Beijing snow

Just last month, Beijing was blanketed in snow twice. I remember being quite excited those days, gazing at the white expanse, and even excitedly meeting up with some friends for hot pot and drinks.
After the snow, it got bitterly cold, and since I didn't have much work to do, I feigned illness and stayed home to hibernate. That day, with nothing to do, I thought of her and suddenly realized it had been a long time since we'd been in touch, which made me feel a little uneasy. Actually, I rarely call her first, because, for well-known reasons, I can't be sure if she'll be available to answer. Usually, she calls me, and we arrange a time, either at a restaurant or a hotel.
She used to contact me very frequently; during those days when her husband was out of the country, she would contact me almost every two days. Later, the intervals gradually lengthened because her husband had settled down at a company in China, leaving her with less time, but she would still contact me at least once a week, exchanging greetings even if we didn't meet in person. This habit has continued to this day.
But that day I felt uneasy because I hadn't heard from her for almost half a month, which was strange. Logically speaking, given our current relationship or based on her understanding of me, even if she was tired of this clandestine contact, she would find a reason to explain, or perhaps she wouldn't need a reason at all; she could simply tell me, "Let's break up," and I would let go easily. She wouldn't just suddenly turn away; that's not her style.
So, I mustered my courage and dialed her number.
It rang several times the first time, but no one answered. After a while, I called again, still no answer.
I thought she was probably busy. Although I was a little discouraged, at least her phone was on, so it should be alright. I felt a little relieved and decided to call again tomorrow, or maybe she would see it and call back.
Just then, the phone rang, and looking at the caller ID, it was her.
I happily answered the phone, even playfully saying "hello!" Just as I was about to call out "baby," the voice on the other end sent a chill down my spine.
It was a strange man speaking broken Chinese in a deep voice.
My immediate thought was, "Oh no, has she been caught?" I guessed it must be her British husband. Sure
enough, just as my mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse, he introduced himself, saying he was her husband, and asked, "Are you XX's friend?"
I wanted to say it was a wrong number, but I blurted out that I had. Instinctively, I wanted to understand the situation. If he had really found out, I felt I shouldn't back down; at least, I couldn't let her bear it all alone.
But what he said next shocked me even more, plunging me into despair.
He said, "She's gone." I naively asked, "Where did she go?"
He said, "She went to heaven."
My first thought was that he was joking; I thought to myself, foreigners are really humorous, joking even when we're not that close. I remember jokingly saying that even in heaven, she should call her friends.
He seemed to sense my teasing and repeated himself, very seriously, "She's gone! She's passed away!"
I finally reacted, mouth agape for a long time. After a long while, I asked, "Really?"
He said, "Really! She was in a car accident a few days ago. It snowed heavily that day, and her car overturned into a ditch in the suburbs."
I still couldn't believe it. How could a living person just be gone like that? I trembled as I pressed him for details, and he carefully explained the situation.
He said her sister came to Beijing, and they went out together. They weren't supposed to come back that day because of the snow, but they probably thought driving in the snow was romantic, so they set off without hesitation. As a result, due to slippery roads and poor visibility, the accident happened, and all four people in the car perished.
I'd seen her sister's picture; a pretty, sunny girl. It's such a pity.
After hanging up the phone, I sat there motionless for a long time, completely blank. I just felt cold, a bone-chilling cold.
Several days passed, and I was still in a daze. I still couldn't believe it—how could she be gone like that!
Even now, almost ten days after I learned the devastating news, I still can't believe it. I think, maybe it's a cruel joke? I really hope it's a joke, even if it hurts me deeply.
My acquaintance with her was rather old-fashioned; it happened online.
For a while, I ran a clothing store, selling export-quality garments. Because of my work, I met some friends who worked in export factories. Seeing that they had a lot of leftover stock—the styles and workmanship were quite good—I started selling them. They sold quite well, and I made some money. That's when I met her.
Back then, I often went to eBay for wholesale, and someone introduced me to her. When she added me on MSN, I initially thought she was one of those wholesalers, but after a few chats, she said she hoped I could help her.
She said she had just returned to China and wanted to open a shop in Beijing selling imported home goods. She even showed me some pictures of trendy, innovative designs. She asked if it would be feasible to sell these in Beijing. Since I didn't know much about it, I didn't dare to give a definitive answer, but intuitively, I thought it would be a good idea because I really liked it. So, I irresponsibly offered her a few words of encouragement.
A few days later, she contacted me again. She said she had decided to open a shop, but because she wasn't familiar with Beijing, she asked if I could give her some advice. I said, "Of course."
So, we arranged a time, and she said she hoped I could accompany her to look around and see where would be suitable.
At the time, I was quite surprised: "This person is so simple-minded, offering help without even knowing me, and even wanting to meet. Isn't she afraid I'm a bad guy?" Nevertheless, I agreed.
The day we met was sunny and breezy, and we met in a bustling downtown area.
When her call came in, I was still looking around, my eyes scanning every girl who walked past me, hoping the prettiest one would suddenly jump up and say, "I'm so-and-so," like a dramatic scene. At the time, I just assumed she was young and innocent, because her voice was very soft, sounding like a young girl. But
after hanging up, seeing her standing right behind me, I was honestly a little disappointed. She
didn't look very old, but definitely not a girl. In my experience, she was probably over thirty. Her attire wasn't fashionable, just a very casual, conservative outfit, but her calm and serene expression gave her a unique air, the kind of person who had lived abroad.
She wasn't particularly beautiful, just average, but her overall demeanor set her apart from the crowd. Also, this woman had very fair and delicate skin, and a small frame; I was certain she wasn't from the north. Oh, and she looked a lot like Zheng Peifang, the frequent guest on the talk show "Qiang Qiang San Ren Xing," though her eyes were a little smaller.
Actually, compared to women her age, she's above average, and very well-maintained. The reason I was somewhat disappointed, I guess, is because I had preconceived notions. I'd always thought of her as a young girl, and suddenly seeing a mature woman like her was quite a contrast.
That day, I drove her to many places, and she treated me to lunch. We chatted and became friends.
Sure enough, she'd grown up in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang area, and after graduating from university, she went abroad to study, where she met her current husband, a British man more than ten years her senior. Because of her husband's work, they both moved to Beijing. Perhaps not wanting a boring life, she suddenly had the idea to open a shop, not to make money, just to pass the time.
That day, I jokingly said that there are many ways to pass the time, so why did she think of opening a shop? In Beijing, the cost of passing the time like that would be very high. She didn't seem to care, saying casually that she didn't want to be supported by someone else
while doing nothing. Of course, since we were friends, I still advised her not to rush into opening a shop, suggesting that she start an online shop first, which would have little cost and give her something to do—a win-win situation.
She thought I made sense and agreed to think about it more.
After we broke up that day, we didn't contact each other for a long time. Gradually, I almost forgot about her. Sometimes I would think of her, but I only regarded her as a passerby, someone who came and went quickly without causing any ripples.
About half a year later, one day, I suddenly received a call from her.
Her voice was still so tender and lazy. I felt it was familiar, but I couldn't remember who it was. She even asked me to guess. I was very busy that day and guessed several times without getting them right, so I became a little impatient. She chuckled on the other end, and with that laugh, I suddenly remembered her. Her laughter was peculiar; it was just a couple of "hehe" sounds, then suddenly stopped, leaving you feeling like something was always missing, neither going up nor down. To put it nicely, it was like leaving something unsatisfied; to put it bluntly, it was quite frustrating. It's hard to describe.
Anyway, that day I finally said her name, and she was very pleased, saying I hadn't forgotten her. Then, we chatted briefly, and as we were about to hang up, she said, "Let's go out for a bit."
I said, "Okay."
This time, we met at Houhai, a quiet bar.
She said she loved the atmosphere of Houhai, especially on winter afternoons, when the warm sunlight streamed through the bright glass windows, illuminating the thick, soft sofas, and the surrounding quiet, the ancient, weathered buildings exuding a serene harmony that made you feel inexplicably drawn in. As she said this, she looked completely absorbed, quite sophisticated.
I'm not so highbrow; the only thing I thought was better than Sanlitun was that it wasn't as chaotic, allowing for a more relaxed and meaningful conversation.
I was a little reserved when I first met her; the slight acquaintance we'd built up after our initial chance encounter had been completely worn away by the past six months. She was alright, still as warm and composed as an old friend I hadn't seen in years. I was infected by her enthusiasm and gradually relaxed as well.
We chatted happily that day, each eagerly sharing our stories, from our student days to our married lives. She said she no longer wanted to open a shop; it was a rash decision she'd made back then, which now seemed quite naive. She also said she was grateful for that impulsive idea, at least it led her to meet me. She said I wasn't the handsome type, but being around me made her feel comfortable.
I don't know if she was just being polite, but I genuinely appreciated it.
That day, her appearance and demeanor had a more sophisticated charm, no longer the casual, unpretentious kind; a touch of refinement gave her an added allure. Sometimes, a small gesture or expression in her movements would make my heart flutter. At that time, I wasn't thinking about developing an inappropriate relationship with her, but having such a woman as a friend was truly a pleasure.
The only discomfort was that she made me feel subtly inferior. This woman possessed an abundance of knowledge, seemingly knowing everything, and her conversation was punctuated every now and then with terms that struck me as profound and enigmatic. Whenever this happened, I would feign listening intently, nodding appropriately as if I understood.
This time, we talked until very late, and I still didn't take her home when we parted. She had driven there in a bright red Polo, which she said she had just bought. It seemed she was going to be settling down in Beijing.
She didn't have many friends in Beijing, and in the days that followed, she would call me whenever she was bored, chatting casually for a few minutes or inviting me to dinner. Once, she specifically told me not to drive, saying she wanted to drink. That day I learned about her drinking capacity; someone like me could easily outdrink three of me. It seems women with foreign liquor are indeed different; their drinking is at an international level.
This continued for another six months, our relationship like that of gentlemen, a light and casual exchange. Until that spring of 2005.
That spring, like many others, passed in a flash, with sweltering heat almost immediately following. She had a very leisurely time then; her husband was constantly flying domestically and internationally, rarely spending more than a few days a month in Beijing. She often complained that her home was like a hotel, the advantage being that it was free and there were free girls provided. I laughed and said I dreamed of such a thing, even if the hotel charged a little, it wouldn't matter, the main thing was the free girls. Looking at her fair face, I said, "Someone like you, I'd even pay you to have
you." She glared at me, her lips twitching, and muttered a curse under her breath. I chuckled again, utterly shameless.
That day we drank a little more, not much because I had to drive.
As I was leaving, I said some polite goodbyes as usual, then went to find my car. Before I even took a step, she said angrily behind me, "How can you have no manners at all?" I turned around in surprise and asked her what was wrong. She said, "It's so late, why didn't you offer a ride to a single lady?" I then realized she hadn't driven and quickly apologized.
That was my first time visiting her home, an apartment in eastern Beijing catering to foreigners. The apartment was large and spacious, the furniture simple and practical. The only things that showed the hostess's tastes were the small, spotless decorations scattered throughout.
The sofa was large and comfortable; after sitting for a while, I felt drowsy. I forced my eyes open, ready to leave. To be honest, being alone with a man and a woman in the same room made me a little uncomfortable, especially in her unfamiliar home, which made me feel even more oppressed and uneasy.
But she wouldn't let me leave, saying the house was eerily quiet and I should stay a little longer to add some life. I jokingly said I really didn't want to leave, but if someone cornered me in the house, I'd have no way to explain myself. She gave me another disapproving look with her small eyes and said, "You wish! She said even a dog has never been here. Who are you going to argue with?"
Hearing this, I felt a little relieved and leaned back comfortably on the sofa.
She then took out a bottle of wine from some unknown country and handed it to me in a huge glass. I didn't dare drink it, fearing I'd be arrested by the police along the way, so I declined briefly and watched her elegantly sip it. A very famous TV series was playing, and we watched it with great interest, chatting and commenting from time to time, even arguing about the looks of a certain female or male lead.
I don't know when she changed into a skirt, the kind that's loose and baggy, and as she drank, she casually put her bare legs up on the coffee table in front of her, her two small, white feet crossed, swinging them from side to side with great interest, making my heart flutter.
Gradually, my gaze began to linger on those feet for a long time; they were fair and delicate, without a trace of age, and her nails were neatly trimmed, showing that she was a woman who paid great attention to details. I glanced at her several times, half-looking, and finally couldn't resist saying, "Your feet are very pretty."
She gave me a surprised look, then looked at her own feet, playfully twitching her toes. She said, "They're alright. I used to take care of them in the summer, but now that I'm older, I'm too lazy." She then moved her feet to her knees, flipped her toes to look at them, and pointed to them, saying, "Look, there's dead skin."
The dead skin she was referring to was actually quite small; I had to look closer to see it clearly. But I still agreed, saying that summer was coming and I should get it fixed so it would look better in sandals. After saying that, I inexplicably touched it. It was very smooth and slippery.
This conversation suddenly made our relationship ambiguous; we started chatting about beauty and clothing like two best friends. Fortunately, I enjoy watching Taiwanese variety shows, like "Queen of Beauty," and the information I gained from them really helped me a lot, making her look at me in a new light. She laughed and said she didn't expect me to know these things. I was smug and gave myself the honorary title of "Friend of Women".
She chuckled uncontrollably, saying I actually had potential in that area. Laughing so hard she almost fell over, and before I knew it, she was leaning against me. I didn't hesitate and pulled her close.
What followed was like many relationships: initially awkward, but quickly relaxing, we ended up kissing and sprawling on the sofa. I slipped my hand under her skirt, tracing her smooth thighs, and then pulled down her panties. When my hand was completely between her legs, she stiffened for a moment, but quickly relaxed, even slightly parting her legs to make it easier for me. We were like a pair of adulterers who had been hooking up for a long time, everything flowing smoothly until I shakily ejaculated onto her body. I
almost couldn't hold back, but thankfully she reacted quickly, murmuring a warning not to ejaculate inside, not to ejaculate inside. I pulled out at the last second, but still managed to soil her belly. I felt very embarrassed and quickly grabbed several tissues to wipe it off. She remained motionless, a smile playing on her lips as she watched me carefully wipe herself. She then lifted her hips, gesturing for me to clean her lower area as well.
Only then did I have a chance to closely observe her private parts. Her pubic hair wasn't very thick, spreading out in curls like a blanket towards her thighs, gradually thinning out. Her labia, like the full, rounded hem of a clam's skirt, parted from the cleft, like butterfly wings evenly spread on either side, trembling slightly, almost dripping with moisture. The color wasn't deep, a pale brown that deepened to a blush of pink, adding a touch of shyness and tenderness.
She was completely open and uninhibited, without a trace of coyness or affectation, which made me feel at ease. I hate some women who put on airs, pretending to be virgins even after having done everything, acting all affected and irritating. Of course, if she were truly a virgin, it would be understandable, but the problem is that she's already had countless partners and still acts like a virgin; that just disgusts me. Everyone knows what kind of people they are, so there's no need to pretend to be a big shot.
This woman wasn't like that; she was just like any other person, with an inexplicable nonchalance that made me feel an immediate sense of ease, as if we could be equals. After all, we're both adults; this kind of thing is consensual,
there's no need to burden the other person. However, there was still a burden. I think I went too fast that day; I finished before I even really got going. At first, I was a little impotent, probably psychologically, feeling unsure in an unfamiliar environment. Later, seeing her enjoying herself, I got aroused, but even then, it only took a few thrusts. I felt quite guilty. Besides, a woman used to foreign guns trying to use a Hanyang rifle—it's hard to even pull the bolt, and it might even misfire—it really made us Chinese men sweat.
In short, I was incredibly anxious afterward, wishing I could disappear into a crack in the ground.
She, on the other hand, was alright; perhaps she gave me some face? While I was mortified, she remained nonchalant, nestled lazily in my arms, occasionally rubbing her large, full breasts against my chest, her eyes full of affection. As if sensing my unease, she asked what was wrong. I stammered for a long time before finally mustering the courage to say "I'm sorry."
When she realized what I meant, she chuckled. She pinched my nose and said softly, "Silly you."
After that, I felt uneasy for days. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became at my own incompetence, having needlessly embarrassed myself. I considered calling her several times, but hesitated, afraid to risk further humiliation. Actually, looking back, I realized it was unnecessary. Men often take these things too seriously, while for women, they are often insignificant.
When a woman thinks you're good, it's often not just about your performance in bed; some women even overlook your virility in bed and value other aspects, whether what you offer is worthy of her complete devotion. Women are emotional, while men often think with their lower bodies.
She contacted me first, her voice still languid. Even her accusations were alluring.
"What's wrong with you? You disappeared after you got me?" she asked bluntly, leaving me speechless. But she was quick to change her tune, immediately inviting me to dinner with a giggle.
Her husband wasn't home yet, and after dinner, she naturally got up and got into my car, without even asking where we were going. I hesitated, slowly starting the car and shifting gears, driving a kilometer before finally asking,
"To my place?" She gaped, as if I knew the answer already.
I really didn't dare go to her house again; it gave me a real psychological barrier. Finally, she asked where I wanted to go.
"A hotel?"
"Okay, whatever you say."
The first hotel I went to was a Home Inn, and I got used to it and went there often. For some reason, she really liked Home Inns; even with better options, she would still go to great lengths to find one. The day before yesterday, I was out running errands and passed by a Home Inn. Suddenly, my heart ached, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, blurring my vision.
This woman, whom I was with for the second time, surprised me.
As soon as I entered, she cornered me against the wall and kissed me passionately and desperately. Her rough actions gave me a disorienting, role-reversal feeling. It was as if I were the vulnerable woman, and she was the blatant pervert.
The last time wasn't like this; we finished our business politely, like familiar people holding hands, calm and unhurried. But this time, the change was too rapid, leaving me bewildered.
We kissed passionately for a long time, finally catching our breath. She wiped her mouth, seemingly satisfied, while I remained leaning against the wall, still shaken. Watching her turn on the TV, slowly undress, and wander around in just a light-colored set of underwear as if nothing had happened, I finally asked, "Did you take aphrodisiacs?"
She glanced at me, got up, and walked towards the bathroom. As she passed me, she muttered under her breath, "Did I? So what?"
After a while, she came out wrapped in a towel. Her hair was still wet, and she haphazardly rubbed it with the towel, tilting her head. Seeing me still sitting there, she asked in surprise, "Aren't you going to shower?" I got up, took off my clothes, and went into the bathroom.
When I came out, she was already lying on the bed, a thin blanket draped over her, revealing her rounded, white shoulders, half-closing her eyes as she watched TV. Seeing me come out, she smiled sweetly and beckoned me to get in bed. She acted like an old married couple, without a trace of affectation. To be honest, for a moment, I almost wondered if she was an expert in this? However, I wasn't against it; if it's just for fun, isn't it better to have no responsibility?
That day, my performance was quite commendable. After one round, we both lay there, drenched in sweat and panting. After a while, she snuggled close to me, nestled in my arms, and perhaps out of boredom, breathed into my ear repeatedly. I turned my head and asked her what she was doing. She didn't answer, but continued to blow, and I felt a tickle and reached up to scratch my ear. Suddenly, she climbed up to me and whispered in my ear, "Not bad today."
Receiving the praise greatly satisfied my vanity. I hugged her tightly and told her that things would be good in the future. She chuckled and asked me, "And now?" I said, "What are you doing?" "Do me," she said. Then, she slowly leaned down and opened her little mouth to take my thing in.
The second time was even more exhilarating. Perhaps because we had just finished once, I wasn't in such a hurry anymore, and I could seriously and freely treat this as a precious experience to savor. She seemed to enjoy the process, moaning loudly in her sensitive areas as encouragement. I carefully recalled my years of experience and knowledge, applying it earnestly to her. She almost went crazy, finally begging me to penetrate her, shouting loudly, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" That time, I actually lasted a long time without ejaculating.
Afterwards, we both lay in the bathtub, dozing off. In my hazy state, I heard her stroking my genitals and saying, "I never thought this would feel so good."
I looked at her in surprise and asked, "Are you unmarried?"
She lazily replied that they didn't do it often.
My curiosity was piqued, and I asked her, "What? I've heard foreigners are very capable." She said maybe, but her partner didn't seem very enthusiastic about it. I asked again, "Are foreigners' penises more comfortable to use than Chinese ones? Theirs are so big."
She said they were pretty much the same, used the same methods, and had the same effect inside. I didn't believe her. I said, "The people in porn all have erections." She said those were just picky picks, and it wasn't actually that exaggerated. She added that maybe some did, but she'd never seen any. She said her experience was limited, and the only foreigner she'd slept with was her husband. I didn't believe her, saying she didn't seem that simple.
This made her anxious. She jumped up from the water and asked, "Are you saying I'm a promiscuous woman?"
I was startled and quickly explained, "I'm not talking about that, I just think you should be very experienced, after all, you've been married for so many years."
Perhaps my gaze was sincere, because she stopped being angry, but still lay down a little resentful. She said that when she first married her British husband, they would have sex several times a week, but it gradually decreased, and now it's only a few times a year. I asked her, "Don't you want to?"
She said it didn't really matter; it was something she could do without. I laughed and teased her, saying that she didn't seem like someone who could do without. She pinched me shyly and pressed herself tightly against me, saying she liked being with me and felt comfortable. She also said she had come to terms with it; since she was already cheating, she might as well go all out. And
what happened next was exactly as she said; she thoroughly enjoyed herself. I also found it exciting.
At first, because we were new to each other, we were a little reserved, like many couples, we used foreplay and penetration gradually. Slowly, as the number of times increased, we completely dropped our pretenses. Initially, it was me who started using vulgar language, like "fuck you," "bitch," and "cock." At first, I thought she would be disgusted, since it seemed disrespectful.
I'd encountered women like that before; they were very unhappy when I said similar things, saying I looked down on them, that I treated them like playthings, and that's why I insulted them like that. I had to explain for a long time, but she still didn't understand. She even questioned me, "Do you say that to your wife too?" To be honest, I really don't dare say that to my wife; I don't know why, I just can't bring myself to say it. But I have no such reservations with other women, which is strange.
That day, I tentatively said a few things, mainly because I wasn't really in the mood and it took me a while to get to the point. I saw she was also tired and wanted to finish quickly, so I said a few things to spice things up.
Unexpectedly, she was so cooperative and reacted strongly, her moans getting louder and her body writhing more violently. Sometimes, if I paused for a moment, she would urge me on, asking me to curse her. I cursed her, calling her things like "slut," "whore," and "slut," and she seemed incredibly excited, responding enthusiastically and agreeing to whatever I asked. That day was great, and she said it was quite fun.
In the days that followed, we did this every time we had sex. She became increasingly vulgar in bed, saying whatever came to mind, things I sometimes found hard to say, but she said them fluently.
Later, she wanted to watch those kinds of movies again and asked if I had any.
I asked her if she had seen them before, and she said she had, that she and a classmate had secretly watched one at home when she was in school, and at the time she didn't think much of it, just that it was disgusting. Later, during a hometown gathering while I was studying abroad, the boys were all gathered around watching something, and the girls glanced at it with giggles, but didn't really remember it.
So I downloaded some from the internet and showed it to her on my laptop during our next date. At first, she didn't react much, and even commented on it with me. But later, as we were doing it, she asked me to play more, staring intently at the screen while yelling loudly, and I even tried to imitate the positions in the movies.
This woman was interesting. Many women like Western films, appreciating the beauty of handsome men and beautiful women, but she preferred Japanese films, especially the more perverse ones. She particularly liked those that dragged on for ages without penetration. She said she liked watching a woman go from sitting upright to being ravaged to hysterical ecstasy. After watching it, she demanded that I do the same to her, flipping her over and doing all sorts of positions on her.
Once, she even brought cucumbers and eggplants, and while giving me oral sex, she spread her legs and asked me to insert those things into her vagina. That time she leaked a lot, I don't know if it was urine or discharge, it soaked a large area of the sheets, and she was almost exhausted afterward. I was also exhausted, my wrists were aching, but seeing her screaming and yelling after I did it gave me a sense of accomplishment.
However, she didn't like SM. She said she really didn't understand those people, what pleasure could there be in hitting and whipping like that? I said everyone has their own preferences, some people are very enthusiastic about it. She said she couldn't accept it, she said she still liked me pinning her down on the bed and doing it to her like an animal.
She liked kneeling on the bed, her buttocks sticking out, so I could enter her from behind. She said that way the penetration was deeper, and she felt that this position also excited her. She said that every time she did that, she felt like she wasn't human, like an animal waiting to mate, a kind of humiliating stimulation. In addition, not being able to see my face like that allowed her to be more uninhibited, she wasn't embarrassed. Indeed, every time she did that, she would scream hoarsely, saying things that were already vulgar, without a trace of shame, only pleasure remained.
Once, I tried a position I saw in an adult video. I had her face me, arms around my neck, legs wrapped around my waist, and then I walked around the room while penetrating her. It didn't work; I was too exhausted and only felt breathless, without any pleasure. She said she couldn't do that position either, always worried I'd throw her to the ground. To be honest, she was a bit heavy.
She's the kind of woman who's easily satisfied; no matter my state, she can orgasm quickly. At first, I was puzzled, thinking she was just pretending to please me, but later I realized she genuinely did. I asked her curiously, and she said she didn't know why, she just came easily. She'd asked others, and someone told her it might be because her vagina was shallow.
I don't know if that's the reason either; I put my finger inside, and it was indeed shallow. However, this kind of woman can greatly satisfy a man's ego and boost his confidence; he never feels disappointed with her. I was like that; during that time, I felt like the best man in the world.
This kind of woman seems to be born for men.
She would often call me suddenly while I was at work, telling me she wanted to. She spoke breathlessly, her voice alluring, and it instantly aroused me. Luckily, she was very understanding and tacitly followed the rules of the game, never calling when I was unavailable. Otherwise, I probably would have been in serious trouble.
One time, I vividly remember being in a meeting when my phone vibrated. I saw it was her call and quickly hung up. The meeting didn't end until noon, and I nervously dialed back. She responded listlessly. Afraid she was angry, I quickly explained, and she said I wanted to make it up to her. I asked her how I could make it up to her. Going over now was definitely not an option; I could wait until the weekend. She said no, she couldn't wait, she wanted it now. I asked what to do then. She said, "Tell me, and I'll do it."
That was the first time I had sex with a woman this way, and I was a little flustered, not knowing how to start. She asked if anyone was in my office. I said no, and she said, "Then just say it." I asked her what she wanted to say. She said, "Whatever you want, just say whatever you want, just make her aroused." So, I clumsily began to narrate, trying my best to describe the process of an adulterous couple's affair in a vivid and detailed way. She listened intently, completely absorbed in the scene, quickly transitioning from soft panting to loud moans.
I was sure her fingers were very busy; I could even feel the rhythm of her fingers moving in her breath. So, I added a lot of embellishments, and finally, she started shouting wildly, yelling, "Fuck me! Fuck me faster!" and urging me to continue, to say dirty words, very dirty words. I racked my brains to think of the dirtiest words, and whenever I remembered one, I would say it to her. She responded loudly, cursing back and even throwing in a few words of English that I didn't understand.
Several times I noticed this habit of hers; in the heat of the moment, she would blurt out a few words of English, like "Oh my god..." or something similar, just like the foreign women in porn. I guess it was a habit, and it had become natural. I actually found it quite enjoyable; it added a touch of exoticism.
After that, we often played this game. When the mood struck, she would call to ask if I was free, and if I was, she would insist on doing it again. Later, I firmly stopped her because I felt too uncomfortable. Even though it was a private office, I couldn't very well pull out my penis and masturbate.
Most of the time, we went to hotels. Whoever had time would book a room and wait quietly for the other. After a while, we both got a little bored, so we discussed how to make it more exciting.
One time, I was thrusting from behind and saw my anus tightening and loosening in the crevice of my buttocks. I thought it was fun, so I put my finger on it and rubbed it. As I rubbed, my thumb went in, not much, just a little bit. I thought she would stop me, but after doing it for a while, she didn't show any signs of getting tired. On the contrary, she became more excited, so she pushed it in even deeper. She cried out loudly. I thought it would hurt and tried to pull out, but she grabbed my hand and put me back in there.
Afterwards, I asked her if it felt good there. She said it was okay, she found it quite exciting. I seized the opportunity and suggested we try anal sex. She was a little scared and asked if it was okay, worried about tearing. I said no, it's not just the two of us doing it, lots of people do it. She said, "Let's try it then."
After making this decision, she was very excited, like a child discovering a new toy, busily preparing. Preparing wasn't really anything special; neither of us had experience in this area. Our intuition told us we should at least use lubricant, so we intensified foreplay to increase vaginal lubrication, and then she let me apply it to her anus.
When I was about to penetrate, I was very careful, afraid of tearing her, so I even coated my glans with the lubricant before cautiously inserting it. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. Just a little bit in, and she screamed and collapsed onto the bed. It wasn't an excited scream, it was genuine pain.
Later, she still wouldn't give up and let me try again, but it still didn't work. She said it hurt too much, excruciating pain. Then, regretfully, she said, "Forget it, we're not suitable." Even now, I still feel resentful. Just a month before she left, we went on SIS and saw photos of anal sex. She muttered somewhat resentfully, "How do people do that?"
Speaking of SIS, I suddenly felt regretful. I had been planning to take some pictures. I worked on it for a long time, but perhaps because of the Edison Chen photo scandal, she absolutely refused. After much persuasion and my resolute assurances, she finally relented. But before we could even do it, this happened. I believe this will be a lifelong regret for me.
She liked me to give her oral sex. After showering, she would always be the first to jump onto the bed and lie there comfortably. When I got on, she would first position me properly and then start doing it. At first, she wasn't very good; her teeth would always bump into me, making me very uncomfortable. Later, she gradually got better and became more skilled, even imitating the movements in AVs, licking and sucking back and forth, which was extremely pleasurable for me.
When it was almost time, she would roll over, raising her legs high, waiting for me to continue. She couldn't stand it when I slid my tongue up and down her labia. Every time I did that, she would moan excitedly, and several times I had to cover her mouth in fright. Sometimes she would kneel on the bed on top of me, spreading her vulva out to my mouth with her hands, making me lick it. After a few licks, she couldn't take it anymore, becoming increasingly limp until she was practically sitting on my head, twisting back and forth and rubbing against my face, often leaving my head and face covered in slickness.
The worst part was that the occasional swirl of pubic hair would always make me sneeze a few times, which was really unpleasant. Later, I suggested shaving her pubic hair, and she agreed, using the hotel's razor to shave it clean and smooth. Coincidentally, her husband came back the day after she got home. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder, and the couple did it once, only to be caught. She hurriedly made up an excuse and managed to get away with it. That incident terrified her, and she vowed never to do anything that could leave evidence again, otherwise, she would never be able to explain herself.
She seemed to have erogenous zones all over her body. Whether it was her fingers, toes, or anus, she would cry out whenever I touched her. She said she really couldn't stand me doing that; the moment my tongue touched her, her whole body would go numb and she just wanted to scream out loud. She also liked to drink my semen. Many times, when she felt I was about to climax, she would let me come, opening her mouth wide so I could ejaculate into her mouth. Sometimes I missed, and I'd ejaculate all over her face and head, and she'd stick out her tongue to lick it. Even if she couldn't lick anything, she'd still put on a dreamy look, truly alluring.
We also tried with stockings. She'd wear high heels and black stockings, then perform a striptease for me completely naked. Often, she'd be dancing with great interest when I'd throw her onto the bed. To be honest, I wasn't really interested in her dancing. After all, time waits for no one; a woman in her thirties, her figure wasn't as slender anymore. Although she hadn't given birth, she had some extra fat around her waist, making her movements look somewhat comical.
Later, she stopped dancing and bought some random sexy lingerie online, often wearing it to show me. Everyone has different tastes; I was indifferent to this kind of thing. I never felt that those kinds of clothes, with their overtly provocative feel, could enhance my sexual interest, so I didn't show any enthusiasm. She was a little unhappy and asked if I disliked her figure. Of course, I didn't dare tell the truth and made up an excuse to appease her.
Sometimes we would do it on the floor, without taking off our clothes, just lifting our skirts or pulling our pants down halfway.
That time, she arrived early. When I came in, she wasn't waiting in bed as usual, but was fully dressed, half-lying there watching TV. I asked her if she had showered, and she said no. I assumed she was waiting for me, so I hurriedly started to take off my clothes.
But she said wait, then got up from the bed, pushed me against the wall, and started kissing me. I kissed her back, still fumbling to unbutton my clothes, when she grabbed my hand. "I'm not taking them off," she said. Then she turned her back, pulled down a pair of tight jeans to her thighs, and then pulled down her underwear, revealing her white, tender buttocks.
The whole movement was hurried, as if she was in a rush. Since that was the case, I went along with her, took out my penis, and inserted it. She screamed, bracing herself against the wall with one hand, arching her buttocks, and grabbing me with the other, placing it on her breast, indicating that I should rub it. She came very quickly that day; I remember that it seemed like only a short while before she went limp and collapsed.
We took a shower together and did it again in the bathroom, in the same position, but this time in front of the mirror. She stared at us in the mirror with dazed eyes, shouting, "Do it harder, do it harder, faster, faster!" Afterwards, I was puzzled and asked her what was wrong with her that day. She didn't say anything.
Later, she often did this, rushing around but looking impatient. Several times I thought she would really leave after she was done, but afterwards I found that she was perfectly fine. But every time she did this, she would get very excited, and her orgasm would come even faster.
Later, I finally couldn't help but ask her, "What's wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?" She said, "Nothing, I just wanted to do it like this." I said, "What?" She said, "It feels more like having an affair."
I was speechless. I said that no matter what we did, we were having an affair. She said it was different, this was more like it, rushing around and not even having time to calmly take off her clothes. Like a promiscuous woman who took advantage of her husband's unpreparedness and hurriedly ran out to let a stranger have her way with her.
"I don't know what, but it excites me a lot," she said.
Her reason made me both laugh and cry. It really echoed that song: "Don't try to guess a woman's thoughts, you'll never understand no matter how much you try."
One day, she suddenly asked me, "What do men do when they masturbate?" I asked her in return, "And what do you women do?"
Like this. She rolled over and lay down, spread her legs, put her hand on that place, and rubbed her fingers there. After a while, her body stiffened, and she started panting more and more heavily. I leaned over to watch, seeing her fingers rubbing the swollen, red mound above her vagina. I asked her, "Don't you need to put your fingers inside?" She panted and said no, this is fine. Then she asked me to help her.
I placed my hands on her breasts and gently kneaded them. She told me to be rougher and harder. So I was. She told me to pinch her nipples, so I pinched them and twisted them hard. Her breathing became more and more rapid, and she slowly cried out, then asked me to say something. I was about to say something swear, but then I remembered a little game I used to play with Sister Zhao from my old workplace, so I started talking about it.
I first asked her, "Who are you?" She hesitated noticeably and asked me back, "What do you think?"
I said, "I don't know you, I just followed you because you're pretty."
She was smart and immediately understood what I meant, panting, "You pervert, you touch me just because I'm pretty?"
I said, "Yes, not only do I touch you, I also want to fuck you."
She said, "Are you sure you can do it? Can you fuck me well?"
I said, "You'll find out if you try, my dick is big, I can pierce you all the way through."
She said, "You're lying, I don't want to, I'm a proper woman."
I said, "Proper? What do you mean, so much water?"
She said, "She's itchy."
I said, "Then I'll help you relieve the itch, okay?"
She said, "No, I have a husband."
I said, "It's okay, your husband won't know. Just once, try it, it'll definitely be better than with your husband."
She said, "Really? Then you'd better hurry, my husband will be back soon."
I said, "So what if he's back? Let him see his wife cheating on him."
At this point, she couldn't take it anymore and shouted loudly, "Yes, let him see, let him see, his wife is being fucked, his wife's pussy is being played with..." Then her body convulsed.
I don't understand what kind of psychology this is. Maybe women are born with a desire to cheat? When we first got together, I never dared to bring up her husband, afraid that it would make her feel guilty and affect our relationship. Later, she brought it up herself, and every time she did, she felt a little excited. After that, she often brought it up, especially when things got heated. She would often talk about her husband, like an aphrodisiac, making her feel confused and infatuated.
Marrying a woman like this is truly a man's misfortune.
Later, she encouraged me to go to her house.
I hesitated for a long time, still haunted by the thought. I'm always hesitant and cautious about things I'm unsure about, afraid of falling into someone's trap or being caught in bed with someone else by a sudden turn of events. Many movies and novels depict such scenarios, and they always send chills down my spine.
She sensed my hesitation and repeatedly emphasized that her husband wasn't in the country, even calling me to show me his number. After going back and forth like this several times, I finally agreed.
She was very happy and spent several days preparing, specially buying me a bathrobe, slippers, towels, toothbrushes, and the like. Listening to her animatedly telling me all this in Cantonese, I was quite puzzled. I told her, "I'm not going to stay at your house, why are you preparing all this? That's not how a mistress behaves."
She argued back, "They said other places can't compensate me, and they'd never let me suffer like this, it's better than him."
I was both amused and exasperated, and asked her, "Aren't you afraid of using this as evidence in court?" She said she wasn't afraid, that she had everything planned out, and that her cousin was coming, so I could rest assured, everything was arranged, since he wouldn't be back for a long time anyway.
This woman is always meticulous, so I wasn't worried. I just felt sorry for that British man, and I also had a vague worry that I might have done something wrong. I thought, "If only she married a Japanese man, or even a Korean, then I wouldn't feel guilty at all."
This was my second time visiting her house.
It was the same as before, with more furniture, making it more cozy than the empty space before.
I felt a little awkward when I first came in, like a cuckoo taking over someone else's nest. But I gradually felt better, sitting on the sofa watching her running around busily. She made a salad, fried a steak, and opened a bottle of red wine. I jokingly asked if we should light a candle. She slapped her forehead, "Oh dear, I forgot!"
I pulled her into my arms, and it really felt like holding my wife. She immediately gave in, went limp, then broke free and ran to draw the curtains, before snuggling back into my arms.
During dinner, she remained seated on my lap, refusing to leave, taking a sip of wine and feeding me before drinking herself. Gradually, she blushed, reaching down to touch my penis, rubbing it against her genitals until I was completely aroused. I reached into her pants and started fiddling between her legs, quickly feeling her wetness.
She then stripped naked and started pulling at my clothes. I wasn't used to it, so I just let her take off her pants, revealing my already hard erection. She immediately grabbed it, squeezed it a couple of times, and put it in her mouth. A moment later, she even sucked on it with wine in her mouth, the alternating hot and cold sensation novel.
Sometimes, while sucking, she would glance at me and ask vaguely, "What do you want to do? Want to penetrate?" I would nod, but she would ignore me and continue playing with me until I couldn't resist anymore and lifted her up. Only then would she twist her hips and insert herself. As soon as it went in, she cried out, not loudly, just moaning softly, and then pulled my hand to make me rub her breasts.
We did it once while sitting on the chair, rested for a while, finished our meal, and then she dragged me into the bedroom. There were photos everywhere in the bedroom, some of her, some of his, posing provocatively in front of various unknown scenic spots, but mostly of the two of them, all with their arms around each other, looking affectionate, their smiles bright and satisfied. Her demeanor was dignified, ladylike, gentle, and quiet; no one could imagine that such a woman had a wanton and wanton heart.
She was an enigmatic woman; I still haven't figured her out.
The woman in the photos was now naked, dragging another man into a bedroom that didn't belong to him. I was still a little reserved, more of an uneasy feeling, as if I had suddenly entered a place riddled with cameras.
She, however, was very natural, lifting the covers and crawling inside, then pulling back a corner to call me to get on top.
I hesitated as I got into bed, still looking around, when she pinned me down. "What's wrong? Not used to it?" she asked. I said a little. She chuckled, calling me a coward, saying I was still cowering even after stealing something. I was a little annoyed by her words, so I rolled over and pinned her down again, opening my hands to fondle her breasts. I said, "See how cowardly I am!" Then I buried my face in her, kissing and licking her. She couldn't take it anymore and urged me to enter.
That day she was wild, dragging me to every corner of her house until we were both completely exhausted. Once she asked me to go to her house, and later I asked her, "Why do you want to do it at home?" She said she didn't know, she just felt different at home, especially excited and stimulating.
Especially in her and her husband's bed, surrounded by photos of the two of them, it felt like being spied on by her husband. Every time she thought about it, she couldn't stand it. She said she had actually wanted to do it for a long time, and sometimes when she was at home, just thinking about such a scene would make her wet down there, and she often had to change her underwear several times a day.
Once, I went to her house, and after I changed into my slippers and was hanging up my coat, she called me to look at her from the living room.
I turned around and saw her leaning on the armrest of the sofa, her pajamas pants pulled down to her knees, revealing her white and tender buttocks, which were swaying back and forth. I chuckled, and she told me to come over and touch her. I went over and slapped her buttocks, and she urged, "Not there, touch the cleft."
I touched it along the cleft, and it was all wet inside.
I slapped her butt again and said, "Why are you so horny?" She pouted shyly and said, "My little sister wanted it." I asked her what she wanted. She said I knew the answer. Then she knelt in front of me, took out my penis, and licked it with her tongue. I said, "Do you do this when your husband comes home?" She said, "Yes, but once he's hard, I don't care anymore, it drives him crazy."
I said, "You're really bad." She clung to me and said, "I'm not bad, I'm just horny." I said, "You're so horny! I specialize in fucking horny cunts!" After saying that, I pushed her down onto the sofa and thrust into her without thinking. She screamed, yelling, "You're an animal! A horny animal!" I said, "Yeah, I'm an animal, and so are you, you're a bitch!" She yelled, "So what if I'm a bitch? So what if I like to mate? Come on, do it! If you're so capable, go and mate with a little dog!"
That's just how she is. Outside the home, she's always a virtuous and dignified woman, but once she gets involved in this kind of thing, she becomes unrecognizable. Her madness is like that of a reincarnated lecher. This is especially pronounced at home.
Once, we watched a Japanese movie together. It featured a housewife having an affair, having sex with a man while talking on the phone with her husband. She seemed to have discovered something amazing, excitedly saying, "Why didn't I think of that? Why didn't I think of that?" Then she imitated what she saw in the movie, letting me have sex with her while calling her husband. Her
husband knew she was home and seemed to ask what she was doing. She said she was mopping the floor, saying she was exhausted, and asked her husband if he could hear her panting. That was roughly the gist of it. Anyway, I didn't understand a word; she repeated it to me after hanging up. At the time, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, whether it was a blessing or a curse. Anyway, if I married a woman like that, I'd want to hang myself.
She even told me, "I'm so excited! I've never been this excited before." I said, "Then we'll come back often to do it." I even suggested, "Why don't you try it out on your husband? Aren't foreigners more open-minded? Maybe he's into that." She said that wouldn't work; her husband is very traditional, even more traditional than Chinese people. Sometimes when she tries something a little different in bed, that British man will find an opportunity to talk to her about it, which is so annoying.
Oh, speaking of which, I suddenly remembered something. Once, we almost had a threesome. It was one of her classmates, they were inseparable.
It was probably last year's Spring Festival when she came to Beijing from Shanghai. Her British man wasn't around for about a month. She was supposed to go back to her hometown for the Spring Festival, but for some reason, she didn't go back. Feeling bored, she invited her classmate to come and celebrate the New Year with her. That classmate had wanted to come to Beijing for a long time, but she was too busy with work during the week, so she readily agreed during the Spring Festival holiday.
We went to the airport together to pick her up, and when we met, she introduced me to her classmate as her friend. But I could tell that the woman definitely knew about our relationship; there was a hint of ambiguity in her smile.
This woman wasn't young either, around thirty-four or thirty-five, and I wondered why she wasn't married yet. She was quite pretty, fair-skinned and charming, with large eyes and taut, porcelain-like skin. Probably the result of frequent beauty treatments.
However, I didn't like the way they spoke. They claimed to speak the soft, gentle Wu dialect, but I couldn't understand it at all. Their voices were very high-pitched, chattering away and making my head spin. I hadn't noticed before, but now I finally understood the true meaning of "three women make a drama." Anyway, I was thoroughly suffering the whole way. Luckily, my female classmate was sensible. After saying a little of her hometown dialect, she suddenly realized I couldn't understand her, and then consciously switched to Mandarin to chat with her, which made me feel much better, and I could even join in every now and then.
That day, I treated them to Jiumen Snacks. Faced with a pile of delicious old Beijing food, the two women were extremely excited. They tried this and that, and soon the table was piled high with dishes.
After dinner, I took them both home. At first, she didn't want me to go back, but I felt it wasn't appropriate for me to stay, so I insisted on leaving. I didn't contact them for the next few days. The two women, having just reunited, seemed to have forgotten me, wandering the streets and alleys every day. That day, probably feeling it was too much to ignore me, she called and invited me to dinner.
We went to Kong Yiji Restaurant in Houhai, a restaurant serving their hometown cuisine.
The food was light and refreshing, quite palatable, and we even had a few sips of wine while chatting happily. It was the kind of yellow wine, warmed with preserved plums and ginger, served in a large pot. It was sticky in the mouth and warm in the stomach, perfect for winter.
We started with half a jin (250ml), and after enjoying it, we ordered another half jin. Since I was driving, I didn't dare drink anymore, just kept them company, chatting enthusiastically, until it was quite late.
As we left the restaurant, my female classmate went to the restroom. We waited there. Then she said, "Don't go home today." I said, "Is it okay? She's still here." She said, "It's fine, we're not kids anymore, we know each other." I hesitated for a moment, looking at her rosy face, and finally agreed. I quickly ran to the side to call home and ask for leave, saying my clients were going out all night and I had to accompany them.
I guessed they had already discussed it beforehand. The female classmate who saw me go upstairs with her wasn't surprised at all. Once inside, she threw down her bag and started yelling that she needed to take a shower, saying she'd drunk too much and needed to sober up. Before going into the bathroom, she slyly asked us, "Why don't you two shower first?"
I thought to myself, "Should we shower together?"
Despite the banter, we ended up showering separately. After showering, everyone felt refreshed and slumped on the sofa, continuing to chat. During this time, I used my best skills, fully utilizing my Beijing-style smooth talk, making those two women laugh so hard they were doubled over, and neither of them felt sleepy. In the end, I couldn't hold on any longer and we discussed going to sleep.
They said, "No." I said, "We have to go to work tomorrow, it's the end of the year and we're busy." She said, "What does it matter? It's your own company, you're the boss." I said, "I'm really sleepy." Finally, she suggested, "How about this, we'll go inside together, you can listen to us talk, and if you get sleepy, you can go to sleep first." I said okay.
The heating in the apartment was very strong, and the room was as warm as spring. I casually covered myself with one of those thin air-conditioning blankets, while the two of them sat on the bed watching a horror movie with a bunch of snacks. They didn't look like women in their thirties at all; it was as if they had suddenly rewound and were back in their teenage years.
At first, I forced myself to stay up and watch with them, dozing off every now and then. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I vaguely felt someone kicking my butt a few times, and then I didn't know anything else.
When I woke up again, I felt someone touching me, rustling and touching my inner thighs inside my long underwear. I opened my eyes; it was dark all around, with only slivers of streetlights filtering through the thick curtains. In that dim light, I turned around and saw her staring at me, her body pressed tightly against mine. Behind her was my female classmate, also with her back to us, covered by a thin blanket.
I whispered, "Why aren't you asleep?"
She said she couldn't sleep.
I said, "You have to sleep, even if you can't. Do you think bothering me will make you sleep? I'm not a sleeping pill."
She said, "I'm more effective than sleeping pills." Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered breathlessly, "I want to."
She pulled my hand to her warm crotch; sure enough, it was soaking wet. I said, "What should we do? Let's go to the living room."
She said she didn't want to move, she wanted to stay here.
I was startled; how could I do it with her there?
She said it was okay, she was asleep and wouldn't wake up even if the roof collapsed.
I still had some reservations, but she didn't care and climbed down, pulled down my long underwear, and put my penis in her mouth, sucking it rhythmically. I was so overwhelmed by her that I didn't care anymore, and I pulled her up. She had already taken off her pajama bottoms down there, and was only wearing a nightgown on top. She straddled me and penetrated me, then started moving back and forth.
At first, she tried to restrain herself, but then she let loose, moaning and groaning. I couldn't reach her from below, so I just put my finger to my lips to be quiet. She ignored me and continued to moan happily. Eventually, I gave up. If she wasn't afraid, why should I, a grown man, be afraid? Let's go crazy together!
So I yanked her off, made her kneel, and entered her from behind. I pulled her upper body up, unbuttoned her nightgown, leaving it open, and kneaded and squeezed her exposed breasts with both hands. She couldn't take it anymore and screamed. I quickly covered her mouth. She still couldn't stand it, shaking her head and whimpering as she struggled. I thrust into her from behind, making her heave.
When her moans finally subsided a little, I let go. She said weakly, "I can't take it anymore, you pervert, you've made me lose my breath." I was startled and tried to stop her, "Keep your voice down, someone might hear."
"So what if they hear?" she said, and then she actually flipped the girl's body over and started touching her all over.
I opened my mouth in surprise, but inexplicably didn't stop her. The scene was quite novel to me, and a strange kind of stimulation excited me immensely. Watching her touch the girl's body, I was no longer worried, but hoped she would go further.
This woman never disappointed me; she actually turned the girl over and brazenly began to fondle her breasts. The girl, whether pretending or really sleeping soundly, didn't react at all to her vigorous movements. Later, she became even more audacious, not content with just touching her clothes, she actually put her hand inside.
The woman was wearing a tight-fitting thermal undershirt, perhaps because it was too tight, her hands were very clumsy inside, so she pulled it out after a while. I thought she'd given up, but unexpectedly, she went to take off the other person's clothes. First, she lifted the top, revealing a section of white belly, and then she started to pull down the other person's thermal underwear.
I was extremely excited, staring wide-eyed, both nervous and thrilled. I wanted to see the female classmate's naked body, but I was also afraid that she would wake up and scold us for being shameless. My mood was like a roller coaster, going up and down.
Just then, the other person finally woke up. In that instant, I almost went limp.
Later, I thought that the female classmate had probably been awake for a while and had been pretending to be asleep. Because when she spoke, she unusually didn't open her eyes, keeping them tightly closed, only pushing away the hand pulling at her pants, muttering, "Annoying, stop it."
She still wouldn't give up, still relentlessly pulling at the female classmate. The female classmate then started scuffling with her, yelling at us, "Are you all crazy? Why are you dragging me into this?"
To be honest, my mental fortitude isn't up to par. My biggest mistake was failing me at the crucial moment. I felt my penis slowly shrinking; the excitement and stimulation from before had vanished without a trace.
I knew that if we had persisted a little longer that day, there wouldn't have been a problem. Actually, the woman's refusal wasn't very firm; she was just a little shy. With a little more effort, I could have easily won her over. But I felt it wasn't right; some traditional values were still at play. I had fantasized about it, but when it actually happened, I felt a vague sense of unease.
The next day, I left early, and the female classmate was still asleep when I left. We met again the following day, and it was a bit awkward.
Later, after she left, I asked her what she was thinking that night. She said she didn't know; she just really wanted to wake her up and make her watch us.
I said, "You're a pervert."
She rolled her eyes and gave me a blank stare.
A sudden curiosity arose within me, and I guessed that since she and my classmate were so close, something must have happened between them. So I asked her.
She said, "Nothing much. We often slept together back then, sometimes touching and messing around, just out of curiosity, thinking it was fun. I didn't feel anything at the time." She said, "Actually, many girls are like that, it's not like we're lesbians, it's just that we feel closer doing it."
I never saw that female classmate again. I heard she got married.
Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, I've known this woman for four or five years. She's the one I've had the longest relationship with all my lovers, and if this hadn't happened, I think it would have been even longer. Because even now, we haven't grown tired of each other, and a kind of familial affection has slowly developed. Although we still keep our relationship in the naked bedroom.
This female lover fulfilled all my fantasies about women; as a lover, she was devoted, and as a friend, she was devoted. Her departure felt like a piece of my flesh had been ripped out, leaving me in pain all night.
There are many more things about us, but I don't want to recall them now. Let's wait until later, until my emotions have calmed down, then perhaps I can tell our story in detail.

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