My sexual history started at the beginning of the semester.

After a year and a half of studying in language classes in China, I, still a young child, finally achieved enough IELTS scores (I took it several times, what a clueless student...) and went to study at a university in Southern California, majoring in Tourism and Hotel Management. At this time, I was 17 years old, and it was the first time I had ever traveled far from home on my own. The moment we stepped out of Los Angeles airport, in the evening, in the dazzling, ambiguous glow of the Lost City of Angels, a petite, fair-skinned girl with a cute ponytail and a pink knee-length babydoll dress, like
a frightened little rabbit, stammered and managed to hail a taxi in broken English from a Chinese textbook. This soft, fair-skinned little rabbit seemed to have her thin clothing pierced by the masculine gaze of the dark, muscular Latino taxi driver. My face flushed instantly, and I gently closed the car door, my small hands instinctively wrapping around my still-developing, plump breasts. My slender back
trembled slightly.
The taxi swayed and rattled for nearly 40 minutes. At first, I was excitedly watching the night view outside the window, but later, my wife, exhausted from the journey, dozed off. "Hey girl!" The Latino driver's rude shout startled me. Opening my eyes, I saw that the colorful neon lights and tall buildings around me were gone, replaced by my rented apartment—an old, two-story building. I had booked this apartment through the language school, but being naive, I only realized after arriving in America that the apartment I'd paid a considerable sum for was almost an hour's subway ride from the school, and most importantly—it was in the Vietnamese district. Amidst the pointing and whispering of a group of Vietnamese men in flip-flops, I struggled to drag my large suitcase from the car, tugged at the hem of my skirt, and fearfully rushed up to the second floor. In the mailbox outside room 201, I found an envelope and pulled out the key. Once inside, I quickly locked
the door and put on the chain, my panicked heart finally calming down slightly. I had rented a tiny apartment, with only a tiny living room and a bedroom with a bathroom. My husband had seen the photos; it was fairly clean. However, I pointed out a major problem with the house: the walls were very thin—just thick wooden planks painted over, a typical American style, which meant it wasn't soundproof. We settled in
quietly that night.
The next morning, after getting ready, I prepared to change into a pretty outfit for school registration. Everyone knows the little tricks a pretty girl like me uses. After much deliberation, I chose a sleeveless white knitted vest and a light blue pleated mini skirt. The skirt was very short, only reaching about two-thirds of the way up my thigh. I frowned and muttered, "It's so easy to accidentally expose myself..." My wife thought for a moment, then pulled a pair of semi-sheer white pantyhose from the drawer. She placed her right foot on the sofa armrest, pointed her chubby toes, and gently slipped the pantyhose
onto her toes, slowly rolling it up her long legs until she reached her thighs. I tossed my long hair down and gently slipped the pantyhose onto my left foot as well. Finally, I lifted the skirt low, carefully smoothing out any unruly folds on my thighs before letting down the skirt and putting on the pantyhose. My already fair and voluptuous legs looked even more alluring and sexy. Suddenly, I looked up and saw an Asian man standing on the balcony not far away, staring at me intently. Because the building where I rented the apartment is U-shaped, my room is located in the concave part, and the rooms on both sides protrude from my room. Standing on the balconies of the two rooms, you can see completely into my balcony and even my room. My face flushed red instantly. I angrily slammed the curtains shut, muttering "Pervert!!" in a mix of rage and shame. But as I calmed down, my heart pounded with anger, yet a strange sense of pride mingled with it—the pride of captivating men. I even vaguely felt a slight dampness beneath my pink and blue lace panties, encased in white stockings. My
calves felt a little weak. Perhaps it was the surge of puberty hormones, or maybe it was because my class monitor hadn't been touched in so long since he went abroad to study, or perhaps I simply wanted it… I shook my head vigorously, unable to bear the thought any longer.
I composed myself, ate some biscuits in my room, then put on a pair of pink high heels at the door. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt a picture of a fair-skinned, adorable Asian girl. Satisfied with my appearance, I forgot my earlier unpleasantness, put on my earplugs, and happily went downstairs to find the subway station I'd planned to visit the night before.
As soon as I stepped outside, the blinding morning sunlight pierced my eyes… I kept my eyes closed. I squinted, only vaguely hearing a group of boys speaking Chinese. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I looked closely and saw four Chinese boys standing opposite me. Seeing such a pretty girl coming down from the building, the four boys froze, stopped talking, and stared at me. My face flushed again. Suddenly, my head buzzed, because I saw that the boy who had been watching her change into her skirt and stockings from the balcony was now standing among the four of them. I felt my face burning hot. I wanted to run, but... I felt like I couldn't move my legs.
I was about to slip away with my head down when the boy spoke first: "Hey, beautiful, are you Chinese too? We're going to XX University, looks like you're going there too? Which university are you at?" Hearing this, I almost fainted. These four boys were going to the same university as her! Although I was both embarrassed and scared, my usual naive and obedient personality, cultivated at home, resurfaced. Not only did I not leave, but I also answered them truthfully that I was going to the same university as them, and was also going to register. The boy and his friends were clearly excited to hear that the beautiful girl was going to the same university as them. They excitedly invited me to ride with them to the university, saying we shouldn't take the subway; these rich kids had just rented an F150 Raptor. They wanted to show off in front of the beautiful girl. In the car, I learned the boy's name; his wife called him "Brother Song," and he was a rich second-generation from some city in China.

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My sexual history started at the beginning of the semester.

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