face. After learning they were girls from the Open University, I completely lost interest. I just wanted to get my arm fixed at the hospital as soon as possible. Although those breasts still held some allure, my heart was filled with longing. Perhaps every boy goes through a relatively innocent period before becoming a man, even if they need sex, they stubbornly believe they crave love more. That's what I was like in that taxi. Looking back now, it was called being pretentious, but at the time, that persistence was almost beautiful. Of course, she didn't understand what I was thinking, but she could deeply sense that this guy wasn't as interested in them as that foul-mouthed guy. Perhaps women have this lifelong reluctance to be ignored, or perhaps she really did develop feelings for me. In short, her eyes never left me for a moment. At the hospital, my classmate went to register, but she stayed by my side, looking at me with those clear eyes, saying it would be over soon, just bear with it a little longer. I pushed away her arm that was supporting me, standing alone without saying a word. The tall girl was also curious about my actions, looking at me with disbelief. After my arm was set, I breathed a sigh of relief. That's how people are; even knowing it's nothing, they still can't help feeling fear. As we left the hospital, she quickened her pace, walking up behind me and blocking my way. "My name is Jing, what's yours?" I said casually, my gaze lingering on her chest. "I'm really sorry about today. Luckily, you're alright, but I feel really bad. I wanted to treat you to dinner to make up for it, how about it?" I think she was pretending not to notice me staring at her chest like that. "No need, it's nothing serious. Just be careful next time, don't just rush out and slide in the opposite direction." With that, I walked past her, preparing to go home. "Do you hate me that much?" Suddenly, she shouted behind me. "It's just a meal, are you afraid I'll eat you up?" I stopped and looked back at her, meeting her clear eyes, which held a hint of resentment as she stared at me intently. Her chest heaved; she seemed genuinely excited. "You're the one afraid of being eaten," I deliberately fixed my gaze on her impressive breasts and continued, "We can have a meal, but not today. My arm still hurts a bit. Let's do it another day." "What's your home phone number?" Seeing that I had agreed to have dinner together, her expression softened slightly. I glanced at the foul-mouthed guy chatting animatedly with the tall girl and pointed at him: "Ask him, he knows. Goodbye." Then I turned and left. That's how shameless I am. I was clearly disgusted by them, yet I couldn't resist the thrill, giving each other a chance to take things further. So everyone has a latent restless streak; given the right conditions, they'll be shamelessly shameless. The second meeting was at a Western restaurant called "Guests Come." Since she chose such a place, she couldn't blame me for not being able to pay the bill. I really wanted to experience romance and atmosphere, but this busty girl in front of me couldn't compare to my most beautiful first time. So, without any restraint, I wolfed down my food like a laborer. She stared blankly at me as I haphazardly waved my knife and fork, occasionally frowning as she listened to the loud chewing noises. I knew I must look incredibly stupid, but I felt comfortable this way. "Could you please cooperate a little with the atmosphere here? Don't eat so much steak," she finally couldn't stand it anymore. "You need to chew food at least 60 times for optimal nutrient absorption," I ignored her and prepared to eat my dessert. "You... hehe..." she pointed at me, both angry and amused. I noticed she had two adorable dimples when she smiled. She asked about my life and then recounted her own romantic experiences and university life. I had a feeling she wasn't a virgin anymore. Disgust returned, and I urged her to pay the bill. "That same expression again. Do you really hate me?" she asked angrily. "No, it's my own problem." I thought of her far away, feeling a little depressed. "Explain yourself! What did I do that made you so unwilling to be with me?" She wouldn't let me go, pressing me further. "I want to sleep with you the moment I see you, are you satisfied now?" I blurted out impatiently. She was stunned, at a loss for words, then laughed after a while. "How many girls have you slept with?"She pointed at him: "Ask him, he knows. Goodbye." Then she turned and left. That's just how shameless I am. I was clearly disgusted by them, yet I couldn't resist the thrill, giving each other a chance to go further. So everyone has a latent restless streak; given the right conditions, they'll be shamelessly shameless. Our second meeting was at a Western restaurant called "Guests Come." Since she chose such a place, it wasn't my fault I couldn't afford the bill. I really wanted to experience romance and atmosphere, but this busty girl couldn't compare to that beautiful first time, so I didn't hold back at all, wolfing down my food like a laborer. She stared blankly at me as I haphazardly waved my knife and fork, occasionally frowning as I made loud chewing noises. I knew I must look incredibly stupid, but I felt comfortable this way. "Could you please cooperate a little with the atmosphere here? Don't eat so much steak," she finally couldn't stand it anymore. "You need to chew food at least 60 times to fully absorb nutrients." I ignored her and prepared to eat my dessert. "You...heh..." She pointed at me, both angry and amused. I noticed she had two adorable dimples when she smiled. She asked about my life and then recounted her own romantic experiences and university life. I had a feeling she wasn't a virgin anymore. Disgust returned, and I urged her to pay the bill. "That same expression again. Do you really hate me?" she asked angrily. "No, it's my own problem." I thought of her far away and felt a little depressed. "Explain yourself! What did I do that makes you so unwilling to be with me?" She wouldn't let me off the hook, continuing to press. "I want to sleep with you the moment I see you, are you satisfied now?" I blurted out impatiently. She was stunned, at a loss for words, and then laughed again after a while. "How many girls have you slept with?"She pointed at him: "Ask him, he knows. Goodbye." Then she turned and left. That's just how shameless I am. I was clearly disgusted by them, yet I couldn't resist the thrill, giving each other a chance to go further. So everyone has a latent restless streak; given the right conditions, they'll be shamelessly shameless. Our second meeting was at a Western restaurant called "Guests Come." Since she chose such a place, it wasn't my fault I couldn't afford the bill. I really wanted to experience romance and atmosphere, but this busty girl couldn't compare to that beautiful first time, so I didn't hold back at all, wolfing down my food like a laborer. She stared blankly at me as I haphazardly waved my knife and fork, occasionally frowning as I made loud chewing noises. I knew I must look incredibly stupid, but I felt comfortable this way. "Could you please cooperate a little with the atmosphere here? Don't eat so much steak," she finally couldn't stand it anymore. "You need to chew food at least 60 times to fully absorb nutrients." I ignored her and prepared to eat my dessert. "You...heh..." She pointed at me, both angry and amused. I noticed she had two adorable dimples when she smiled. She asked about my life and then recounted her own romantic experiences and university life. I had a feeling she wasn't a virgin anymore. Disgust returned, and I urged her to pay the bill. "That same expression again. Do you really hate me?" she asked angrily. "No, it's my own problem." I thought of her far away and felt a little depressed. "Explain yourself! What did I do that makes you so unwilling to be with me?" She wouldn't let me off the hook, continuing to press. "I want to sleep with you the moment I see you, are you satisfied now?" I blurted out impatiently. She was stunned, at a loss for words, and then laughed again after a while. "How many girls have you slept with?"
"One." I stared straight at her, deciding to let it go; she probably wouldn't care about such things anyway. "Haha, how many times?" She seemed quite interested. "Once." I glanced at her sideways, wondering what tricks she was up to. "Oh, that's not much different from being a virgin. Hehe..." She laughed heartily. "Damn! So what! Is it shameful? Your sexual experience must be more extensive than mine." I was somewhat provoked by her laughter, retaliating maliciously. She stopped laughing, her eyes dimming instantly. She looked down at the glass in front of her, silent. I felt uneasy. For a few seconds, I admit I was captivated by the melancholy in her gaze; I even suddenly felt a pang of heartache. "Um, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you..." I broke the silence and apologized. "It's okay, you're right. I've been with two men, many times." She interrupted me, then continued, "Sometimes it was forced, but most of the time it was voluntary." "You must think I'm promiscuous, that's why you hate me, right?" She took a sip of red wine, looking directly at me. "No, I just can't forget the first girl." I also confessed the pain I didn't want to talk about. "You're a good person. I knew it the moment you pushed me away at the roller rink. You're a good person, much stronger than the two people who touched me." Her eyes reddened slightly as she spoke slowly. "Any man would have done the same in that situation." I really thought so. "Hmph..." She sneered and didn't say anything more. After dinner, we strolled around the streets for a while, and I took her back to school. I felt that this meal had made me feel good about her. In the days that followed, we started seeing each other frequently. Although we didn't establish a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, we talked about almost everything. I felt no burden in front of her, and her affection for me led her to tolerate all my bad habits. One weekend after the college entrance exams, we finally had sex. She was sharing a one-bedroom apartment near the school with that tall girl. She invited me over under the guise of showing me her new place and letting me try her cooking. After dinner, we sat on the bed chatting, and her enormous breasts finally overwhelmed me. I couldn't hear what she was saying anymore; I just wanted to slip my hand inside her collar. Those high mounds constantly tempted my senses. I completely abandoned my inner conflict and suddenly reached out and grasped that softness. She was startled and instinctively tried to pull away, but I pounced on her, pressing down on her and continuing to caress her breasts. She understood my determination and gradually stopped struggling. I remember being attracted to her breasts the first time I saw her; with her proportions, those white, tender breasts were excessively full. But I just loved that full shape and always fantasized about the feel of holding them. Now that my wish had finally come true, I said almost nothing, just slowly removed her white bra and began to knead them repeatedly. I wanted to deeply imprint this feeling in my mind. She closed her eyes, the kneading seeming to please her. She arched her chest to meet my movements, seeking greater satisfaction. I kissed her lips; they weren't as soft as I'd imagined. So I kissed my way down her chin, each kiss light and fleeting. She shifted her body; the slight contact of our skin perhaps made her feel a tingling sensation. I licked her nipple with my tongue; the areola was a pale brown, the nipple large and firm. I gently took it into my mouth and slowly sucked. I didn't know how her previous men had done it; I just wanted to make her feel comfortable with gentleness, even if she might prefer something wilder. She was somewhat aroused; I felt her hands constantly stroking my shoulders. It felt good, very satisfying. She knew better than my first girl how to please a man. I slipped my hand inside her pants. Good heavens, even through her underwear, I could feel how wet she was. Her underwear was warm and damp, sticky to the touch. I stroked up and down along the cleft, rubbing her genitals with a slow, rhythmic motion. She moaned softly, surprisingly docile, spreading her legs to let me do as I pleased. At the same time, she placed her hand on my crotch, caressing the bulge. I felt the heat from her palm, and my penis swelled even more. I pulled down her panties; there was a sticky liquid on them. I couldn't resist smelling them; they had no odor. I ran my fingers over her labia, and her moans grew louder. Her eyelids opened slightly, and she squinted at me. The movements of her hand on my crotch quickened. I was intoxicated by her wanton appearance and inserted my middle finger into her vagina. It was hot, very wet, and the vaginal walls had many folds. I stirred gently, and her moans sounded like cries. Suddenly, she said in a slightly hoarse voice that she couldn't take it anymore, then sat up and pulled off my panties. She gripped my penis tightly, looked up at me shyly, and said, "I really like this thing of yours." Then she opened her mouth and took the glans in. A wave of tingling sensation washed over me; the heat of her mouth warmed every nerve in my penis, and a feeling of being tightly enveloped surged through my body like an electric current. I'd always imagined what it would feel like to be in a woman's mouth when I watched porn, but I never imagined that when it actually happened, it would be even more wonderful than I'd imagined. She carefully licked my penis, circling her tongue along the coronal sulcus. Then she licked every fold and crevice. I felt like I was in paradise, my whole body so light I felt like I was floating. She held my glans tightly, swallowing and releasing rhythmically. From my first time making love until now, it seemed only at this moment did I truly understand what pleasure was. The fire in my abdomen burned brighter and brighter, and finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and was about to ejaculate. I held her head down and thrust forcefully into her mouth. She knew I was about to climax, and she sucked even harder. With a low growl, my whole body convulsed, and I ejaculated entirely into her mouth. After I calmed down, she went to the bathroom to wash up. Listening to the running water, I felt incredibly satisfied. At the same time, I seemed to forget about the girl who had left me. What's meant to leave will leave; no matter how much pain I was in, it wouldn't change anything. A little while later, she smiled and snuggled into my arms, asking if I was comfortable. I said I was almost dead. She then jokingly asked if I could give her the rest of my life. I said I had to wait, as I couldn't get an erection right after ejaculating. She smiled, lowered her head, and touched my penis, kissing and biting it, saying, "When you're erect, it's not particularly thick, but it's very long. It will definitely make me feel very good when we're doing it." I said, "No wonder you said you liked it." She chuckled and took it into her mouth, slowly sucking and swallowing. Soon, I was hard again, and I couldn't help but touch her labia, hoping to give her pleasure as well. She kept stroking it, a little embarrassed, and asked if I was ready. I sat up, parted her thighs, grasped my penis, and slowly inserted it into her wet vulva. Entry was smoother than I expected, but her vagina wasn't loose at all; it felt tightly wrapped around my penis, making every friction pleasurable. She was very wet and hot; I could see the edges of her labia glistening. After about 10 minutes, she asked to change positions. Although I wasn't a virgin, I'd only had that one experience, so I completely let her have her way. She sat on top of me, straddling my hips, holding my penis in her hand, first rubbing the glans against her labia, then sitting down towards her opening. I'd seen this position before, so I moved in sync with her movements, arching my hips, and it went quite smoothly. She seemed to really like this position, like a woman in a porn film, holding her breasts and kneading them constantly. This time, the sex lasted longer, probably because I'd just ejaculated; it lasted about 40 minutes. We tried three positions, and when I finally ejaculated, she frantically squeezed her legs together, wanting me to ejaculate deep inside. When everything calmed down, I lit a cigarette. The truly exhilarating feeling lingered in my mind, and I began to deeply understand that experienced women make you feel much better. Unlike virgins, they understand men better, know what it takes to reach orgasm, and are willing to satisfy you. Virgins, on the other hand, only offer a man's primal desire to conquer and a strong sense of vanity. I knew I was infatuated with this voluptuous body; she was a woman through and through, a woman who could make you feel secure. I stubbed out my cigarette and opened my arms to her for the first time. I knew I didn't love her as a person, but I couldn't help but love her body. That month, we made love almost every day, using various positions and exhausting our passion. From her, I gained a wealth of experience. I dare not say I could satisfy every woman, but I could definitely make them feel comfortable. This kind of life continued until the day I received my university acceptance letter. I went to a university in Beijing. I remember the last time we made love before I left, it ended with her tears. She bit my shoulder hard, bursting into tears as she reached her climax, her vaginal fluids soaking the bed, her tears wetting the pillowcase. The sight of her crying out my name deeply touched my heart. She might not have been the woman who loved me the most, but she was certainly the one who loved in the simplest way. In August 2000, carrying her despair, I arrived in Beijing. I was quite familiar with Beijing; I'd been there so many times that it felt stale. The school that accepted me wasn't particularly prestigious, so I wasn't overjoyed. And it was in this ordinariness that I stepped onto another stage of my life, a stage I'd dreamed of countless times.My university life turned out to be nothing more than this. In comparison, I was more attached to Jing's body; the carnal satisfaction she provided had given me a powerful shock. I wondered if her next man would feel the same happiness as I did, and what my next woman would be like. Amidst these chaotic thoughts, I registered for university and was assigned a dormitory. From these two women, I experienced two extremes, which slightly altered my outlook on life and values. I began to reshape myself. Since I was going to start a new life, I would begin with my appearance. I grew my hair long and concealed some of my facial flaws. Although I wasn't handsome, I had a pair of bright, expressive eyes. I remembered Jing once touching my double eyelids and describing my eyes as having an icy quality. My vanity firmly believed that was the best description, even if it was a bit narcissistic. Every boy wants to be handsome, even without a muscular physique. I, on the other hand, felt that the most important thing for a man was his charisma, at least a commanding presence. I bid farewell to my innocent self and headed towards the unknown future. I became increasingly aloof, losing interest in everything around me. The only thing I enjoyed doing was playing guitar, and later I formed a band with a few other guys who shared my dissatisfaction with life. But that's another story. I studied Chinese literature, and there were twice as many girls as boys in my department. So I felt like I was living in a gloomy atmosphere all the time. Although more girls meant more opportunities, unfortunately, there were very few beautiful girls, only four or five. I became even more depressed, especially since the beautiful girls didn't like to study and almost none of them attended a full class. Imagine being surrounded by a bunch of idiots in the classroom, and you'll understand how annoyed I felt. So I never initiated conversations with anyone. Besides attending classes, I was online, or I'd go back to my dorm and chat with those guys. There were six of us in my dorm, two of whom were virgins. I told them some fragmented stories and discovered their personality differences. For example, if I said, "Her pubic area is very pubic," A would react, blushing and getting worked up. But B didn't react at all. But when I said, "She has a lot of pubic hair!" B reacted strongly, her eyes practically popping out. The same content, expressed in different ways, could have such different effects. Unfortunately, I'm no longer as innocent as they are. The student council encouraged us to choose different clubs, and I chose the dance club. The reasons were simple: first, I like modern dance, and second, there are many girls there. Then, the heroine of this third cigarette appeared beside me, a Han Chinese girl from Xinjiang named Xue. She was in the accounting department, with great skin, befitting her name. My first impression of her was her striking beauty. Her features were exquisitely delicate, especially her eyebrows and eyes, which were sharply defined, I heard she inherited it from her mother. She had long hair, which she liked to tie in a simple ponytail, with a few strands of bangs neatly tucked behind her ears. She was tall, her breasts weren't particularly full, but she had a slim waist and long legs, making her proportions look perfect. I especially liked her hips, which reminded me of a round, almost curled-up bottom. She stood casually in the crowd, but very noticeable; one glance was enough to draw your attention to her. I listened impatiently as the club president briefly explained the rules, including the group's purpose, direction, spirit, and route, hoping she'd finish her rambling. I secretly glanced at the girl from Xinjiang; she seemed to be listening attentively, but I noticed her gaze was subtly wandering. I guessed she wasn't one for idle chatter either. Her eyes were truly beautiful, dark and bright, radiating a captivating energy. As I was observing her closely, suddenly, those eyes caught mine and noticed me staring intently. I assumed that, in most cases, when a girl makes eye contact with a stranger, the girl's gaze would be the first to look away. Unexpectedly, she showed no shyness or fear, neither dodging nor flinching, just staring at me with a defiant intensity. I felt a little insecure, suppressing the urge to turn away, maintaining that posture, afraid that avoiding eye contact would be embarrassing. But I couldn't bear the light in her pupils. Thirty seconds later, I gave her a thumbs-up and quickly turned away. I guess she was laughing at my cowardice. The club president finally finished his rambling and asked us to introduce ourselves, one by one. I listened to a bit of the conversation; most of them were from the north, but they had clearly prepared their introductions beforehand, speaking in a well-structured and unhurried manner, comprehensively promoting themselves in hopes of gaining more attention. When it was my turn, I really didn't know what to say. I simply said, "My name is xxx," and then shut my mouth and didn't say another word. Everyone was obviously waiting for what would follow, not realizing that self-introductions could be so brief. At this moment, the club president asked me, "That's it?" I said, "That's it." Suddenly, the girl from Xinjiang said something that made me a little embarrassed: "So boring!" Honestly, I don't know how many people have experienced how it feels for a man to be told "boring" by a beautiful woman, but I felt a little ashamed and a little angry. I couldn't help but retort, word by word, "I really have nothing to say. As for whether it's interesting or not, you'll find out later." Seeing my fierce gaze, she finally understood the deeper meaning behind my words, blushed slightly, and lowered her head under my gaze, avoiding my eyes. Everyone stared at me in astonishment, a few guys secretly laughing. I nudged the simpleton next to me with my shoulder, signaling her to continue her introduction. After a while, it was the Xinjiang girl's turn to introduce herself. She first glanced at me intentionally or unintentionally, then confidently and loudly proclaimed, "My name is X Xue, I'm from Urumqi. I'm the product of Han and Uyghur ancestry, so I have a dual personality. I hope we can get along well in the days to come..."When making eye contact with a stranger, the first look to leave is definitely that of the girl. She wasn't shy or afraid, neither looking away nor flinching, just staring at me with a provocative gaze. I felt a little insecure, suppressing the urge to turn away, maintaining that posture, afraid that avoiding eye contact would be embarrassing. But I couldn't bear the light in her pupils. After thirty seconds, I gave her a thumbs-up and quickly turned my head away. I guess she was laughing at my cowardice. The club president finally finished his rambling and asked us to introduce ourselves, one by one. I listened to a bit; most were from the north, but they had clearly prepared their introductions beforehand, speaking in a well-structured, unhurried manner, comprehensively promoting themselves in hopes of gaining more attention. When it was my turn, I really didn't know what to say. I simply said, "My name is xxx," and then shut my mouth and didn't say another word. Everyone was obviously waiting for what to say next, not realizing that self-introductions could be so brief. At this moment, the club president asked me, "That's all?" I said, "That's all." Suddenly, the girl from Xinjiang said something that made me a little embarrassed: "So boring!" Honestly, I don't know how many people have experienced the feeling of a man being told he's boring by a beautiful woman, but I felt a little ashamed and a little angry. I couldn't help but retort, word by word, "I really don't have anything to say. As for whether it's boring or not, you'll find out later." Looking at my fierce gaze, she finally understood the deeper meaning of my words, blushed slightly, and lowered her head under my gaze, avoiding my eyes. Everyone stared at me in astonishment, and a few guys secretly laughed. I nudged the dumb guy next to me with my shoulder, signaling her to continue her introduction. After a while, it was the Xinjiang girl's turn to introduce herself. She first glanced at me intentionally or unintentionally, then confidently and loudly said, "My name is Xue, I'm from Urumqi. I'm the product of Han and Uyghur ancestry, so I have a dual personality. I hope we can get along well in the days to come..."When making eye contact with a stranger, the first look to leave is definitely that of the girl. She wasn't shy or afraid, neither looking away nor flinching, just staring at me with a provocative gaze. I felt a little insecure, suppressing the urge to turn away, maintaining that posture, afraid that avoiding eye contact would be embarrassing. But I couldn't bear the light in her pupils. After thirty seconds, I gave her a thumbs-up and quickly turned my head away. I guess she was laughing at my cowardice. The club president finally finished his rambling and asked us to introduce ourselves, one by one. I listened to a bit; most were from the north, but they had clearly prepared their introductions beforehand, speaking in a well-structured, unhurried manner, comprehensively promoting themselves in hopes of gaining more attention. When it was my turn, I really didn't know what to say. I simply said, "My name is xxx," and then shut my mouth and didn't say another word. Everyone was obviously waiting for what to say next, not realizing that self-introductions could be so brief. At this moment, the club president asked me, "That's all?" I said, "That's all." Suddenly, the girl from Xinjiang said something that made me a little embarrassed: "So boring!" Honestly, I don't know how many people have experienced the feeling of a man being told he's boring by a beautiful woman, but I felt a little ashamed and a little angry. I couldn't help but retort, word by word, "I really don't have anything to say. As for whether it's boring or not, you'll find out later." Looking at my fierce gaze, she finally understood the deeper meaning of my words, blushed slightly, and lowered her head under my gaze, avoiding my eyes. Everyone stared at me in astonishment, and a few guys secretly laughed. I nudged the dumb guy next to me with my shoulder, signaling her to continue her introduction. After a while, it was the Xinjiang girl's turn to introduce herself. She first glanced at me intentionally or unintentionally, then confidently and loudly said, "My name is Xue, I'm from Urumqi. I'm the product of Han and Uyghur ancestry, so I have a dual personality. I hope we can get along well in the days to come..."
I didn't appreciate the introduction; I found it unoriginal. But I liked her confident smile and the sparkle in her eyes. After she finished speaking, she glanced at me again, and I pursed my lips. She raised her fist, making a gesture as if to hit me, muttering something under her breath. I found her adorable and burst out laughing. I admit I had a relatively happy time in the dance club, not only because I could admire the girls' graceful figures, but more importantly, because I could see Xue's eyes. I was truly captivated by those sparkling eyes, and occasionally, during conversations with my roommates, I would think of her adorable expressions. She seemed quite interested in me too, even though I was always the one teasing her. I felt she must have been very happy. Because she would always smugly call me a pervert and then actually punch me in the chest. I started to fantasize about how she would be different from Jing in bed. Would her vagina be as wet? Was she still a virgin? How elastic would that round, almost curled-up buttock feel when slapped? I really wanted to know all of this. So I started inviting her out for meals, walks, or movies alone. She was usually happy to oblige, but I knew she was still wary of me, so I couldn't let her realize my blatant intentions too soon. Just then, I met some guys who played music and we formed a band. The band's name was rather weird: "Bite." The implied meaning was that when you break it down, it means oral sex. So I spent most of my time rehearsing, and I participated in dance club activities less and less. I wrote a song for that girl who had left. After finishing the lyrics and music, I struggled with the name for a while before finally deciding on this one. The lead guitarist practiced the overall arrangement, and together with the keyboards and drums, we began a passionate original composition. Back then, there weren't all sorts of talent shows like there are now; there were no Super Girls or Super Boys. We all wove our dreams with a simple heart, just wanting to make music. I hadn't seen snow for a while, and just as I was about to go find her, she came to find me first. "What have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you in ages." We were walking along a path in the late afternoon, the early winter air thick with the scent of snow. She asked me, her nose red from the cold. "Just busy with random things, nothing special." I didn't want her to know I'd written a song for another girl and been rehearsing it every day. "Hmph, liar! Tell the truth, do you have a girlfriend?" She poked my chest with her finger, her expression suddenly turning serious. "No, I'm as quiet as a gourd, who would want me? Besides, I'm not interested in anyone else until I've won you over." I took the opportunity to test her reaction. "Haha, this lady won't fall for a gourd's trick." She laughed like a child, her face flushed and incredibly cute. I stared at her, unable to resist touching her cheek. Those beautiful big eyes were lovely even when they were squinted. She tensed up, pushed my hand away, and feigned anger to mask her panic as she scolded me, "What are you touching? I'll chop your hand off!" I smiled, enjoying her embarrassment. "I shouldn't have touched there. I meant to touch your butt." I quickly caught her fist as she swung it, and with my other hand, I wrapped my arm around her waist, leading her on. "Cold, aren't you? Stop fooling around, walk with me a little longer." A familiar emotion seemed to well up inside me again—that long-lost, simple longing for love. She was understanding, quietly leaning against my arm, enjoying the peaceful and comfortable atmosphere. We walked slowly under the dim streetlights. No confession was needed, no extra words were required. On this cold night, we just wanted to comfortably seek warmth in each other's embrace. Christmas was approaching, and the school had arranged a party. Various departments and groups were actively preparing their performances. Because I joined a dance club and a band, I had to prepare two performances with two different teams. Xue naturally arranged for me to be in a Xinjiang dance performance, and I did a lively dance with a few idiots. Those guys were very stiff, so rehearsals didn't go very smoothly. At the same time, I also had to find time to coordinate with the band, practice three songs, and so on. I was so busy that I was dizzy, even talking in my sleep about "a pair of hands that can't be decorated..." Finally, the day of the actual performance arrived, and I wasn't too nervous. I was more worried that Xue wouldn't be able to accept it after learning the truth about that song. I know that although she seems carefree, she is quite sensitive inside, and she probably wouldn't allow me to be thinking about other girls when we're together. Although, it was just a commemorative act for me. The party was quite successful. All our performances went smoothly, except for one of the girls in an Indian dance whose strapless top burst and fell down due to excessive movement. Xue was very excited that day, and her emotions were very high, not only because her performance was well received, but also because both of my performances caused a sensation in the audience. I think the reason was probably that they didn't expect me, usually so quiet, to be able to dance and sing so energetically. It was like seeing a gorilla looking in a mirror. Christmas Eve was brightly lit, but she wasn't done yet and suggested going clubbing. I took her to the "Volcano" disco near the Central University for Nationalities, where we sweated buckets. At two in the morning, we had no choice but to book a hotel room. Actually, I knew she had expected this, but she was willing to do it anyway. I finally took off her underwear, and could admire her round, almost curled-up buttocks without reservation. Her fair skin was very elastic. I remembered my past desires and slapped her buttocks hard. With a crisp "smack," her resilient buttocks jiggled tightly before quickly returning to their original shape. She cursed at me loudly, and I was satisfied. I kissed her lips, licking every one of her teeth, and then tightly sucked on her small, smooth tongue, listening to the whimpering sounds coming from her throat. I reached out and stroked her breasts, round but not particularly full. I instinctively kneaded them in the opposite direction, and she seemed to enjoy it, arching her back and closing her eyes to savor it. Her nipples were hard; I could feel their erection as I licked them, the fine, light downy hairs standing on end, rubbing against my tongue, probably from stimulation. I didn't ask if she was still a virgin, because I felt it was irrelevant. When I licked her navel, she chuckled, perhaps feeling a little ticklish. But as I licked down to her thick pubic hair, she suddenly grabbed my face, stopping me from continuing. I knew she was a little shy, so I didn't force her. I wanted to put my penis in her mouth, but I knew she would refuse. So I took off my clothes and let her grasp my penis with her hand. She hesitated, touched it briefly, then turned her head away, refusing to look at it again. I smiled, almost certain she hadn't experienced another penis before. I touched her vulva, feeling it wasn't very wet. So I covered her, kneading her breasts while licking her earlobe. At the same time, I gently rubbed the head of my penis against her labia. She was initially a little uncomfortable, but gradually stopped resisting. Feeling the time was right, before she could react, I slowly inserted my penis into her opening. It wasn't smooth; only the head went in, and she started screaming. I tried to concentrate, focusing all my strength on my penis, while using my hands to spread her thighs wider. She still cried out in pain. I told her to relax and get used to my penis. Tears welled in her eyes, and she said she wouldn't have done it if she'd known it would hurt this much. I hardened my heart, kissed her lips, and forcefully pushed my tongue into her mouth. As she gasped for breath, I thrust my hips forward, and my entire penis went in. She screamed, the sound echoing in my mouth. Tears streamed down her face. I held her writhing body and gently kissed away her tears. "Just a little longer, it'll be over soon." After two or three minutes, I slowly pulled my penis out. She immediately tensed up, grabbing my shoulders and begging me not to move. I slowly inserted it back in, asking her if it hurt less. She was silent for a moment, then nodded. I began to thrust rhythmically, leaving room for each thrust, trying not to go too deep, until her cries turned into moans. Only then did I feel comfortable enjoying the pleasure of the friction. Her vagina, which had been tightly gripping my glans, gradually widened and relaxed little by little. She flushed, repeatedly saying she couldn't take it anymore. I increased the frequency, and she became even more excited, grabbing and touching herself wildly. I decided to tease her, suddenly thrusting down hard until the bottom was completely filled. She gasped and punched my shoulder hard. I felt very satisfied looking at her cute expression, and thrust harder, preparing for the arrival of orgasm. Amid her rhythmic moans, we reached the peak of excitement simultaneously. Just in case, I pulled out my penis at the last second and ejaculated onto her breasts. The first time was out of ignorance; luckily, she didn't get pregnant. I felt completely at ease having sex with Jing; her experience taught her when to use a condom and when it was the safe period. Even when I wasn't sure if it was truly safe, she would buy birth control pills, so I had no worries. But Xue was different. She didn't have a clear concept of these things. Although she was also afraid of pregnancy, she was more easily swayed by the pleasure of sex. I didn't use a condom, so I had to withdraw. She looked a little embarrassed, or perhaps uncomfortable, as the milky white semen covered her breasts, and struggled to sit up, wiping herself repeatedly with tissues. Watching her wipe one tissue after another, I couldn't help but tease her, "Don't wipe anymore; it's good for your skin."
"Nonsense! It smells like disinfectant, don't try to fool me!" She glared at me seriously. I chuckled, said nothing more, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. She rested her head on my arm and said softly, "I don't like the smell of smoke, but I like watching you smoke. It's melancholic, and cool." I said, "You're not the first person to say that." She sat up and pressed me to tell her who it was. I hesitated for a moment, then told her about my first time. "There's something I don't want to hide from you, I hope you won't be angry, that song, actually, was written for her." She stared at me blankly, the light in her big eyes gradually dimming. After a long silence, she asked me painfully, "What am I, her substitute? If you can't forget her, why did you come to me?" She began to struggle hysterically, sobbing uncontrollably. "No, I just wanted to remember her, it's all in the past, don't overthink it." I felt a headache coming on; she was finally as I thought, too bothered by this matter. She collapsed to the side, crying, her back to me. Without a word, I took my last drag of the cigarette, stubbed it out, and covered her with the blanket. Later, she always believed I was a liar who only wanted to sleep with her and betray her feelings. The last message she left on my pager was: "I finally fell for a lousy guy's tricks, I hate you..."
Maybe I shouldn't have lit that cigarette that night, but she would find out sooner or later. In a woman's mind, what men consider trivial issues are often magnified infinitely, until they drive the two people further and further apart...
(To be continued) [Last edited by shinyuu1988] qwee Gold Coins +5 Reposting and sharing for the benefit of the masses, all forum members salute you!

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