Memories of first love

Memories of First Love

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Memories of First Love (1)

Everyone's first love is different. Now I am a wife, but I still think about the days I spent with him. It can be said that the pain was more than the happiness at that time. Now, there is no distinction between bitterness and joy in my memories. There is just such a person in my memory.

I am not a pretty girl, especially when I was in middle school. I was very fat. Although I often wanted to experience the taste of love, no one would notice my existence. After entering the senior year of high school, I suddenly became slim and started to dress up. It was like a girl's transformation at 18. However, I did not notice this myself. I was self-conscious for a long time and was also busy with my studies. So I did not know that the boys at that time liked me. I only found out after I got married. At that time, there were many boys who wanted to play with me in the senior year of high school, but I was too arrogant and others did not dare to.

Finally, I went to university and was liberated. I really wanted to have a boyfriend. To be honest, I first saw him on my way to school. The bus was packed that day; I was on the bus, and he was on the ground. It was the beginning of the semester, and we weren't very familiar with each other yet. I knew he was my classmate, but I couldn't remember his name. Because the bus was so crowded, the doors kept closing. He stood there casually, not intending to suffer the discomfort of squeezing onto the bus, and he didn't even see me. So I had a chance to get a good look at him. Actually, I didn't have any feelings for him at that time. It's just that he was tall, thin, and had a very charismatic presence that always attracted attention. The bus finally drove away, and I continued to recall what he looked like. I started to feel a little flutter in my heart; this boy seemed pretty nice.

It was time to change to a suburban bus. I waited and waited, but the bus didn't come. Instead, he showed up. There were many people at the station, and everyone was preoccupied with their own vanity, so they pretended not to see each other. Finally, a bus arrived, but the small bus couldn't hold so many people. Carrying my heavy reference books, I couldn't even squeeze on, let alone fight for a seat. The station was empty, except for the elderly, the infirm, and the disabled.

As darkness fell, fear crept into my heart. The school was in the suburbs; after getting off the bus, I'd have to walk a long, long way through vegetable fields. What would I do alone? Finally, a bus came along, and I boarded the last one, hoping to bump into a few classmates for courage. Otherwise, I'd take another bus back to the city, find somewhere to stay, and return to school the next day. When I

got off, the sky was full of stars. Except for the station lights, it was pitch black just a few steps away. Not a single classmate, not a soul in sight. Clutching my backpack, my skirt felt cool against my legs, and a chill ran through me. My heart pounded. Oh well, back to the city.

Thinking of crossing the road, I glanced left and right. There seemed to be someone crouching on the roadside not far away. Terrified, I turned and ran. My backpack, however, betrayed me; the strap snapped under the weight of the books, slamming into my foot like a hammer. Tears welled in my eyes. Looking back, I saw that person running towards me again. I dropped my backpack and ran, thankful I was wearing flat shoes. I regularly exercise, and most people can't catch me (I'm a national level two middle-distance runner).

The person shouted, "Don't run, I'm coming for you!" I ignored them and ran! But I was caught red-handed after only a few steps. Because I was running so hard, I couldn't hear anything. With a "ripping" sound, my silk shirt ripped open from the shoulder. I almost went hysterical, screaming, "Ah! Ah!" After breaking free, I ran on, tears and snot streaming down my face (a gang rape had happened here before at our school; the school leaders had repeatedly warned against returning home late at night). My legs gave way, and I fell flat on my face.

Just then, a pair of large hands touched my shoulders. "It's me!" I heard someone shout repeatedly. I turned around and vaguely saw it was him! I didn't care about anything else anymore; I buried my face in his chest and burst into tears. It

was pitch black, and the wind had picked up somehow, tearing most of my clothes away. I was shivering. He had sat down and was holding me tightly in his arms. I stopped crying, only sobbing remained. I was covered in sweat, tears, and dirt, completely exhausted. Even though I realized I was in the arms of a strange man, I didn't have the strength to stand up.

His hands were large and warm, holding me close. I felt as if I had melted into his chest. Without a word, his other hand slowly lifted my head from his chest. I couldn't see anything clearly, only his bright eyes.
"It's alright. I've been waiting for you here for a long time. I was worried you weren't coming back!"

A string of tears streamed down my swollen eyes. He lowered his head deeply and kissed me from the corner of my eye. My heart began to pound, for the first time, even though I was already 19. His hands slowly moved down my bare back, starting from my shoulders and slowly moving downwards. His lips landed on mine, his tongue parting my lips and teeth, exploring my tongue, then holding it tightly. My chill began to disappear, and my breathing became rapid. His hands moved to my chest, forcibly slipping under my bra, one large hand grasping my breast.

My breathing became even more rapid, matching his heavy heartbeat. My lower body inexplicably heated up, spreading to my inner thighs, my entire triangle area feeling tingly and numb. His hard thing pressed against my waist. His lips parted mine, allowing me to breathe. His lips touched my earlobe, gently biting it, his deep voice saying, "Your breasts are so big, so firm, your waist is so slender." His hands began to pinch my nipples, and I couldn't help but moan. His grip only tightened.

"Your nipples are slowly emerging like thorns." Hearing his voice, I slowly leaned against his lap, letting his hands roam over my chest. My silk blouse was torn to shreds. He deftly unhooked my bra, and my breasts were exposed before him. The moon climbed out of the clouds, and I saw his admiring gaze.

"You're so white!" His hands continued their journey, unbuttoning my skirt and reaching down. Ah! My crotch trembled. He rubbed against my tight panties, touching my loose pubic hair, and finally, he slipped his hand inside, caressing my thick pubic hair. I began to writhe restlessly, moaning.

He seemed to revel in my moans and writhing, and finally, his hand gently touched my vulva, which was already wet. He couldn't help but chuckle. At my doorway, his hand moved up and down, parting my lower lip from below, following the moisture upwards, stopping at my clitoris, then kneading it in a circular motion. The feeling of emptiness inside me intensified, and I began to unconsciously scratch his face, his lips, his chest, my body writhing.

He guided my hand to his member, and I was astonished. I hadn't known a man could be so magnificent. I carefully grasped it, unsure of what to do.

"First time?" he asked, somewhat surprised. "Mmm," I replied.

He gently pushed me away, stopping all movement. A cool breeze blew by, and my sensation inexplicably ceased.
"I can't take responsibility for you." He stood up, helping me up. I stood helplessly before him, and he gently smoothed my hair, trying to conceal my body with his clothes. It was still that large hand, warmly wiping away the dirt, sweat, and tears from my face, pulling me back.

We seemed to have run a long way, walking for a long time before finally returning to the station. I was so exhausted, inside and out, that I was too weak to pull my hand away, too weak to think or say anything! The backpack was still there; he picked it up. To him, the weight of that backpack was nothing!

"Did you bring any other clothes?" he asked me considerately, having regained his composure. I took out an autumn outfit I'd bought while buying reference books and changed into it in the shadows. I found a bottle of water (for drinking on the way, I hadn't thrown it away) and some tissues, washed my face, and ran my fingers through my hair. My hair is long and thick, and after all that fuss, it was a mess. I quickly twisted it up and tied it up. The silk dress was completely ruined; I held it in my hand, ready to throw it away.

He remained silent, his back to the shadowy figure. After I finished tidying up, I felt much lighter. I stepped out of the shadowy area and stood beside him. It was already past midnight, and the fields were quiet. We didn't exchange a word. After a long while, he turned and looked at me, surprised that I had tidied up so quickly and neatly. He actually smiled.

"You look beautiful!" Then he began to introduce himself, saying his name, his age, his hobbies. At this small train station, he told me he couldn't be responsible for anyone; he didn't have the ability. He didn't want to ruin my future. Although he had many sexual experiences, he had never been with a virgin, and he was afraid. Besides, we didn't know each other very well; I had acted impulsively just now.

He was indeed waiting for me there, worried I'd come back too late alone, just fulfilling his duty as a senior, etc. He said a lot, but I just listened without reacting. I didn't know what to say, or perhaps I didn't want to say anything
...

My university life afterwards was colorful. I participated in various activities, but I never felt interested in boys. I joined the school's modern dance class, and because of my good figure and previous ballet background, I became the team leader. Every spare time, I devoted myself entirely to training. I rejected every date; everyone called me aloof. Watching other girls gravitate towards different boys, I could only smile bitterly.

I couldn't forget him, couldn't forget his rapid breathing, the tingling sensation, his warm hands. Whenever I thought of these things, I would rush to the training hall, put on my tight-fitting training clothes, and dance like a madman in front of the mirror.
Sometimes I would run into him at school, with different pretty girls around him. He was a notorious playboy at school, but he was also a good student and a successful businessman (he owned his own company). When we passed each other, I could feel his presence, like his hand enveloping my breast. We only nodded to each other.

A year passed in the blink of an eye, and he was graduating. I kept hearing news about him through various channels. I had indescribable feelings. Maybe if he left, I could feel better. I made a wish in my heart.

The school was going to hold a graduation ceremony for them, and the dance team was going to put on a performance—something extremely modern, choreographed by someone from some random place. Anyway, that awful choreographer made a complete mess of things for us. On the day of the dance, he sat in the front row (as a representative of outstanding students). I wore a flesh-colored dance costume, stretching and swaying wildly in front of him, as if there was no music, no lights, only his bright eyes in the darkness, like that night. We stared at each other, biting each other, and I knew that tonight would be another sleepless night.

The dance received unprecedented applause, which startled me, and I hurriedly retreated backstage. The choreographer said my performance tonight was the best, and he wanted to treat me to dinner alone, which I politely declined with a smile. I put on my coat and slowly walked towards the dance studio. Looking at my high breasts and long legs in front of the large mirrors, seemingly naked in my flesh-colored dance costume, I suddenly felt a surge of fear. I turned off all the lights, lay down quietly, and let the tears stream down my face. I had actually stared at him for a full ten minutes today, undisturbed.

The celebration in the distant auditorium was in full swing, and after the extreme physical and mental tension, I had actually fallen asleep in the hall. In my daze, a pair of warm hands brushed across my forehead, chest, abdomen, and legs, then returned to my chest, encircling it. I knew I was dreaming again. My tears flowed again.

He was calling me, still in a low voice. I didn't move, afraid of waking up. He gently pulled me into his arms, just like that night, when he kissed my tears, kissed the tip of my nose, and finally landed on my lips, very lightly. He remained like that for a long time, without moving. I told myself this wasn't a dream, it wasn't. I opened my eyes and saw his thick hair. I reached out and touched his prickly face, made of long beard.

He confirmed my wakefulness. His movements became so rough, his hands so strong. He kneaded my breasts with his entire palm, as if trying to crush them off. His tongue invaded my mouth, endlessly exploring downwards. He pressed me tightly against his chest like a doll, and I was almost scared. He didn't say a word, pulled me to my feet, put my clothes on me, and ran out like his life depended on it. There was a Mercedes at the school gate; he probably wanted to use it tonight. I already knew he was incredibly wealthy now.

Still, not a word. He was so vicious, and I didn't dare utter a single word. He threw me into the car and sped away from the school. Five minutes later, he stopped in front of a farmer's small courtyard. It was pitch black inside. He was like a madman, not allowing me to ask any questions. We went into the main house, closed the door, and I couldn't see what was inside. It was pitch black, but my dance costume looked exceptionally bright.

This time he was even more audacious, sweeping me up in his arms. I froze, unable to react. He threw me onto the bed, ignoring my resistance and my biting him hard as he kissed me. His hands roamed freely over my body through my smooth dance costume. His lips lingered on my ears and neck. He started biting and pinching me, like a volcano finally erupting after a long period of restraint.

I was too weak to struggle with him anymore, and instead began to cooperate with his frenzy. He finally found the zipper of my dance costume and pulled it off. I was completely naked in front of him. He pressed his entire body against me, and I was even more powerless to resist. My breathing became rapid, and I began to moan inexplicably. I started to writhe, and I began to feel wet. His hands lingered below, feeling my wetness, and began to rub my clitoris. My legs were spread apart, and he was between me. I felt a tingling, numb emptiness below.

He tightened his grip on my clitoris, and I began to moan loudly, involuntarily pinching my own nipples with great force to relieve the itch and emptiness below. He stopped. But I continued to writhe and rub myself. Now he held his weapon outside me, moving it up and down, and as I arched my back, he pressed down.

"Ahhh!" I cried out in pain, a heart-wrenching pain shooting up from below, my entire lower body completely filled by him. He didn't stop because of my cries; he began his manly conquest, thrusting in and out bravely, and with his thrusts, I released even more fluid.
After the pain, I felt an unprecedented fullness, my legs raised high and spread apart, unsure how to respond to him, his sweat pouring down.

Suddenly he flipped me over and thrust into me again. My heart pounded with each impact. His hands gripped my breast, squeezing it, while the other kneaded my clitoris. I was completely out of control; I felt my vagina contracting, secreting, and gurgling. It felt like that was the only thing in my body, and all my sensations came from it. Finally

, I felt his penis vibrate even more powerfully, and a stream of hot fluid shot into my vagina like a bullet.

We collapsed together, him still pressing down on me, his heavy breathing in my ear. His penis slid weakly out of me, but I could still feel the wet heat below. However, we were both too exhausted to move. We remained like that for a long time, until the sweat dried completely and our breathing became even. Then, he weakly rolled over and lay down beside me.

He hadn't taken off his shirt yet. I turned to look at him, and even in the darkness, I could see his bright eyes. One of his hands began to gather my disheveled hair, brushing past my ear and shoulder, stopping at my waist. He buried his head in my chest, and I noticed he was trembling, so I hugged him tightly.

The sunlight shone on my eyes, and I felt pain all over my body, unable to lift anything, especially down there, which felt like it was on fire, and my mouth was incredibly dry. I forced my eyes open and met his bright eyes, reminding me of everything that had happened last night. I could only smile at him.

He handed me a glass of water, smiling, and said, "You were so amazing the first time. No one but me could handle you." I sat up, drank the water, and got out of bed, only to realize I was still naked. I hurriedly grabbed the sheet to cover myself; there was a bright red stain on it. He smiled gently at me, then gently took the sheet in his hand, pulled away from my body, and stood in the sunlight, carefully looking me up and down. We had never looked at each other in daylight before, and I felt a little awkward.

"You're so beautiful!" he praised sincerely. "No, no, give me your clothes quickly." I was a little embarrassed. He pulled me close, his hands moving over my body again, stopping at my breasts, caressing them carefully, lifting them up with his hands. "So heavy, aren't you tired carrying her?" he said, almost lewdly. "How big is she?"
"I won't tell you!" "38B, I can tell." "It's 38C, you silly thing!"

His hands started to tighten, moving over my body, he pulled me into a strong embrace, his hands stopping at my hips, and he began to kiss me carefully, very gently, as if afraid of hurting me. His tongue gently teased my nipples, and I responded submissively. In his tenderness, our breathing quickened.

We retreated to the edge of the bed and lay down on our sides. I began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. Despite his slender appearance, he possessed such solid muscles. The touch of his hand, the real contact with a man's body, ignited a surge of excitement within me. He guided my hand towards his genitals, showing me how to grasp and manipulate them. "Last time, it was because your reaction was off when you touched it that I assumed it was your first time," he gently told me. I pinched him hard.

Our naked skin rubbed against each other, our four hands exploring every part of each other's bodies. He taught me how to touch, where to touch, and caressed every sensitive spot on my body.
I couldn't resist his allure any longer, and I began to sway my body. This time he was gentle. He placed me on his lap, showing me how to slowly sit on him. I felt a sense of fullness. His hands supported me on my breasts, and I recklessly sat down completely, spinning in place, feeling the pressure on my clitoris. Then I started to flow, I started to spasm, I started to move my hips up and down, I started to moan, I started to lose control, I started to thrust wildly, pressing down with all my strength, and he started to cooperate with me, to cooperate with my movements, and to touch my clitoris.

I don't know how long it was, but I heard his moan, I felt the liquid flowing down, I felt the water jet rushing up, I knew that we had met again at the peak.

"You're great!" he praised me. And how could he not be!

I was really tired, we lay there, and I started to listen to him ramble on about how he felt when he saw me this year, how much he regretted it, how he hurt me that day, how many times he had secretly watched me dance wildly outside the dance hall.
He said he dared not have any more expectations of me, until last night when I looked at him so confusedly.

I smiled happily.

Memories of First Love (2)

When he came back, I had already enjoyed one pleasure and was sitting on the sofa watching TV with nothing to do.
He smiled and turned on the light. It was already dark. He took several large ribbons and placed them by the door. I suddenly felt I had nothing to say to him; after all, we knew so little about each other. He sat gently beside me, looking at me wearing his clothes: "Not bad, wear them to school tomorrow!" I didn't answer. He pulled me up from the sofa.

"Are you hungry?" "I'm starving!" "Let's go out to eat." "I don't have any clothes, I'm not going."
He chuckled and picked up the large ribbons: "These are for you." I opened them—wow! All kinds of clothes: formal, casual, sundresses, black turtlenecks—all stylish, made of good materials, and in good colors. I'd never had anything like them before.

I only had a few clothes, and they were all quite outdated. What woman isn't vain, especially at that age?

"I don't want them." For some reason, I started to throw a tantrum: "You don't have to repay the favor, and I don't need you to take responsibility." All the resentment I'd held for the past year suddenly exploded.

He paused for a moment, then said good-naturedly, "Don't be stubborn. Look what I bought you!" He pulled a handful of lingerie from a pink strap—various colors, lace, semi-transparent, completely transparent
,

high-strap, half-cup, full-cup, with support, without straps…

"With a figure like yours, it's a shame you don't wear these."

"You buy these things at a mall?" My mouth formed an "O."

"No, I have a friend who sells these, but these aren't his knock-offs. I asked him to get me genuine designer brands. He says good lingerie is a woman's second body." "

Looks like your girlfriends often get lingerie from him," I said sullenly.

"No!" he said, somewhat dissatisfied. "Come and try it."

I stood there without moving, and he suddenly snapped, "Damn it! Who do you think you are? What makes you so temperamental! This is the first time I've ever encountered someone like this." He unleashed a torrent of profanities: "I must have been blind to want to treat you well and soothe your heart." He calmed down considerably and began to reason with me.

I remained unmoved, my expression one of absolute defiance.

"I don't care," he said, pushing open the door and leaving. I cried, heartbroken. Actually, I wanted to hear him say he loved me, that he wanted me, that he wanted me forever. After crying, he still hadn't returned. I didn't know if he'd gone out or was in another room. I washed my face, put my hair up, and thought about it. There was nothing to hold me back. We'd never truly understood each other; it was just youthful impulsiveness. We couldn't have a future.

From the clothes he'd bought, I picked out what I thought was the cheapest—a dark blue A-line dress with thin straps. To match, I chose a blue lace bra and a pair of black flat shoes. I packed my dance clothes and shoes. Before leaving, I wore a thin gray jacket over my skirt.

I walked out of his courtyard, and it seemed like a long time before I crossed the vegetable garden and reached the school gate. Suddenly, he appeared behind me like a ghost and whispered, "Don't walk alone at night, don't be alone in the dance studio, and don't go home with men." I didn't turn around to look at him and continued walking into the school and into the dormitory.

My roommates were shocked to see me, saying they thought I had disappeared and were going to call the police! I smiled at them. They complimented my clothes, noticed the bruises on my neck, and joked about me. I smiled back at them. They stopped laughing and dispersed.

That night, I had a dream. I dreamt of his naked body, and I dreamt of my naked body, of us tearing at each other, possessing each other. Dawn broke, and two wet patches remained on the bed, one on the pillow and one underneath.
Life returned to normal afterward. With him away from campus, I felt relaxed. I left the dance team and started dealing with the heavy workload of my sophomore year, while also looking for part-time jobs off-campus to earn some money. I started meeting all sorts of boys, but I never felt anything. Besides going out and having fun, there was nothing else to do.
I kissed them, and they kissed me. After the first kiss, we always became close friends, but nothing more.

My off-campus work mainly consisted of secretarial work at large companies. Because I was good with computers, spoke good English, was diligent, and kept my mouth shut, my boss appreciated me. He allowed me to take some things back to school to work on and provided me with a personal computer. We handled company business via fax. During holidays, I worked for him every day. When school started, I reported twice a month to collect my work and salary; we had a good working relationship.

One day, he suddenly faxed me, asking me to come to the company that evening to pick up some documents that needed immediate attention. Without thinking, I figured I needed to go into town to buy something anyway, so this would solve the problem at once.

I arrived at the company at 6:00. The boss was busy, so I sat at the service counter as usual, waiting for him to finish so he could give me instructions. "Okay, let's work together again next time." A year later, his voice was still so familiar. I didn't dare look up, hoping he would just walk past me without noticing a lowly secretary like me. He came out, and my heart pounded. He seemed to pause at the service counter for a moment, and my scalp tingled.

The boss came out and politely saw him off. He saw me and invited me in. This time, all the blinds in his office were drawn. "Maybe it's because we were discussing trade secrets!" I thought to myself.
The boss casually closed the door, leaving only us in the room. The boss was probably around 50 years old. He must have been a handsome man in his youth, but unfortunately, he'd gained some weight in middle age, though he still possessed a certain charm. I've always considered him like a father.
I waited for him to get me the documents. He called me to his desk, saying he needed to explain the work to me; usually, his secretary would do it. He had me stand beside him. It was a cold winter outside, but the room was quite warm due to the air conditioning. I hadn't expected to stay here so long, and wearing a coat, I started sweating profusely. The boss glanced at me: "Take off your coat; I'm going to talk for a long time." People from the company began to leave. I took off my coat and stood beside him.

That day, I was wearing a light yellow cashmere sweater, white jeans, and light yellow soft leather shoes. He stared at me, momentarily stunned, then continued explaining the documents. Good heavens! These were documents about doing business with him; he was now a rising star in business, and his photo was prominently displayed on the cover. The boss wanted to do business with him, but this was the first time he wanted to know his background. He knew we went to the same university, which was why he entrusted me with such an important matter. I instinctively moved closer to the boss, leaning down, wanting to see him more clearly.

I was absorbed in the bright eyes in his photo, speechless. Strangely, the boss was also silent, seemingly not looking at the documents. Suddenly, I felt a pair of warm, large hands stroking my back, from top to bottom, like his hands when we first met. I didn't move, continuing to gaze at those eyes, as if they were alive before me.

The hands moved more freely, on my chest, my hips, my groin. I closed my eyes, as if these were his hands, his bright eyes right before me, and someone was embracing me tightly from the front. I couldn't tell who it was: him, or the boss.

My lips were skillfully parted, and a smooth tongue pressed against my mouth, entwining with mine. A pair of warm, large hands began to caress my entire body. Involuntarily, I clung to their neck, returning their kiss with abandon.

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed—the building's central control had switched off. I began to writhe, to rise and fall back and forth. My sweater was already at my feet, my shoes were nowhere to be found, and my pants were pulled down to my ankles. I stood there almost naked. I enjoyed it. Since leaving him, I had always recalled my orgasms, but I could no longer feel anything; they still called me cold.

I began to feel changes below. Finally, they gently removed my last piece of clothing. Caught off guard, I was pushed down onto the executive desk. Warm hands pressed against my private parts and began to move. A long finger slid into my vagina, and I couldn't help but cry out, "Ah~," writhing in rhythm with the finger's teasing. I could feel my chest heating up, my heart racing, and my lower body throbbing, flowing with fluid awaiting conquest.
He climbed on top of me, between my open legs, and thrust inside. He stood erect in the slippery tube, moving back and forth, panting. He squeezed and kneaded my breasts, and I arched my back in response. On the executive desk, in front of his photograph, I writhed, seeing his bright eyes.

Finally, he released, placing his hand on my flat stomach. He panted, but I was surprisingly calm, feeling neither unease nor pleasure from the discharge; I was simply physically satisfied. I pushed the boss away, found some tissues to dry myself, found some clothes to put on, and sat to the side watching him. He stood up shyly, without saying a word, dressed, tied his tie, and tidied his hair—once again, my loving father.

We didn't say another word about what had just happened; he wanted to say something, but I steered the conversation away. I told my boss, "I don't know the person in the photo. He was almost graduating when I was in school, and he seemed to have excellent grades. I can't help you with what you're doing, so you can deduct my salary."

After that, I rarely saw my boss at the company anymore. But regardless of whether I had work or not, no one wanted to fire this temporary worker, and my salary kept increasing. ...

Before

I knew it, I was a senior in college, and everyone was busy looking for jobs, using their own cunning and schemes.
My boss sent me a fax, saying he could introduce me to a good job—high position, good salary, and good prospects.
I hadn't seen my boss for a long time, and I hadn't gone to collect my salary. I hadn't done anything for him, but I really couldn't bear to return the computer.

Anyway, I didn't have a job, and it was already April. I still didn't know what to do, and I should return the computer anyway, so I made an appointment with my boss. Ever since I wore the blue clothes I picked out from him, I've had a particular fondness for blue, especially in early spring. I love wearing a blue dress. I'm practically a Smurf.
For the job interview, I styled my hair in a neat updo to look more mature. Actually, my classmates say I always wear the same updo, which only adds to my sex appeal. I wore a dark blue, thin wool long-sleeved A-line dress. I've become increasingly thin; my face is almost entirely visible through my eyes, and my complexion is translucent white. My roommate said I'm practically an immortal, able to go without food, drink, or boyfriends. The dress was practically dangling off me, and even my once-proud breasts have shrunk considerably; I can only wear a 38B now. To look healthier, I applied some lipstick and face powder.

I arranged to meet the boss in the office building lobby; I didn't want to go to his office again. Seeing him, I marveled at the cruelty of time. In less than two years, his hair had thinned considerably, and his back was starting to hunch. It was hard to imagine him being so energetic back then. "

Let's go to that company to talk," I said, "I also need to speak with their boss." Perhaps the boss still felt guilty towards me, because he insisted on accompanying me. I couldn't refuse, so I let him. On the way, he kept introducing the company to me, the position he wanted to recommend me for, and the salary. The boss said no problem; the two companies had been doing business together for almost three years, with mutual trust and a pleasant working relationship. I listened silently.

When we arrived, the company boss seemed quite confident, only saying he'd discuss business with my boss first, and that his personal secretary would receive and assess me. The interview was quickly completed, and I believed my performance was quite good. The secretary took my resume and sent it inside. After hearing the boss's introduction, I really wanted to work for this company. Halfway through, my boss came out and told me he had to leave first; the boss of this company was very interested in me and wanted to interview me personally, so he couldn't accompany me.

The secretary led me into the boss's office and tactfully closed the door. The boss faced the window, looking outside. He didn't say anything, so I stood in the middle of the room, quietly waiting for him to turn around. The room was silent. I couldn't help but cough softly, trying to get his attention. My legs started to tremble, as if I realized something was about to happen. These past few days, I've barely eaten anything while searching for a job. Rushing from school to the city, then here, and then this interview, I'm starting to feel dizzy. My health is really deteriorating.

There was no sound, no response. The person sitting there seemed to be asleep, or perhaps deep in thought. I had to pull myself together: "Excuse me, do you have any questions for me? Your time is very valuable, and I hope to answer your questions quickly and to your satisfaction," I said softly.

There was no reply, so I started reciting my resume. I was beginning to get impatient; I've always had a bad temper. I kept reminding myself to be patient; I was asking someone to arrange a job for me.

Suddenly, his voice rang out: "How many boyfriends did you have in college?" The large executive chair spun around, and I saw his bright eyes. I felt like I was in another world. "You!!" I exclaimed, and then everything went dark, a deep, dark darkness, like when we first met, like the dance hall, like his small courtyard house. Then everything lit up, and I felt like I was rising to the clouds. I felt weightless, floating in a world of seven colors.

Then, I heard someone calling my name in the distance, saying, "Don't walk alone at night, don't... don't..." The voice grew closer; several people were calling my name, it was chaotic! I was back, back in a world of weight, everything was so heavy, I couldn't move. Someone pinched my philtrum, "Ah~" I cried out, forcing my eyes open. I saw the secretary's face, and several other unfamiliar people. I lay in a warm embrace, I knew it was his chest.

"You can all leave!" he said, "I'll take care of this young lady." The others cast strange glances and left.

He slowly picked me up, watching my tears fall. He gently placed me on his sofa, he softly wiped away my tears. He was about to stand up when I quickly grabbed his hand, it was still his hand, still warm, and my tears flowed freely. He let me cry, without making a sound.

Holding his hand, I inexplicably felt my body temperature rise, my breasts began to swell, and I started to feel sensations on the inside of my thighs. My lips began to kiss his palm, starting from his fingertips. I guided his hand to rest on my chest, leading it downwards. He began to caress me forcefully, every inch of me, and I could still feel the heat of his hands through my clothes.

The air began to heat up, my breathing became rapid, and his hands caressed my body even more quickly. My skirt had been lifted to my waist, and his hands were now truly touching my skin. I felt his trembling, and finally, he kissed me, as if using all the strength in his body. He pulled me tightly into his arms, and we tumbled onto his thick carpet. I began to unbutton his shirt, loosen his tie, and explore his genitals, using the methods he had taught me.

There was no prelude, no fancy moves, no sound, only heavy breathing. He entered my forest, head held high. I sank into the abyss again, felt the violent impact again, was drenched in sweat again, and my fluids flowed freely again. I felt his magnificence, his powerful thrusts, his thirst. He was like a conqueror, showering all his energy upon me.

Finally, it all stopped, leaving only viscous fluid. He whispered in my ear, "Stay by my side forever, don't leave me. I want to take responsibility for you." I melted into his voice.
We lay there for a long time. Finally, he stood up, pulled me up, and placed his hands on my waist. "How did you get so thin? Your health is so poor?" I looked at him, speechless. He buried his face in my shoulder. "I'm no longer young. I will cherish you. I will no longer have my individuality in front of you."

What more could I ask for?! The love of my life was right in front of me. I lifted his head and saw his moist, bright eyes. I smiled at him.

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Memories of first love

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