The days I stayed at the female teacher's house

It's been about a year since I started working here. I've been with many women, but the first time is something you'll likely remember
for a lifetime.

I became exceptionally strict.

That was a time of youthful ignorance. The first time I watched porn with a group of male classmates, I
secretly , imagining the scene of having sex with the girl I liked. Men born in the 1990s should all have
similar experiences.

As a child, I was a silent boy, timidly sitting in a corner, always speaking softly with a
signature smile.

My mother was
very worried about me and often had to go to small restaurants to eat alone. Gradually, I lost my appetite and started eating late into the night,
becoming increasingly thin. Once, when I visited my mother in the hospital, she saw me and cried, and my father's eyes also reddened
.

Within a few days, because my father and the teacher's husband were acquaintances, they sent me to the teacher's home to
live and eat, and to attend extra classes.

At that time, the teacher was the homeroom teacher of a neighboring class. If it weren't for... They probably wouldn't even know there's
such . Tutoring was quite popular back then, and teachers often had ten
students in each group.
The teacher, in her thirties, had a five-year-old daughter, and her husband, also a lawyer like my father,
was very busy and often away from home. Because of her high income, her house was large and well-decorated, and she even hired a helper

. The teacher, who wore glasses and had a very refined appearance, always used imported cosmetics,
so she looked about 25 or 26 years old. She had a great figure, often wearing low-cut tops and smelling of perfume.

Every morning I went to class with my teacher, and after work, we'd have evening tutoring. We'd sit at a small round table, and my teacher always
sat next to me. Actually, I couldn't stand it because I was allergic to the smell of her perfume
. But because I could often see her cleavage, I always endured it. Sometimes I had fantasies,
but she was, after all, my teacher.

Until one day... I remember it was around 1 or 2 a.m., I woke up... Passing through
my teacher's room ... In that instant, I heard an unusual sound—a woman's low moans. The door was ajar, and intense
curiosity compelled me to peek inside. Through the dim light, I saw the teacher's legs spread wide, her
body moving between them, while she emitted low moans. I didn't know what was happening; I just
stood there, staring blankly.
She touched my cheek, making a soft sigh. As always, that gentle gaze—I'll never forget it.

It was autumn, already a bit chilly, and I was only wearing underwear. Perhaps because I caught a chill, I shivered
... A sneeze. The sound stopped for a moment, followed by a "Who's there?" I was terrified, but too
scared to run, so I answered.

For some reason, my little brother was stubbornly erect. She looked at me for a while, then suddenly called me to her
bed in a very gentle voice. I was at a loss, but I did as she said.

She dimmed the lamp and had me lie down. Looking into her eyes, I felt my heart pounding almost as hard as it had been during
my stay at the female teacher's house
. Suddenly she kissed me. I closed my eyes, letting our tongues intertwine; it felt so good, really.
It probably lasted for a minute or so. Lips touched... At the same time, I heard her heavy breathing, a
scent I hadn't felt in a long time.
A moment later, she sat down. (Almost instantly, I felt a surge of fear throughout my body, like I
'd overslept and missed class for the first time.) The note I found on the desk reassured me; she had asked for leave for me.
She looked at me with tenderness and sadness in her eyes, but that look vanished in an instant.

She began to kiss me, kissing my cheeks, kissing my body. I felt as if my body was burning,
a feeling I had never experienced before. I wanted to do something, but I didn't know. What should I do? Instinctively, I reached out
to caress her body, to kiss her smooth skin, her rounded breasts, and so we caressed and
kissed each other. I don't know how much time passed, but she parted her legs and straddled me, her panties seemingly already
removed . She grasped my penis and rubbed it against her vulva, feeling how wet and incredibly pleasurable it was.

Waves of pleasure washed over me, making me feel as if I were about to die.

With just a gentle touch, my penis slid inside, feeling so warm. I couldn't help but begin to thrust...
Gradually, just as I could barely breathe... At that moment, I felt an indescribable pleasure. It seemed to be
the first time I felt I could control everything; scenes from porn movies flashed before my eyes. The fantasy finally erupted
like a volcano, intense, a fleeting moment of pleasure. After a brief moment of intense pleasure, she lay on top of me,
our breathing sounds like a moving symphony, the world becoming so dreamlike.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tight contractions deep within her vagina, and soon my body regained
its vitality . I wanted to move, but she seemed to want to sleep, so I bent my legs and began my first thrust… My face flushed crimson, and I felt that this was the most beautiful expression of a woman, especially her forward-leaning figure. 　　I was almost out of control, as if the world would collapse if I didn't engage in that simple piston-like movement.

I paced back and forth. I had never felt anything like this before, so intense that it could almost destroy one's mind. Frenzy, that's the only word to describe it . The room echoed with the groans of two people. There were no words, only panting and sounds of pleasure. 　　Exhaustion made it hard for me to keep my eyes open, and I soon fell asleep. When I woke up... After the afternoon audience , I was exhausted and could barely move. 　We lay there facing each other, and she looked at me, her hand gently stroking my face. I'll remember that look in her eyes—gentle yet tinged with sadness, her expression filled with pity. I think I'll remember it for a lifetime , a lifetime. 　　She came home very early that day. She smiled at me as soon as she entered, a bright, almost radiant smile. She was carrying a lot of equipment and had brought her daughter home as well. It was rare to see her so happy. She cooked a lot of dishes that day, as always...

Her husband hadn't returned, but everyone seemed happy.

(Around 11 PM, I went to bed as usual. In bed, I tossed and turned, the scene from the previous
night , making it hard to fall asleep. A voice inside urged me to go to her room. I was at a loss,
unsure if I was doing the right thing. But I couldn't control myself, couldn't stop myself from going to her room

. She wasn't asleep, leaning against the headboard reading. I didn't dare go in, just stood outside the door staring at her. She
noticed me, looked at me, and smiled, a gentle, innocent smile.
She asked me to unlock the door and turn off the lamp. I quickly slipped into her bed, very quickly. Once again,
we were face to face, looking at each other. She was wearing a pink silk nightgown.) Suddenly, I felt an urge.
I reached out and caressed her breasts. Through her nightgown, I could feel their softness and elasticity.

She closed her eyes, enjoying it, letting me caress her. I could almost hear my heart pounding, almost
bursting out of my chest. I tried to kiss her lips, her cheeks, her chin,
just as she had.

She loved French kisses, tongues entwining and spiraling, sucking each other's saliva, like the two of
us dancing a Spanish dance, feeling indescribably wonderful. She sat up, took off her nightgown, and
busied herself cooking and washing in the dim light.
Then, I followed her hand and gently touched her breasts.

The ground was black, the black of a sweet dream, and beneath the blackness lay a beautiful angel.

I kissed her breasts, suckling at them, like a newborn baby, greedily wanting to drink every drop of milk. She cried out
, as if the previous act had been too stimulating for her…

She inquired about my father's identity, a hint of desire stirring within her. But desire often brings disappointment.
It became reality. I kissed her as I tried to explore that mysterious triangle with my hand.
With each movement, I could hear her breathing, becoming increasingly erratic, increasingly heavy.

Over there, it was already a humid and hot world; further down, beyond the rainforest, I clearly… Chu Mei's small rise to fame.
Just a gentle touch, and she trembled as if electrocuted. I began to slowly massage her, and after a short while, she
hugged me, telling me how comfortable it felt. I tried to speed up the rhythm, changing the direction of my massage, testing the different
fingers .

Sometimes, when I applied a little more pressure, I could hear her uncontrollable moans. I began to control
the rhythm of my finger movements; with each change in my thumb, I felt her change—sometimes moaning, sometimes panting, completely
out of control.

Everything seemed to be getting interesting, at least that's what I thought at the time. Controlling a woman, especially
one of higher status, is a rather wonderful feeling. "Faster, faster,"

she cried, and
I obeyed her will. The groans grew more intense and louder, and I began to
feel a sharp pain in my shoulders and neck. I tried to struggle, but she held me tightly, and I couldn't move. In those few minutes, I could feel her like a vast ocean. And so, we faced each other, slowly thrusting. Because of the pleasure, her eyes narrowed,
and she moaned softly as I moved. I lifted her legs, her slender , smooth thighs. She looked so beautiful, unbelievable, that I could actually make love to my teacher in such a way. We lost contact. 　　I was going crazy, completely out of control, and began to use all my strength to thrust and pump desperately. After a dizzying wave of pleasure, I lay weakly on the bed, countless sperm shooting into my teacher's body. 　　I lay there, powerless. She looked at me with that same expression, gentle, loving. She stroked my face, murmuring, "It seems he, it really seems..." 　　I just lay there quietly, a little sleepy and tired. She told me a lot, a lot about her university days. I listened vaguely and fell asleep soon after. 　　During my second and third years at the university, because I lived in her house, I would sleep in her room whenever her husband wasn't home. It wasn't always sex; sometimes we just talked, about my studies, her family, her life experiences, and her insights. 　　She turned on the bedside lamp and called me in. I felt like a child who had done something wrong, head down, afraid to look at her, because... During her 　　university days, she had a boyfriend, a classmate, and they were deeply in love. She told me about their happy times . They would stroll along the riverbank at the university every day, watching the afterglow of the sunset. A group of them read books in the library, reciting Pushkin 's poems. They secretly met, kissed, and made love in the library, each time terrified of being discovered. 　　Those days were romantic and beautiful, fulfilling and happy. She said it was the happiest time . Until graduation, when they were forced into job assignments, her boyfriend had no choice but to return to his hometown, while she was left behind in Shanghai. The painful separation, the wounds of the times, left them both weeping uncontrollably. There was nothing to remember them by, except for exchanging a copy of Pushkin's poems they had read. The memory was thus preserved in a book. 　　Later, through an introduction, she met her current husband. They felt good about each other and got married . They lived a quiet life, though her husband wasn't particularly interested in or skilled in that area. He was a very good man, 　　living in the 20th century... In the mid-1990s, during a population boom, everything became difficult, and the opportunity to get into a good school was hard to come by. 　　She said, "I'm very similar to that guy. Single eyelids, a high nose, gentle eyes, and a quiet temperament. He must be a sweet person. Being with him, you feel like the world isn't changing, and time has stopped at that point . There's a special feeling of dependence, and your heart feels particularly solid." 　　More than ten years have passed, and she still deeply loves him. Even when she first saw me, she was a little impulsive. 　　After that, we kept in touch frequently. Sometimes, after class, I would go to her house for dinner. I was worried that someone might hear us. Suddenly, she screamed loudly, and her body stiffened. I felt that sex wasn't the most important thing between us. She saw me as her child, her lover, and cherished me.

I learned to skate. Every time around 9 PM, I would go home to skate because I didn't want to cause my parents any trouble; she
had a normal family.
It was warm, warm, and my body seemed to begin to melt. She started moving up and down, starting slowly, then faster and faster
. In 1999, the year I was admitted to university, her family immigrated to Canada. Since then, I've

missed her terribly. Being in a foreign land, she must have felt similarly.
How many such beautiful love? Pure and natural, delicate without a trace of affectation, without any questions about status,
just the mutual attraction between two people. Thinking of my love, thinking of my life experiences, thinking of the guidance she gave
me... Thinking of all that fills me with gratitude towards her. I love her,
like , with respect and admiration.

I wish her a lifetime of happiness, and I also wish everyone could have a true love at least once.

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The days I stayed at the female teacher's house

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