My sexual awakening period

Since we're talking about playmates

, here we're referring to girls. Actually, you could also say neighbors. Because we lived in factory dormitories when we were kids, adults and children alike knew each other well. Neighbors naturally became playmates. However, there's a later section about some adult women in the neighborhood, so this section is called "playmates." Playing

house was definitely a common game between boys and girls when we were young. Unfortunately, nothing much happened in public. The earliest sexually related story I remember with a little girl was like this.

It was when I was about four or five years old. In kindergarten, they talked about parasites. They said there was a kind of worm (I can't remember the name) that crawled out of the anus at night. That night, a girl came to play with me, let's call her A. Back then, I was clever, behaved well, and didn't cause trouble, so I often got praised and was quite popular with girls—of course, not now. Since the adults in my family were out, and I thought about the lessons I'd had during the day, I decided to pretend to be a doctor.

Back then, I was rather reserved (I can't think of a better word), unwilling to take off my pants and act as a patient. If it were now, I would definitely unbuckle my belt as soon as the door was closed. A trusted me a lot, so she agreed to act as a patient. Actually, we already had a basic understanding of male and female distinctions, but after I said so many nice things, it was understandable that she was willing.

After the door was closed, she unbuckled her belt and pulled her pants down to her knees, probably because she was afraid the adults would come back.

Since the target was her buttocks, she lay face down on the bed with her buttocks sticking out. She was a 4 or 5-year-old girl, not yet fully developed, and I had seen her genitals before. Because there was only one toilet in the kindergarten, and they were afraid something might happen to the children, they didn't close the door except when the teachers were using it. As soon as class ended, boys and girls would crowd together in line, and it was common to see girls' genitals.

They all looked pretty much the same to me. It felt like there was a slightly protruding fleshy pad, about an inch wide and two or three inches long, between her legs, I don't know if that's the right description, and then there was a tightly closed slit in the middle. I couldn't distinguish the labia, nor could I see the vaginal opening or urethral opening. Of course, A's was the same. However, at the time, I wasn't interested in this seemingly unremarkable thing (what a pity), and went straight to the point—the anus.

Since we were going to examine it, of course we had to spread the two buttocks apart. I used my little hands to pull on both sides, and the two pieces of flesh that a young girl usually keeps tightly closed separated, revealing the anus.

A young girl's anus is really nice. There was no problem with hemorrhoids, not even the so-called anal marks, just a small hole, slightly pink. I remember even taking a breath and smelling it. There was no odor, maybe she had washed it.

Then came the examination. The tools were a small wooden ruler and a pencil. The method was to insert these two things a little into the anus, and then take them out. After all, I was afraid of hurting her. During the insertion, I didn't forget the original purpose of role-playing. Actually, it didn't take long, only about 10 minutes from when I put my pants back on.

A few minutes later, my mother came back, which was lucky. It wasn't anything particularly special. But I've always remembered it. The main thing is that I really saw the anus. Actually, as a little boy, I had many opportunities to see the buttocks of girls my age, and even to see the buttocks of adults in the women's bathhouse when my mother took me there

, but this was the only time I saw an anus. Below is another girl. Let's call her B. My story with her lasted for several years. I was also a bit older. She used to live next door to me, but there wasn't much of a story about that. Later she moved away, but she lived nearby and often came to play with me; that's when the story started. This was

when I was between 10 and 15 years old. After I turned 10, I started having feelings for the opposite sex. And she was the one I played with the closest, so my feelings fell on her. At that time, I already knew how to use my hand to make my penis hard, but I didn't know how to make it ejaculate. Maybe I hadn't, but anyway, I was just one step away from ejaculation. I'll tell you how I learned later in the next post.

During summer vacation, she often came to my house to watch TV. The adults had to go to work, which was really convenient for me. I could sit on the bed to watch TV at my house. Back then, my favorite thing to do was lie in bed, wearing only underwear, get my penis hard, like a tent, and keep talking to her so she could see my erection. I felt incredibly good talking to her.

Sometimes I'd stand behind her and press my erect penis against her back. I don't know if she didn't understand, was embarrassed, or wanted to watch TV, but she never got angry and left. Unfortunately, I wasn't very bold or thoughtful back then, so I didn't take anything further.

Another thing was secretly watching her. She was around 10 years old, her breasts were starting to develop, but she didn't wear a bra, not even the tight tank tops we have now. In the summer, she wore sleeveless clothes. Since she was on vacation at home, she wasn't paying much attention, so I could feast my eyes.

But from the side, they really looked like fried eggs, slightly protruding, and her nipples and areolas hadn't grown much compared to mine. It wasn't much to see, but it was the psychological stimulation.

Later, one time, I was about 13 or 14 years old... I got my hands on a pornographic book (the classic term back then, without the current terms like pornography, erotica, or adult content). When she came over, of course, there were no adults at home. I took out the book, and in front of her, I read it while getting an erection, then went into the inner room, leaving the book outside. I wanted to slip out while she was flipping through it, have a chat, and hopefully something even more exciting would happen.

Unfortunately, after several minutes, she didn't react. Then she asked me what I wanted, and I had to say nothing and leave. Sigh. Now I see all the guys using this trick with great success, but back then I hadn't even seen it before; it was my original idea, yet I failed miserably. What a disaster.

Then, the most exciting thing happened. One evening, she came to see me. I was doing my homework, and she took a book from the bookshelf to read. The bookshelf was on my desk, so she often bumped into my right hand. That day, I don't know why, I suddenly had a sudden impulse and did it. But there were several adults playing mahjong in the outer room, and my door wasn't closed. Looking back, I'm really scared.

It was springtime, and she was wearing one of those stretchy, stirrup-style pants. While she was taking a book from the shelf again, I quickly pressed my right palm against her buttocks and immediately slipped my hand inside her pants. The waistband of those stretchy pants was just a rubber band.

Luckily, she was only wearing underwear, so I slipped my hand inside without hesitation, simultaneously turning her body so that I was essentially holding her buttocks with my right arm, my palm covering her genitals. Ah, it felt good. There were adults outside too, it was really exciting.

She didn't react at first, but when I pressed my entire palm against her genitals and started moving some fingers, she began to struggle. Perhaps because she was embarrassed, her movements were very small, but I was sitting while she was standing, and she struggled and moved to the side. It only lasted about ten seconds before I had to pull my hand out.

Actually, I was too nervous at the time to really savor it. After that, she came less often and was very careful, so I couldn't do anything about it. This was the first time I had consciously touched a woman's genitals, and it was unrestricted contact.

Next up is C. She was a year or two older than me. When I was 14 or 15, she was already quite well-developed. Our story started rather suddenly. It was summer vacation, and one day she came to visit, wearing a skirt. Maybe I was impulsive back then, because I couldn't resist.

At first, I was just testing the waters. I deliberately didn't go to the toilet to pee. Instead, I went to the chamber pot in the room. Right where she could see me, I took out my penis, which was already hard, so I couldn't pee right away. I wasn't in a hurry, so I just stood there and waited. After finally finishing, I went back to her side and found that she didn't react. I thought, "This is promising."

I sat close to her, watching TV, and slowly placed my hand between our legs. I was sitting very close, so I inevitably touched her thigh, but still no reaction. I confidently placed my whole palm on her thigh. My palm gradually warmed up, and I slowly moved my palm on her thigh, first to her knee, then to her calf, then back to her knee, all the way to the top of her thigh.

I stopped, not daring to go any further. I only dared to touch her thighs. The strangest thing was about C. She was older than me, she should have known about these things, so why did she let me succeed? This time, my sexual satisfaction was stronger because her body was almost indistinguishable from an adult's. From then on, I felt she was also a target, and I started looking for opportunities.

That same summer, one afternoon around 1 or 2 pm, I went to her house and found her taking a nap. I was about to leave when I thought, "Isn't this a good opportunity?" So I tiptoed back in. She was facing away from me, her back to the wall.

It was summer, and she was at home. She was wearing a thin shirt, no bra, and a pair of cloth boxer briefs. I leaned down, facing her back, especially her buttocks, and took a deep breath (hehe, I'm used to it). Then I gently lifted one corner of her shirt, revealing her waist. The elastic band of her pants was too tight, leaving a mark on her waist, so I didn't dare pull it down any further.

Because her back was to me, it wasn't convenient to unbutton her clothes, so I ended up taking off my pants and standing at the head of her bed. I could vaguely see a bit of her breasts through her neck, and I swung my hard penis around for a few minutes before leaving.

Later, I often went to her house to watch TV, usually during the morning and afternoon when the adults were at work. It was quite funny watching TV. Basically, we were both on the bed; she usually sat, and I always lay down. After a few minutes, I would take off my shorts, letting my penis get hard. Then I would chat with her. Sometimes she would watch her own thing, and I would play with my penis next to her.

A few times, while talking to her, I would inch closer to her, rest my head on her lap, and let my face face her chest and abdomen. I could touch her breasts and smell the scent between her legs. It was quite funny. You could say we were watching TV and chatting while playing a game of taking advantage of each other. But it was like we both had split personalities, doing it all at the same time, and nothing happened.

Twice, she was also watching TV on the bed, and I sat right next to her. Imagine, naked from the waist down, my little brother erect, right next to a 16 or 17-year-old girl—how erotic! I even put my leg on her thigh and secretly slipped my hand under her waist to hug her. It's a pity I didn't take this opportunity further. Looking back, the reason she didn't resist was probably because she was just starting out with this kind of game, and it satisfied her curiosity about sex.

Sadly, after that summer, she went to study elsewhere, and when I saw her a few years later, she was married with children.

Finally, let's talk about D. There's only one relevant fragment.

Let me first describe our dormitory situation. Our dormitory was somewhere between an apartment building and a dormitory complex. Several families shared one toilet and a small common area. Since we were all colleagues from the same factory, it was common to visit each other. In the summer, we often only closed the screen door to keep out mosquitoes, not people. Hehe, it was convenient for me.

Here's what happened with D. She was 4 or 5 years younger than me and lived next door. That day I went to the bathroom. When I opened the door, I found her inside, staring at me blankly, probably because she was so surprised. My first reaction was to close the door and wait a bit. Standing outside, seeing no one around, my lust rekindled. I tried pulling the door shut; thankfully, it wasn't closed. I slipped inside, and she was still squatting.

She seemed a little flustered when she saw me, but didn't yell. I bolted the door and told her to ignore me and continue using the toilet. A little while later, she finished. Heh, having someone next to her definitely wasn't pleasant. She stood up after wiping. I squatted down, directly in front of her genitals. Her genitals were similar to A's, just thicker and more prominent. There were a few sparse hairs on them.

I touched them; hmm, soft.

Since she had just finished, I didn't dare get too close. I couldn't see very clearly. So, I told her to come out and then pulled her into my house. I told her to take off her pants and lie on the bed. Now, it was much clearer. I discovered two folds of flesh on either side of the deepest slit. Now I think they were the slits between the labia majora and minora.

Last time, I didn't even think about looking at A's vulva, and I only touched B's, but didn't look. This time, I touched it carefully and saw it clearly; it felt really good. Just as I was about to separate the slits, her mother called her from outside. I had no choice but to tell her, with a mix of sweet talk and threats, not to tell anyone, and then let her go. She probably didn't tell anyone after that, but without that momentary impulse, I didn't dare to think about it anymore. That

's enough for this section. Actually, these four people are quite representative. Basically, each of them had one of my "first times." So, I remember them very clearly, but there's not much of a story. For example, there's not much detailed description of the psychological activities or tactile sensations during those events. It's just that I recounted those events; it's more like a display of material. Oh well, my skills aren't up to par. I'll try harder next time. I plan to add two more sections. Neighbors—about the adult women living next door. The Bus – This story recounts my experiences of taking advantage of others on the bus, which is essentially about sexual harassment, a topic currently trending.

As mentioned before, since it's about the early stages, there's no explicit sex scene. Apologies.

The Second Neighbor

– In the first section, I mentioned that the neighbors here refer to adult female neighbors. Also in the first section, I described the dormitory structure and the relationships between neighbors, all essential for the later plot development.

Without explicit sex scenes, the story focuses on my experiences of voyeurism and molestation. Actually, I had several targets, but I'll mainly talk about two here. Of course, for me, this involves many firsts.

The first one, let's call her A, always. She was my first voyeur, and it was through her that I began my "neighborhood life."

She was in her thirties at the time. From now on, the basic information will be about the circumstances surrounding our encounters. She was a factory worker, with a well-proportioned figure and relatively firm flesh, so her breasts appeared perky, but not very large or sagging, and her buttocks were average.

Back then, women of that age often wore homemade, four-cornered cloth underwear at home in the summer. As mentioned earlier, people often visit each other's homes, and they dress similarly. Therefore, seeing thighs is relatively easy. However, since it's not tight-fitting, seeing the shape of the buttocks, or even the bulge of the pubic area, is difficult. But I was lucky enough to peek at her showering, and more than once.

Showering was like this: since there was only a communal washroom, you could shower there, but others couldn't come in. To avoid trouble, people usually took the water home and used a bathtub. In the summer, of course, you showered every day. The first time was like this. I was about 10 years old, or maybe a little older. That day I saw A getting water, and I knew she was going to shower. I had an urge to watch her shower, but openly watching was definitely out of the question. After she closed the door, I loitered around her doorway. Occasionally I'd go over to listen to the sounds, which would spark my imagination.

My gaze swept across the door, trying to find a way in. Finally, I noticed something: near the lock, there seemed to be a sliver of light shining through. Great! I looked back. Although the nearby houses were relatively enclosed, I was still worried someone might come in.

Seems like no one's there! I bent down slightly and peered through the small hole. I saw a gleaming white figure moving, but the hole was too small to see clearly. It looked like she was starting to get dressed. Indeed, I'd wasted too much time earlier. But at least I'd found a good spot; there would be plenty of opportunities later. A little while later, A came out after showering. When I saw her, although her clothes were the same as usual, she looked even more alluring to me.

The next day, while the adults were at work, I found a small awl and carefully enlarged the hole a little, but I didn't dare make it too big, afraid of being discovered. I tried looking inside; not bad, it was clearer. After she got off work, I went to her house for a visit. While she was cooking, I peeked through the door. The hole wasn't very obvious, so I was relieved. Waiting for that blissful moment.

In the evening, when she started showering, there were people at the nearby houses; it was too dangerous, so I had to give up.

A few days later, everyone went out to cool off after dinner, including my parents. I saw that she was still busy in the washroom, and I knew my chance had come. After she finished filling the water and closed the door, I looked outside and figured no one would come, so I went to her door.

Haha, through that small hole, I could see the bathtub perfectly. Less than two meters from the door, it was like heaven was on my side! I started watching as she undressed. Summer clothes are light, and she took off a slightly tight-fitting top that looked like a t-shirt, revealing her bra. Back then, there wasn't any fancy lingerie or magic bras; it was just a very ordinary white fabric bra with foam padding. It covered her breasts completely. Thank goodness, she was about to take it off. Hehe. I almost burst out laughing.

The bra was a back-opening style. She put her hands behind her back, unhooked it, and the bra came loose. She brought her hands back to her chest, and the bra naturally slipped down, revealing her breasts to me. Ah, that felt good! As mentioned before, she had a good figure, curvy but not bulky. So her breasts looked firm and perky. Of course, the lower hemispheres were larger than the upper ones, with a faint fold of flesh between the lower edge and her body. Her breasts weren't very large, and her nipples and areolas were quite dark.

Not long after, something even more exciting began.

She was only wearing the boxer shorts mentioned before. With a slight bend, the shorts came down, revealing her secret place. Her abdomen was relatively flat, with no excess fat around her waist. What I was more interested in was her lower body—wow, such a thick, dark patch of pubic hair! From the front, it was an inverted triangular black patch, completely covering her genitals. The moment she stepped into the bathtub, her legs parted. I saw her pubic hair extending all the way down to her lower body. It was a short time, so I didn't see her labia or anything like that.

Of course, I couldn't keep staring inside; I also had to keep an eye on what was happening outside, so watching her bathe was intermittent.

When she showered, it was very ordinary, just like everyone else: wet her body, apply soap, rub it in, and then rinse off the foam with water—it was that simple. She didn't put in much effort when washing her genitals, probably because she did it every day. When she finally dried herself, she slightly parted her legs, leaned forward a little, and vigorously rubbed her genitals a couple of times with a towel in one hand, then went to get dressed, and I went back to my room.

Later, I often saw her showering. Anyone who has ever used a bathtub knows that people usually sit inside or on the edge of the tub; even when standing, they rarely spread their legs very wide. Plus, she had a lot of pubic hair, so all I could see was a dark shadow; I couldn't see the details of her genitals.

Also, she always seemed normal while showering; she never engaged in any masturbation as described in online articles. Maybe her husband could satisfy her. Haha, just speculation. I was young then, and I only knew to peek at her showering. I couldn't see the details; just seeing her pubic hair was enough for me. Other than that, there was nothing else she did.

Two years later, she moved away. The woman who moved in brought me even more joy.

Let's call the woman in the next house B.

She was in her early twenties then, had been married for a few years, and didn't have any children yet.

She was rather voluptuous, heavier than A, but not in a way that made her look unattractive. On the contrary, she was very attractive with her curves. Being young, she often wore a nightgown, even when visiting other people's homes. Of course, this was all in the summer. The one-piece nightgown looked like a sundress on top and a miniskirt on the bottom. Moreover, the material was quite thin and sheer, so you could often vaguely see her bra and panties.

At this point, she certainly couldn't wear the boxer briefs anymore; she wore what's called a triangle panty. Of course, it was still relatively conservative, usually white, but sometimes red or pale yellow. Since the clothes were hung to dry in the common area, it wasn't difficult to see what her underwear looked like. But what was even more exciting was seeing the underwear she was wearing.

She had a rather carefree personality; sometimes she'd sit with her legs spread apart, and sometimes she'd even bend one leg and put it on a chair. Since her pajamas were short, there was a high chance she'd accidentally expose herself. If I was in a good position, I could see a piece of fabric peeking out from where her legs met, as if something underneath was stretched very tightly.

However, our real story began with boxer briefs.

Later, she became pregnant, and it happened to be summer when she was heavily pregnant. Because of the pregnancy, her clothes changed. She often wore a loose-fitting, sleeveless cloth shirt, and she started wearing boxer briefs.

One afternoon, I went to her house to watch TV, and suddenly I noticed she had fallen asleep. She was sleeping on her back. Because she had fallen asleep while watching TV, she was lying along the shorter side of the bed, so her legs were bent upwards, and because of her large belly, they weren't together but spread apart. From above, her legs formed a diamond shape with one corner open at the bottom.

I first went to her legs, bent down, and placed my head between them, without touching them, of course. I took another breath and smelled it. Because it was cloth underwear, the material was quite stiff, so the hem didn't touch her thighs; there was a small gap, and I wanted to peek inside. Unfortunately, the gap was too small to see clearly.

I thought for a long time and finally decided to make that gap bigger. However, just as one of my fingers touched the underwear, her legs suddenly twitched, and I was startled and quickly stood up straight. Looking again, she didn't seem to be awake. I felt that the force I used to touch her underwear was about the same as a fly landing on it; perhaps she thought there was a fly and moved subconsciously.

But I dared not touch her underwear again and then went to her head side.

First, I leaned down, my face less than an inch from hers, and carefully examined her face. Then I took out my already hard penis, waved it above her face for a while, and then put it back in (I didn't know how to masturbate at that time, as mentioned before). That was it.

However, during her pregnancy, what I enjoyed most was her breasts.

As mentioned before, she wore sleeveless and loose-fitting tops, and she often didn't wear a bra, probably because they were too swollen. The best opportunity for me to peek at her breasts was when she played mahjong. Because of the mahjong, both arms had to be rested on the table. Her top was sleeveless and loose, so if the position was good, her breasts were clearly visible.

When she played mahjong, I pretended to watch her play, and I happened to be half-squatting, so my line of sight was almost the same as her chest. I was also behind and to the side, and through the large hole under her armpit, I could see her breasts standing erect.

Because she was pregnant, and because she was already quite full, her breasts were truly magnificent at that time. The entire surface of her breasts had some black spots, and the areolas and nipples were even larger and darker. Especially after seeing A's photos, the difference between the two was striking. And since it was her first pregnancy, her breasts didn't sag at all; they stood erect. This meant that when she wore her clothes forward, the gaps under her armpits were even larger, which was incredibly convenient for me. That summer, basically, looking at her two large breasts became a must-do for me.

Now, let me talk about watching her shower.

I still peeked through the peephole in the door. I won't go into the details, but I'll describe what I saw. Watching B shower yielded far more than watching A. Leaving aside her upper body, B's lower body had much less pubic hair, only above the clitoris, and practically nothing below. Of course, I'm referring to the clitoris now; back then, peeking wouldn't have revealed it. So, from the front, only a peach-sized patch covered her pubic hair at the very top, and below that, nothing. I don't know if she shaved it or if it hadn't grown back.

This meant that even when she was standing with her legs together, I could still see her labia and other things below that patch of pubic hair. Of course, you can't separate the parts, but it's still the fleshy part of her vulva, unlike A, where all you see is a clump of hair. Also, B is fuller, so her vulva has more flesh, and it protrudes more noticeably, no wonder it looked so bulging when she was exposed.

My most important memory of B is that I learned to masturbate through her clothes.

B was relatively young, and time was passing. Compared to A's underwear, B's was much more alluring. Her bras were usually thin, with mesh on the upper part and lace around the edges. Her panties were also partly made of sheer fabric, with narrower and smaller straps in the front. So, I often targeted them.

At first, I didn't know how to masturbate. Back then, when no one was looking, I would take off her underwear, usually wet and not yet dry. I would use it as a wet towel to wipe my groin, buttocks, and sometimes even my anus—basically, to leave my mark on her underwear. A few times, I would take her clothes shortly after she hung them out to dry. I would urinate on her clothes and then take them to hang up to dry, haha, like they had been washed with my urine.

Then, one day, a new chapter began.

It was a summer afternoon, and I secretly took two pieces of B's underwear to my room, ready to start my mark-leaking operation again. I started by wiping my groin a few times with it, and then my penis started to get hard.

As I mentioned before, it's been several years, but my penis still gets hard when I'm sexually aroused. After my penis got hard, I noticed some dirt in the circular groove at the base of the glans. Hmm, it probably hadn't been cleaned in a long time. I decided to remove this dirt and put it on my underwear, killing two birds with one stone.

I wrapped my glans with her underwear and used it to clean the dirt like a towel. After a few minutes, I suddenly felt a tingling and numb sensation near the glans, and I knew I was about to ejaculate. Although I didn't know how to masturbate at that time, I had started to experience nocturnal emissions, so I still remembered the feeling before ejaculation. Finally, a thick stream of hot semen spurted out, and I quickly caught it with B's underwear. At that moment, I thought, so this is what masturbation is like. Before, my penis would get hard, and I had ejaculated before; now, I could finally do both things together.

I took the semen-stained underwear to the washroom to wash it and hung it out to dry again.

Later, I often used those underwear to help me masturbate. Sometimes I would wash the underwear clean and put it back where it was. But sometimes, I would wet the semen-stained underwear with water, rub it a little, and then put it back. That way, it was as if I had washed her underwear with my semen, and when she wore it next time, haha, she would have intimate contact with my offspring.

After learning how to masturbate, my "sex life" became more diverse.

Before, I would often sneak in when B was napping, but I would only take out my penis and shake it a few times, or gently touch her buttocks. Now it's different. When I stand in front of her bed again, looking at the sleeping B, and take out my penis, it's no longer a simple meeting, but a passionate piston-like motion with my hand. When I'm about to ejaculate, I usually squat down and ejaculate on the floor under the bed. It's harder to notice here.

Later, I discovered that B's sister sometimes comes to nap too, oh, that's great. However, they usually slept in two separate rooms, so I had to tiptoe between them, eventually ejaculating next to someone. Finally, one day, the two sisters slept in the same bed, twin beauties. I ejaculated happily in front of them.

This blissful life lasted for several years. As I grew older, I became more timid. After all, targeting neighbors is like walking along the riverbank; you're bound to get your shoes wet. Getting caught is different at 14 or 15 than at 18 or 19. So I did it less and less.

(III) The bus

The first two sections were about things with acquaintances. The so-called vast world offers great opportunities. More often, the targets are in society, although not as deep as with acquaintances, but there are more opportunities to try and experience. For me, the better opportunities were on the bus. Because when I was in junior high and high school, I took the bus to school every day. At that time, public transportation was not as developed as it is now, and it was very crowded, which was convenient for me.

At first, I didn't know and dared not make any physical advances. Even when I was squeezed next to a woman, I was careful not to touch her. What a waste of a good opportunity! Looking back, I really regret it. Back then, I just glanced at pretty women. The train is a great place to look at beautiful women. There are many people, you're close, and the journey is long. Gradually, I started paying attention to specific parts of their bodies: breasts, thighs. I looked for any accidental exposure or exposed skin. I started by looking at their breasts.

Of course, looking at breasts doesn't mean looking at the outline shown under their clothes, but rather seeing their skin or bra. Although those tight-fitting tank tops look like they reveal curves, because they are elastic, they usually cling to the body, which is not conducive to my purpose.

I like sleeveless clothes, with a fabric that doesn't drape too much, and importantly, the opening under the armpits should be relatively large, especially at the bottom. This way, because the opening is large and the fabric around the edges has a certain stiffness, it naturally forms a loose circle around the body. As long as you pay attention and have a good angle, you can get something out of it. If she raises her hand to hold the armrest, that's perfect.

I usually choose a slightly back side position, where I can usually see the side or upper part of the bra. If the bra is made of thin material, has cutouts, or is small, then the skin on the sides of the breasts can be seen.

This assumes both people are standing. If she's sitting and I'm standing next to her, I'll definitely try to peek through her neckline. The conditions are similar, but because women are usually more careful in this situation, I haven't had any particularly memorable experiences with this.

Another scenario is when I'm sitting and she's standing. If she's facing slightly in front of me, I can peek through the gap between her shirt and top, but in this case, the gap is usually very small, and you can't see much. However, that's the pleasure of voyeurism. Although in summer, women's clothes are thin, and you can often see the shape and even color of a bra through the fabric, seeing even a tiny bit through the gap between the clothes and skin is very satisfying.

A couple of days ago, I was taking a bus home. I had my fun like that. The woman was wearing a white shirt, and she looked like a saleswoman leaving work. She was standing in front of me, and because of the crowd, she had to face the window and bend slightly. That's when my opportunity came. Her blouse was parted between the second and third buttons, creating a gap about an inch long and half an inch wide, positioned directly above her chest.

Through this gap, I could see she was wearing a pink bra, a light pink, the kind that's most arousing. Moreover, the top of her bra cups was low and flat; I suspected it was oval-shaped. Thus, not only could I see the bra, but I could also see part of the skin above her breasts. How lucky!

Speaking of breasts, there's one woman I have to mention. I first saw her on a bus. There weren't many people around, and I was about a meter away. I was just casually looking around, but when I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off her. The sleeveless cuffs of her dress were outrageous. The exposed cuffs were at least three inches long; it was clearly homemade, so careless. Cool, yes, but someone else was enjoying it.

This opportunity was too good; I only tilted my head slightly and saw her bra. It seemed quite conservative. The bra was white, with wide side panels. Taking advantage of the car's bumps, I leaned back a little and saw her breasts, completely covered by a bra. No wonder she didn't care about her clothes; the inner protection was quite thorough.

Why have I been talking about this somewhat unsuccessful experience for so long? Haha, because later, I actually saw her breasts—completely bare, without any covering. As fate would have it, she turned out to be the daughter of the owner of a bookstore near my house. I didn't know at first, but later I discovered she often looked after the bookstore for her mother so her mother could go home for lunch.

A good opportunity arose, and that summer, I went there every day around 1 p.m. Although it was hot, there were fewer people, and she was always there. However, I usually just stole a few glances at her; nothing special. But one day, I got my fill of what I was looking for.

That day, when I arrived, she was minding the stall. Perhaps a lot of books had been returned recently, because she was sorting them and putting them back in their place. I first looked at the books that others had just returned on the counter. She sorted a few, then turned to put them back on the shelf. Because there was a chair between us, she was in a semi-bent-over posture. I was just glancing casually when suddenly something caught my eye. It shocked me. It was one of her breasts! She wasn't wearing a bra! Wow.

It turned out that the dress she was wearing was different from the one I'd seen in the car last time. Actually, the armpit openings were smaller. But because she was leaning over, my gaze, angled from top to bottom, passed through the opening that separated her from her body, revealing her breast.

Her breasts weren't large, the conical kind, and looked quite firm. Perhaps the way they sagged as she leaned over accentuated this. Her skin was quite fair, and the nipple was also quite pale. It was a small, raised nipple. Looking back now, it was probably a virgin's breast. She was young and pretty then. This scene made my heart race and my muscles tense. The breasts of a young woman in the prime of her youth were displayed before me without any covering. Thankfully, no one else was around.

I continued pretending to look at the books on the counter, and she kept putting them back on the shelf after tidying them up. Every time she turned around, I would shift my gaze accordingly. I watched this intermittently several times until she finished tidying up the books, and I had to go to the shelf next to her to find something. But that scene occupied my entire mind, and I just borrowed a book and left.

Later, that kind of good thing never happened again; maybe she wasn't wearing a bra that day and it was just a momentary lapse of attention. Later still, the bookstore moved away. She was the only woman whose breasts I ever saw, besides peeping at my neighbor.

Now, let's talk about my first intimate encounter. That time, I was passive. I was in junior high school then. One afternoon, I was walking home. The bus was crowded. There was a young woman in front of me. When I ride the bus, I always carry my backpack by hand, letting it hang down naturally. Because when it's crowded, carrying the backpack on my back is very inconvenient. So, I held onto the handrail with one hand, and with the other hand holding the backpack hanging down, it was right at her hip. At first, I subconsciously tried not to touch her.

Suddenly, she bent down to pick something up, causing her hip to thrust backward. I had nowhere to go, and my backpack hand was pressed against her hip, but she didn't seem to mind, continuing to grope around on the floor. It suddenly dawned on me that in a crowded bus, this kind of contact was considered acceptable.

When she straightened up, instead of backing away as before, I subtly moved forward a little. As the bus swayed, my hand repeatedly touched her hip and then separated. That time, I didn't even care what her hip felt like. My mind was filled with the thought that I had touched a young woman's buttocks, but nothing happened—how wonderful! My

backpack hand was originally clenched into a fist. Slowly, I held the bag with only my thumb and forefinger, extending the other three fingers, so that not only the back of my palm, but almost the entire back of my hand was pressed against her buttocks. Time seemed to fly by; soon I had to get off the bus, and my first intimate encounter was over. However, this also marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

Soon, I decided to take the initiative. At that time, I was using a student monthly pass, so the fare wasn't a problem. One Sunday afternoon, I made my move. I changed buses several times, but found no good opportunities, perhaps due to inexperience or shyness. It was getting late, and I was ready to give up and wait for another time.

But fate intervened; on the last bus home, my chance came. The bus was crowded, and after boarding, I quickly glanced around and saw a pretty girl. I slowly squeezed behind her and stopped. But then I realized that her boyfriend was right next to her. No way! Oh well, I'll just stand here. Anyway, I'm almost home; even if I can't touch her, looking at a pretty girl is fine too.

But with the intention of showing off my skills today, and a beautiful woman in front of me, the impulse was simply uncontrollable. As they say, lust knows no bounds. Let's do it. I adjusted my position, standing on the side furthest from her boyfriend, half my body overlapping with hers, so that one of my arms was right behind her.

I slowly moved my hand forward, touching her buttocks, then pulled it away. It was as if it had been an accidental touch due to the car's swaying. I touched her a few more times like this, thankfully, she didn't react in any particular way, nor did she move her position. Okay. I placed the entire back of my hand on her buttocks, the half closest to me. Then I left it there, motionless.

It was probably spring or autumn then, and she wasn't wearing many clothes. She was wearing a pair of very ordinary, thin, stirrup-style leggings. Therefore, I could feel the softness and elasticity of her buttocks, and that delicate sensation. I don't know if she thought it was just a normal, unintentional touch, or if she was just embarrassed, but I saw no unusual behavior from her.

I pressed my advantage, moving the back of my hand towards the middle of her buttocks. My middle finger rested precisely on the cleft of her buttocks. Then I curled my middle finger, letting it sink into that warm and mysterious crevice. I think she must have realized it was intentional, but she still didn't say anything, only that she was embarrassed. Haha, that made things easier for me. But I didn't dare to go any deeper, after all, her boyfriend was next to me.

So, my middle finger was embedded in her buttocks, while the back of my hand pressed against her plump bottom, enjoying it comfortably until they got off the bus. It lasted for more than ten minutes. It was truly a worthwhile trip. After I got off the bus, I felt a little scared. After all, it was my first time, and I went too far. Actually, most of my experiences afterward weren't as deep as this one. So, I remember it very clearly.

This attack heralded the arrival of my era of finding fun on public buses. Of course, I wouldn't do it on every bus; I usually only considered it if the woman was decent-looking. There also had to be suitable conditions, so even if I had a satisfactory target, it wouldn't necessarily work out. The most common situations were as follows:

I stood behind or next to the woman. At this time, as I described earlier, I used my hanging hand to feel her buttocks or thighs. Alternatively, if conditions are good, you can use your penis to nudge her buttocks. Of course, the season is very important, and you can't wear too many clothes. If you're bold enough, you can even unzip your pants, take out your penis, and make more intimate contact.

If I'm standing in front of someone, then I have a different target—breasts. I shift my position slightly so that the woman is behind me on the side. Then I use my elbow to touch her breasts. In addition to using my whole body to press against her breasts, I can also pretend to carry a bag. This way, my elbow bends and hits her breasts.

When I'm sitting, I'm not idle either. First, I can touch the thigh of the person sitting next to me. At first, keep the thighs touching and then separating. First, put your hand on your own thigh, then slowly slide it down to between the two thighs. Then move your thigh to the side until the two thighs are pressed tightly together, so that your palm is naturally on the woman's thigh. If you feel there's a possibility of going further, you can reach your palm down until it's under the woman's thigh, at which point it's as if her thigh is pressing on my hand.

Sometimes, you can also go upwards. If the carriage wasn't crowded and no one was paying attention, I would place my palm on her thigh. This way, with my palm against her thigh, my tactile sensitivity was greatly enhanced, allowing me to carefully feel and experience her thigh. If I had a backpack, I would place it on my knees to block others' view.

I remember once, in my first year of high school, I went to catch the bus around 6 a.m. There weren't many people on the bus then, and I sat on a long bench at the back. To my right was a girl. She seemed a little older than me, quite mature, and very pretty.

Initially, there was no one in front of us, so I did as I mentioned before, placing my palm on her left thigh, using my backpack as cover. Seeing that she didn't react, I decided to move. Actually, while I said "look," I didn't dare turn my head to see her expression; I just sensed that she neither moved her leg nor tried to block me.

I gently raised my hand slightly, maintaining contact, and slowly moved it back and forth. Now I was essentially caressing her thigh; it felt like a young girl's—warm, supple, and slightly trembling, I couldn't tell if it was my nervousness or hers. Perhaps we were both nervous.

Slowly, I increased the pressure, pressing my hand more firmly against her thigh, continuing the back-and-forth caress. After two stops, more people arrived, and a woman in her thirties stood in front of us, about a meter away. My backpack came in handy, blocking her view. I was able to continue my enjoyment. Later, I noticed the woman glancing at us occasionally; perhaps she sensed something was amiss. However, since the girl didn't react, she probably decided not to interfere.

Unfortunately, after two more stops, the girl got off. As she waited at the door, looking at her curvaceous figure and pretty face, I felt even more that this opportunity was truly rare, something you could only dream of. After she got off the bus, I looked back a few times, still reluctant to leave. Actually, later on, to avoid running into my classmates, I rarely made advances towards girls around my age on my way to school.

Sitting in my seat, I could touch the thighs of women standing next to me. If there were many people, and the woman was squeezed next to me, that was easy—similar to touching the woman sitting next to me. If there weren't many people, and I had a particularly appealing target, then I had to take the initiative.

I usually did this: I'd put my hands on my knees, then sit with my back slightly turned to the window, so my knees would be in the aisle next to the seat. The goal, of course, was to stay near the target's thighs and then look for an opportunity. First, I'd touch them, then move away; after a few times, I'd stick close and not let go. However, in this situation, because there weren't many people, and my hand movements were far from my body, there was no concealment, so I usually did it on the bus home at night, when there were no lights.

The above all involved hands; now for something less common—touching breasts with my head. This only works when I'm sitting. When it's crowded, people standing close to seats often find their upper bodies pushed forward because their lower bodies are blocked by the seats while their upper bodies have space above the heads of seated people. If it's a woman, there's a chance your head might touch her breasts.

Usually, they're very careful, trying to support themselves with their hands to prevent leaning forward too much, especially avoiding touching their breasts. But sometimes, whether it's because they're not strong enough or they feel it doesn't matter in this situation, some women will still squeeze their breasts right next to my head.

It's best in the summer. Clothes are less and thinner then. I like wearing cotton t-shirts, and it's best if the woman is slightly plump; then, touching them really feels like a tidal wave. In this situation, I straighten my neck, even tilting it slightly outward, anticipating the collision with those big breasts. Of course, if the woman isn't satisfactory, I'll still turn my head towards the window to avoid it.

Below are a few memorable incidents. First, a very pleasant one. Back then, the buses were divided into two sections, connected by a turntable. There were railings on either side of the turntable, topped with canvas canopies for rain protection. That time, after I boarded the bus, I walked to the turntable and noticed a beautiful woman in her early twenties near the railings. Taking advantage of the crowd boarding at the next stop, I squeezed next to her.

When standing close to the railing, you usually have your back to it, or face the dusty canvas canopy. More and more people boarded the bus, and the turntable area gradually became so crowded that it was hard to move. Haha, I started to make my move too.

At first, I did what I usually did: touched her thigh with the hand that held my backpack. Since we were basically parallel, normally I would just touch her thigh. That day, for some reason, I was in a very good mood. After touching her thigh a few times, I pulled my hand behind my legs. Because I was leaning against the railing, my legs weren't pressed tightly against it, but rather leaned at an angle, so there was a gap. She was doing the same, of course.

Then I moved my hand sideways to the gap between her legs, and pulled it up, so now her entire buttocks were pressed against my hand. And no one could see it. Haha, now it's perfect. I can savor it properly.

She struggled a few times, seemingly trying to get rid of my clutches. Unfortunately, there were too many people, and she couldn't break free at all. I saw her struggle a few times, so I turned to look at her. She was looking at me too. Her face showed a very shy expression, a little unhappy, and a little evasive. It seemed like she was the shy type. Okay, let's take a gamble. I looked at her expressionlessly, as if I didn't know what was going on, and then turned my head back, but my hand didn't stop.

When I was about to get off the bus, I suddenly reached my hand to her other side, as if I had grabbed her buttocks, and then pulled it back. Of course, it was just a quick movement. People thought my backpack had been accidentally tripped by her. Little did they know it was all my initiative.

As I walked in front of her, she turned her head away disdainfully. Hmph, I pretended not to see and moved to the car door. Anyway, I got the better deal. Actually, after her buttocks pressed down on my hand, it was too tight, making it difficult to move my hand around. However, her expression and behavior gave me a greater sense of accomplishment, so I was quite pleased.

However, pushing your luck too far always leads to trouble. One night, I was sitting in the last row next to a woman around 30 years old. At first, I just touched her thigh, and then slowly moved to her buttocks. Actually, at that time, it was only the edge of her buttocks. Unexpectedly, she lifted the leg closest to me and placed it on top of the other leg. In this way, half of her buttocks was lifted off the seat, and thus away from my hand. It was probably a kind of voluntary withdrawal.

That day, I don't know why, but I impulsively thought, "You lifted your buttocks, fine, I'll keep reaching in." Her body leaned more and more, the gap under her buttocks got bigger and bigger, and my hand went in deeper and deeper.

Suddenly, she started cursing. She didn't directly say that someone was harassing her. She just vented her anger like a shrew. A woman in her thirties, when she started cursing, it was unbelievable. She didn't repeat herself for several sentences. Everyone on the bus turned to look at her, and at me too. People could definitely tell that someone had done something to her. But they didn't know if it was groping or picking her pocket.

I could only stare blankly ahead, as if no one was around. The people on the bus watched her cursing alone, and no one said a word, so they slowly turned their heads back. I finally escaped a disaster. Later, I thought, maybe her buttocks were raised too high, and when I put my hand in, I might have touched her genitals, which crossed her line, so she exploded. However, I really didn't feel what her genitals felt like. Sigh, I lost out this time. I should be more careful next time. Now,

let me tell you something happier. It was quite exciting. That time, I was sitting in my seat, and next to me stood a so-called OL (office lady). She was wearing a business suit and a knee-length skirt. Because it was crowded, I easily placed my hand on her thigh, slightly above her knee.

I left it there for a moment, and seeing she didn't react, I moved my hand up her thigh a little. It was already inside her skirt. I felt a surge of excitement. Pretending to look behind me, I glanced up as I turned my head. Yes, she stood there expressionless, looking out the car window as if nothing was wrong. Perfect, if you're alright, what do I have to be afraid of?

Originally, because she was facing me at a 90-degree angle, my hand, which was at my side, was facing her leg. I slowly started to turn my wrist upwards to a 90-degree angle, so that it made contact with the inside of her thigh. At the same time, my palm became the contact surface, making the sensation even more sensitive. The upward movement of my hand didn't stop. Finally, it stopped at the middle of her thigh.

Because my upper arm had been close to my body, with my forearm making the movements, if I wanted to go any further, my upper arm would have to leave my body, which would require a larger range of motion. Besides, the current position was already quite inside; having learned from past mistakes, I didn't want to cross the line again.

My hand hovered there, and the feeling was noticeably different. The skin on the front of her thigh, just above her knee, was very dense and firm, and my hand moved across it without any resistance. However, the skin on the inner side of her thigh, towards the middle, was noticeably thinner, more delicate, and slightly looser, and my hand felt noticeably slower moving across it. At the same time, I felt a warmth. Could it be the warmth emanating from that office lady's genitals? Or maybe it was just my own nervous heat.

Just then, the bus got stuck in traffic. Haha, a golden opportunity! I was reluctant to take my hand out. Her leg was slightly twisting, trying to get rid of my hand. Unfortunately, the movement was too small.

Later, after being stuck in traffic for a while, the driver, unable to bear everyone's demands, opened the door and let everyone take care of themselves. When I got off, I squeezed behind her again. Just as I placed my hand on her buttocks, she suddenly turned around and said, "Why are you pushing? Hmm, why are you angry now? What happened earlier?" I thought maybe now it was just my buttocks that were touched, and everyone didn't care. Just now, I put my hand inside her skirt. If everyone finds out, she'll be so embarrassed. Sigh, so obsessed with saving face. Next time, what if she doesn't yell and someone touches her underwear?

Another time, I was standing behind a girl. First, I touched the edge of her buttocks. Then I gradually moved towards the center. Suddenly, I realized that where there should usually be underwear, there was no feeling at all. All the way to the middle of her buttocks, the entire buttocks were smooth. Since she was only wearing a thin, floral-dyed skirt, it was basically like touching her buttocks directly. Whether she wasn't wearing underwear or something like a thong, I don't know.

Now, I touch her much less on public transport. I usually only pay attention to situations where there's no risk, like someone accidentally exposing themselves. I take the bus less often now, and public transport has improved; it's not as crowded as it used to be. Also, in recent years, there's been so much talk about sexual harassment. Everyone's become more vigilant, and women are more willing to fight back, unlike before when they were so shy, conservative, and silent. When I started, neither the harasser nor the harassed knew such a thing existed, so I was ahead of my time again. Haha.

This article is for little boys to learn from, and for little girls to use for self-defense. ^_^

Playmates:

Since we're talking about playmates, here we're referring to girls. Actually, you could say neighbors. Because we lived in factory dormitories when we were little, adults and children knew each other well. Neighbors naturally became playmates. However, there's a section later about some adult women in the neighborhood, so this section is called Playmates.

Playing house was definitely a common game between boys and girls when we were little. But unfortunately, nothing much happened in public. The earliest sexually related story I remember with a little girl was like this. I

think I was 4 or 5 years old. In kindergarten, they talked about parasites. They said there was a kind of worm (I can't remember the name) that crawled out of the anus at night. That night, a girl came to play with me, let's call her A. Back then, I was clever, behaved well, and didn't cause trouble, so I often got praised and was quite popular with girls, though not now. Since the adults in my family were out, and I was thinking about the classes I'd had during the day, I decided to pretend to be a doctor.

At that time, I was rather reserved (I can't think of a better word), and unwilling to take off my pants to be the patient. If it were now, I would definitely unbuckle my belt as

soon as the door was closed. A trusted me a lot, so she agreed to be the patient. Actually, we already had a basic understanding of gender distinctions, but after all the nice things I'd said, it was understandable that she agreed. After the door was closed, she unbuckled her belt and pulled her pants down to her knees, probably because she was worried about the adults coming back.

Since the target was her buttocks, she lay face down on the bed, her buttocks sticking out. She was a 4 or 5-year-old girl, not yet fully developed, and I'd seen their genitals before. Because the kindergarten only had one toilet, and they were worried about the children, they didn't close the door except when the teachers were using it. As soon as class ended, boys and girls would crowd together in line, and seeing girls' genitals was common.

They all looked pretty much the same to me. It felt like there was a slightly protruding fleshy pad, about an inch wide and two or three inches long, between her legs—I don't know if that's a good description—and then a tightly closed slit in the middle. I couldn't distinguish the labia, nor could I see the vaginal opening or urethral opening. Of course, A's was the same. However, at the time, I wasn't interested in this seemingly unremarkable thing (unfortunately), and went straight to the point—the anus.

Since I was going to examine it, I naturally had to spread the two buttocks apart. I used my small hands to push on both sides, and the two pieces of flesh that a young girl usually keeps tightly closed separated, revealing the anus.

A young girl's anus is truly wonderful. There were no hemorrhoids, not even the so-called anal marks; it was just a small opening, slightly pink. I remember even taking a breath and smelling it. There was no odor; perhaps she had washed.

Then came the examination. The tools were just a small wooden ruler and a pencil. The method was to insert both items a little into the anus and then take them out. After all, I was afraid of hurting her. While inserting them, I didn't forget my original role-playing purpose. Actually, it didn't take long, only about 10 minutes from when I put my pants back on.

A few minutes later, my mother came back, which was lucky. It wasn't anything particularly special, but I've always remembered it. The main thing was that I actually saw an anus. Actually, as a little boy, I'd seen girls' butts many times, even been taken to the women's bathhouse by my mother and seen adults' butts, but this was the only time I'd seen an anus.

Next is another girl. Let's call her B. My story with her lasted for several years. I was also a bit older. She used to live next door to me, but there wasn't much of a story about that. Later she moved away, but it was still very close, and she often came to play with me. That's when the story started.

It happened when I was between 10 and 15 years old. After I turned 10, I started having feelings for the opposite sex. And she was the one I played with the closest, so my feelings fell on her. At that time, I already knew how to use my hand to make my penis hard, but I didn't know how to make it ejaculate. Maybe I hadn't, but anyway, I was just one step away from ejaculation. I'll tell you how I learned later in the next post.

During summer vacation, she often came to my house to watch TV. The adults had to go to work, which was really convenient for me. I could sit on the bed to watch TV at my house. Back then, my favorite thing to do was lie in bed, wearing only underwear, get my penis hard, like a tent, and keep talking to her so she could see my erection. I felt incredibly good talking to her.

Sometimes I'd stand behind her and press my erect penis against her back. I don't know if she didn't understand, was embarrassed, or wanted to watch TV, but she never got angry and left. Unfortunately, I wasn't very bold or thoughtful back then, so I didn't take anything further.

Another thing was secretly watching her. She was around 10 years old, her breasts were starting to develop, but she didn't wear a bra, not even the tight tank tops we have now. In the summer, she wore sleeveless clothes. Since she was on vacation at home, she wasn't paying much attention, so I could feast my eyes.

But from the side, they really looked like fried eggs, slightly protruding, and her nipples and areolas hadn't grown much compared to mine. It wasn't much to see, but it was the psychological stimulation.

Later, one time, I was about 13 or 14 years old... I got my hands on a pornographic book (the classic term back then, without the current terms like pornography, erotica, or adult content). When she came over, of course, there were no adults at home. I took out the book, and in front of her, I read it while getting an erection, then went into the inner room, leaving the book outside. I wanted to slip out while she was flipping through it, have a chat, and hopefully something even more exciting would happen.

Unfortunately, after several minutes, she didn't react. Then she asked me what I wanted, and I had to say nothing and leave. Sigh. Now I see all the guys using this trick with great success, but back then I hadn't even seen it before; it was my original idea, yet I failed miserably. What a disaster.

Then, the most exciting thing happened. One evening, she came to see me. I was doing my homework, and she took a book from the bookshelf to read. The bookshelf was on my desk, so she often bumped into my right hand. That day, I don't know why, I suddenly had a sudden impulse and did it. But there were several adults playing mahjong in the outer room, and my door wasn't closed. Looking back, I'm really scared.

It was springtime, and she was wearing one of those stretchy, stirrup-style pants. While she was taking a book from the shelf again, I quickly pressed my right palm against her buttocks and immediately slipped my hand inside her pants. The waistband of those stretchy pants was just a rubber band.

Luckily, she was only wearing underwear, so I slipped my hand inside without hesitation, simultaneously turning her body so that I was essentially holding her buttocks with my right arm, my palm covering her genitals. Ah, it felt good. There were adults outside too, it was really exciting.

She didn't react at first, but when I pressed my entire palm against her genitals and started moving some fingers, she began to struggle. Perhaps because she was embarrassed, her movements were very small, but I was sitting while she was standing, and she struggled and moved to the side. It only lasted about ten seconds before I had to pull my hand out.

Actually, I was too nervous at the time to really savor it. After that, she came less often and was very careful, so I couldn't do anything about it. This was the first time I had consciously touched a woman's genitals, and it was unrestricted contact.

Next up is C. She was a year or two older than me. When I was 14 or 15, she was already quite well-developed. Our story started rather suddenly. It was summer vacation, and one day she came to visit, wearing a skirt. Maybe I was impulsive back then, because I couldn't resist.

At first, I was just testing the waters. I deliberately didn't go to the toilet to pee. Instead, I went to the chamber pot in the room. Right where she could see me, I took out my penis, which was already hard, so I couldn't pee right away. I wasn't in a hurry, so I just stood there and waited. After finally finishing, I went back to her side and found that she didn't react. I thought, "This is promising."

I sat close to her, watching TV, and slowly placed my hand between our legs. I was sitting very close, so I inevitably touched her thigh, but still no reaction. I confidently placed my whole palm on her thigh. My palm gradually warmed up, and I slowly moved my palm on her thigh, first to her knee, then to her calf, then back to her knee, all the way to the top of her thigh.

I stopped there, not daring to go any further. I only dared to touch her thighs. The strangest thing was about C. She was older than me, she should have known these things, so why did she let me have my way? This time, my sexual satisfaction was stronger because her body was practically indistinguishable from an adult's. From then on, I considered her a target and started looking for opportunities.

That same summer, around 1 or 2 pm one afternoon, I went to her house and found her taking a nap. I was about to leave when I thought, "Isn't this a good opportunity?" So I tiptoed back in. She was facing away from me, her back to the wall.

It was summer, and she was at home. She was wearing a thin shirt, no bra, and a pair of cloth boxer briefs. I leaned down, facing her back, especially her buttocks, and took a deep breath (hehe, I'm used to it). Then I gently lifted one corner of her shirt, revealing her waist. The elastic band on her pants was too tight, leaving a mark on her waist, so I didn't dare pull it down further.

Because her back was to me, it wasn't convenient to unbutton her clothes, so I ended up taking off my pants and standing at the head of her bed. I could vaguely see a bit of her breasts through her neck, and I swung my hard penis around for a few minutes before leaving.

Later, I often went to her house to watch TV, usually during the morning and afternoon when the adults were at work. It was quite funny watching TV. Basically, we were both on the bed; she usually sat, and I always lay down. After a few minutes, I would take off my shorts, letting my penis get hard. Then I would chat with her. Sometimes she would watch her own thing, and I would play with my penis next to her.

A few times, while talking to her, I would inch closer to her, rest my head on her lap, and let my face face her chest and abdomen. I could touch her breasts and smell the scent between her legs. It was quite funny. You could say we were watching TV and chatting while playing a game of taking advantage of each other. But it was like we both had split personalities, doing it all at the same time, and nothing happened.

Twice, she was also watching TV on the bed, and I sat right next to her. Imagine, naked from the waist down, my little brother erect, right next to a 16 or 17-year-old girl—how erotic! I even put my leg on her thigh and secretly slipped my hand under her waist to hug her. It's a pity I didn't take this opportunity further. Looking back, the reason she didn't resist was probably because she was just starting out with this kind of game, and it satisfied her curiosity about sex.

Sadly, after that summer, she went to study elsewhere, and when I saw her a few years later, she was married with children.

Finally, let's talk about D. There's only one relevant fragment.

Let me first describe our dormitory situation. Our dormitory was somewhere between an apartment building and a dormitory complex. Several families shared one toilet and a small common area. Since we were all colleagues from the same factory, it was common to visit each other. In the summer, we often only closed the screen door to keep out mosquitoes, not people. Hehe, it was convenient for me.

Here's what happened with D. She was 4 or 5 years younger than me and lived next door. That day I went to the bathroom. When I opened the door, I found her inside, staring at me blankly, probably because she was so surprised. My first reaction was to close the door and wait a bit. Standing outside, seeing no one around, my lust rekindled. I tried pulling the door shut; thankfully, it wasn't closed. I slipped inside, and she was still squatting.

She seemed a little flustered when she saw me, but didn't yell. I bolted the door and told her to ignore me and continue using the toilet. A little while later, she finished. Heh, having someone next to her definitely wasn't pleasant. She stood up after wiping. I squatted down, directly in front of her genitals. Her genitals were similar to A's, just thicker and more prominent. There were a few sparse hairs on them.

I touched them; hmm, soft.

Since she had just finished, I didn't dare get too close. I couldn't see very clearly. So, I told her to come out and then pulled her into my house. I told her to take off her pants and lie on the bed. Now, it was much clearer. I discovered two folds of flesh on either side of the deepest slit. Now I think they were the slits between the labia majora and minora.

Last time, I didn't even think about looking at A's vulva, and I only touched B's, but didn't look. This time, I touched it carefully and saw it clearly; it felt really good. Just as I was about to separate the slits, her mother called her from outside. I had no choice but to tell her, with a mix of sweet talk and threats, not to tell anyone, and then let her go. She probably didn't tell anyone after that, but without that momentary impulse, I didn't dare to think about it anymore. That

's enough for this section. Actually, these four people are quite representative. Basically, each of them had one of my "first times." So, I remember them very clearly, but there's not much of a story. For example, there's not much detailed description of the psychological activities or tactile sensations during those events. It's just that I recounted those events; it's more like a display of material. Oh well, my skills aren't up to par. I'll try harder next time. I plan to add two more sections. Neighbors—about the adult women living next door. The Bus – This story recounts my experiences of taking advantage of others on the bus, which is essentially about sexual harassment, a topic currently trending.

As mentioned before, since it focuses on the early stages of this, there's no explicit sex scene. Apologies.

The Second Neighbor

– In the first section, I mentioned that the neighbors here refer to adult female neighbors. Also in the first section, I described the dormitory structure and the relationships between neighbors, all essential for the later plot development.

Without explicit sex scenes, the story focuses on my experiences of voyeurism and molestation. Actually, I had several targets, but I'll mainly talk about two here. Of course, for me, this involves many firsts.

The first one, let's call her A, always. She was my first voyeur, and it was through her that I began my "neighborhood life."

She was in her thirties at the time. Subsequent descriptions will focus on the circumstances surrounding our encounters. She was a factory worker, with a well-proportioned figure and relatively firm flesh, making her breasts appear perky, but not very large or sagging, and her buttocks were average.

Back then, girls that age often wore homemade, four-cornered cloth underwear at home in the summer. As mentioned earlier, people frequently visited each other, and this was what they wore. So, it was relatively easy to see their thighs. However, because it wasn't tight-fitting, it was difficult to see their buttocks or even the bulge of their genitals. But I was lucky enough to peek at her showering, and more than once.

Showering was like this back then: since there were only public washrooms, you could shower there, but others couldn't come in. To avoid trouble, people usually took the water home and used a bathtub. In the summer, of course, you had to shower every day. The first time was like this. I was about 10 years old, or maybe a little older. That day I saw A getting water, and I knew she was going to shower. I immediately had an urge to watch her shower, but openly watching was definitely out of the question. After she closed the door, I loitered around her doorway. Going over occasionally to listen to the sounds was good enough, it could arouse my endless fantasies.

My gaze swept back and forth across the door, trying to find a way in. Persistence pays off! I finally spotted a sliver of light near the door lock. Good! I glanced back, still hesitant to let anyone in, even though the nearby houses were relatively enclosed.

Seems empty! I crouched down slightly and peered through the small hole. I saw a blurry white figure moving, but the hole was too small to see clearly. It looked like she was getting dressed. Indeed, I'd wasted too much time. But at least I found this good spot; there would be plenty of opportunities later. A little while later, A came out after washing up. When I saw her, although her clothes were the same as usual, she looked even more alluring to me.

The next day, while the adults were at work, I found a small awl and carefully enlarged the hole a little, but I didn't dare make it too big, afraid of being discovered. I tried looking inside; it was clearer. After she got off work, I visited her house. While she was cooking, I peeked through the door. The hole wasn't very noticeable, so I was relieved. Now, I waited for that blissful moment.

As evening approached, when she started taking a bath, several houses nearby were occupied, making it too dangerous, so she had to give up.

A few days later, after dinner, everyone went out to cool off, including my parents. I saw her alone still busy in the bathroom, and I knew my chance had come. After she finished filling the tub and closed the door, I looked outside, thinking no one would come, and went to her door.

Haha, through the small hole, I could see the bathtub perfectly. Less than two meters from the door, it was like heaven was on my side! I started watching as she undressed. Summer clothes are light, and she took off a slightly tight top, like a t-shirt, revealing her bra. Back then, there wasn't much of that kind of sexy lingerie or magic bras; it was just a very ordinary white, fabric bra with foam padding. It covered her breasts completely. Thank goodness, she was about to take it off. Hehe. I almost burst out laughing.

The bra was a back-opening style. She put her hands behind her back, unhooked it, and the bra loosened. Her hands returned to her chest, and the bra naturally slipped down, revealing her breasts. Ah, that felt good! As mentioned before, she had a good figure, curvy but not bulky. So her breasts looked firm and perky. Of course, the lower hemispheres were larger than the upper hemispheres, with a faint crease between the lower edge and her body. Her breasts weren't very large, and the nipples and areolas were quite dark.

Not long after, something even more exciting began.

She was only wearing the boxer shorts mentioned before. With a slight bend, the shorts came down, revealing her private area. Her abdomen was relatively flat, with no excess fat around her waist. What interested me more, of course, was her lower body—wow, such a thick, dark patch of pubic hair! From the front, it was an inverted triangular black patch, completely covering her genitals. The moment she stepped into the bathtub, her legs parted. I saw her pubic hair extending all the way down to her lower body. The time was short, so I didn't see her labia or anything like that.

Of course, I couldn't stare inside the whole time; I also had to keep an eye on what was happening outside, so watching her shower was intermittent.

While she was showering, she was very ordinary, just like everyone else: wet her body, apply soap, rub it in, and then rinse off the foam with water—it was that simple. She didn't put in much effort washing her genitals, probably because she showers every day. When she finally dried herself, when she got to her genitals, she slightly spread her legs, arched her body slightly forward, held a towel in one hand, and vigorously rubbed it a couple of times before going to get dressed. I went back to my room.

Later, I often saw her showering. Anyone who has ever used a bathtub knows that people usually sit inside or on the edge of the tub; even when standing, they rarely spread their legs very wide. Plus, with her abundant pubic hair, all I could see was that dark mass; I couldn't see the details of her genitals.

Furthermore, her bathing was always normal; she never masturbated like in the articles online. Perhaps her husband could satisfy her. Haha, just speculation. I was young then, only knowing to peek at her bathing. I couldn't see the details; just seeing her pubic hair was enough for me. Other than that, nothing else happened.

Two years later, she moved away. The woman who moved in brought me even greater pleasure.

Let's call the woman in the next house B.

She was in her early twenties then, married for a few years, and didn't have children yet.

She was quite voluptuous, fatter than A, but not in an unattractive way. On the contrary, she was curvaceous and very attractive. Being young, she often wore a nightgown, even when visiting others. Of course, this was all in the summer. Those one-piece nightgowns looked like a sundress on top and a miniskirt on the bottom. The material was also quite thin and sheer, so you could often vaguely see her bra and panties.

At this point, she definitely couldn't wear those boxer briefs anymore; she wore what's called thongs. Of course, they were relatively conservative, usually white, but sometimes red or pale yellow. Since the clothes were hung to dry in a public area, it wasn't difficult to find out what her underwear looked like. But what was even more exciting was seeing the underwear she was wearing.

She was a bit carefree; sometimes she would sit with her legs spread apart, and sometimes she would even bend one leg and put it on a chair. At these times, because the hem of her pajamas was very short, there was a high chance of something showing. If I was in a good position, I could see a piece of fabric peeking out from where her legs met, as if something inside was stretched very tightly.

However, our real story began with boxer briefs.

Later, she became pregnant, and it happened to be summer when she was heavily pregnant. Because of the pregnancy, her clothes changed. She often wore a loose-fitting sleeveless cloth shirt on top, and she started wearing boxer briefs on her bottom.

One afternoon, I went to her house to watch TV, and while I was watching, I suddenly found her asleep. She was sleeping on her back. Because she fell asleep while watching TV, her legs were bent upwards along the shorter side of the bed, and because of her large belly, they weren't together but spread apart. From above, her legs formed a diamond shape with one corner open at the bottom.

I first went to her legs, bent down, and placed my head between them, without touching them, of course. I took another breath and smelled it. Because her underwear was made of fabric, the material was quite stiff, so the hem wasn't touching her thighs; there was a small gap, and I wanted to peek inside. Unfortunately, the gap was too small to see clearly.

I thought for a long time and finally decided to make the gap bigger. However, just as one of my fingers touched the underwear, her legs suddenly moved. I was startled and quickly stood up straight. Looking again, she didn't seem to be awake. I think the force I applied to her underwear was about the same as a fly landing on it; perhaps she thought there was a fly and moved instinctively.

But I dared not touch her pants again, and then I went to her head.

First, I leaned down, my face less than an inch away from hers, and carefully examined her face. Then I took out my already hard penis, waved it above her face for a while, and then put it back in (I didn't know how to masturbate at that time, as mentioned before). That was the end of it.

However, during her pregnancy, what I enjoyed most was her breasts.

As mentioned before, she wore sleeveless and loose-fitting tops, and she often didn't wear a bra, probably because they were so full. My best chance to peek at her breasts was when she played mahjong. Because of the mahjong, her arms had to rest on the table. Her top was sleeveless and loose, so if I was in a good position, her breasts were clearly visible.

When she played mahjong, I pretended to watch her play, and I half-squatted down, so my line of sight was almost at the same level as her chest. I was also behind and to her side, and through the large gaps under her armpits, I could see her perky breasts.

Because it was during her pregnancy, and she was already quite full, her breasts were truly magnificent at that time. The entire surface of her breasts had some black spots, and her areolas and nipples were especially large and dark. Especially after seeing porn, the difference was quite obvious. Moreover, it was her first pregnancy, so her breasts didn't sag at all, but stood upright. So, by pushing her clothes forward, the two gaps under her armpits became even larger, which was very convenient for me. That summer, basically, looking at her two big breasts became my daily routine.

Let me tell you about watching her shower.

I still peeked through the peephole in the door. I won't go into the details, but I'll describe what I saw. Watching B shower yielded far more than watching A. Leaving aside her upper body, B had much less pubic hair on her lower body, only above her clitoris, and practically nothing below. Of course, I'm referring to the clitoris now; back then, peeking wouldn't have revealed it. So, from the front, only a peach-sized patch covered her pubic hair at the very top, and nothing below that. I don't know if she shaved it or if it hadn't grown back.

This meant that even when she was standing with her legs together, I could still see her labia and other parts below that patch of pubic hair. Of course, I couldn't separate the parts, but it was still the fleshy part of her vulva, unlike A, where all I saw was a clump of hair. Also, B was fuller, so her vulva had more flesh, protruding more noticeably; no wonder it looked so bulging when I saw her exposed.

My most important memory of B is that I learned to masturbate through her clothes.

B was relatively young, and time was passing. Compared to A's underwear, B's was much more alluring. Her bras were usually thin, with mesh on the upper part and lace around the edges. Her panties were also partly made of sheer fabric, with narrower and smaller straps in the front. So, I often targeted them.

At first, I didn't know how to masturbate. Back then, when no one was looking, I would take off her underwear, usually wet and not yet dry. I would use it as a wet towel to wipe my groin, buttocks, and sometimes even my anus—basically, to leave my mark on her underwear. A few times, I would take her clothes shortly after she hung them out to dry. I would urinate on her clothes and then take them to hang up to dry, haha, like they had been washed with my urine.

Then, one day, a new chapter began.

It was a summer afternoon, and I secretly took two pieces of B's underwear to my room, ready to start my mark-leaking operation again. I started by wiping my groin a few times with it, and then my penis started to get hard.

As I mentioned before, it's been several years, but my penis still gets hard when I'm sexually aroused. After my penis got hard, I noticed some dirt in the circular groove at the base of the glans. Hmm, it probably hadn't been cleaned in a long time. I decided to remove this dirt and put it on my underwear, killing two birds with one stone.

I wrapped my glans with her underwear and used it to clean the dirt like a towel. After a few minutes, I suddenly felt a tingling and numb sensation near the glans, and I knew I was about to ejaculate. Although I didn't know how to masturbate at that time, I had started to experience nocturnal emissions, so I still remembered the feeling before ejaculation. Finally, a thick stream of hot semen spurted out, and I quickly caught it with B's underwear. At that moment, I thought, so this is what masturbation is like. Before, my penis would get hard, and I had ejaculated before; now, I could finally do both things together.

I took the semen-stained underwear to the washroom to wash it and hung it out to dry again.

Later, I often used those underwear to help me masturbate. Sometimes I would wash the underwear clean and put it back where it was. But sometimes, I would wet the semen-stained underwear with water, rub it a little, and then put it back. That way, it was as if I had washed her underwear with my semen, and when she wore it next time, haha, she would have intimate contact with my offspring.

After learning how to masturbate, my "sex life" became more diverse.

Before, I would often sneak in when B was napping, but I would only take out my penis and shake it a few times, or gently touch her buttocks. Now it's different. When I stand in front of her bed again, looking at the sleeping B, and take out my penis, it's no longer a simple meeting, but a passionate piston-like motion with my hand. When I'm about to ejaculate, I usually squat down and ejaculate on the floor under the bed. It's harder to notice here.

Later, I discovered that B's sister sometimes comes to nap too, oh, that's great. However, they usually slept in two separate rooms, so I had to tiptoe between them, eventually ejaculating next to someone. Finally, one day, the two sisters slept in the same bed, twin beauties. I ejaculated happily in front of them.

This blissful life lasted for several years. As I grew older, I became more timid. After all, targeting neighbors is like walking along the riverbank; you're bound to get your shoes wet. Getting caught is different at 14 or 15 than at 18 or 19. So I did it less and less.

(III) The bus

The first two sections were about things with acquaintances. The so-called vast world offers great opportunities. More often, the targets are in society, although not as deep as with acquaintances, but there are more opportunities to try and experience. For me, the better opportunities were on the bus. Because when I was in junior high and high school, I took the bus to school every day. At that time, public transportation was not as developed as it is now, and it was very crowded, which was convenient for me.

At first, I didn't know and dared not make any physical advances. Even when I was squeezed next to a woman, I was careful not to touch her. What a waste of a good opportunity! Looking back, I really regret it. Back then, I just glanced at pretty women. The train is a great place to look at beautiful women. There are many people, you're close, and the journey is long. Gradually, I started paying attention to specific parts of their bodies: breasts, thighs. I looked for any accidental exposure or exposed skin. I started by looking at their breasts.

Of course, looking at breasts doesn't mean looking at the outline shown under their clothes, but rather seeing their skin or bra. Although those tight-fitting tank tops look like they reveal curves, because they are elastic, they usually cling to the body, which is not conducive to my purpose.

I like sleeveless clothes, with a fabric that doesn't drape too much, and importantly, the opening under the armpits should be relatively large, especially at the bottom. This way, because the opening is large and the fabric around the edges has a certain stiffness, it naturally forms a loose circle around the body. As long as you pay attention and have a good angle, you can get something out of it. If she raises her hand to hold the armrest, that's perfect.

I usually choose a slightly back side position, where I can usually see the side or upper part of the bra. If the bra is made of thin material, has cutouts, or is small, then the skin on the sides of the breasts can be seen.

This assumes both people are standing. If she's sitting and I'm standing next to her, I'll definitely start from her neckline. The conditions are similar, but because women are usually more careful in this situation, I haven't had any particularly memorable experiences with this.

Another scenario is that I'm sitting and she's standing. If she's facing slightly forward and at an angle, I can also peek through the gap between her blouse and top. However, in this case, the gap is usually very small, and you can't see much. But that's the pleasure of voyeurism. Although in summer, women's clothing is thin, and you can often see the shape and even the color of a bra through the fabric, seeing even a tiny bit through the gap between the clothing and skin is very satisfying.

A couple of days ago, I was on my way home by bus. And then, I had a moment of pure bliss. The woman was wearing a white shirt, and looked like a saleswoman leaving work. She was standing right in front of me, and because of the crowd, she had to face the window and bend slightly. That's when my chance came. The two sides of her shirt were parted between the second and third buttons, creating a gap about an inch long and half an inch wide, right in front of her chest.

Through that gap, I could see she was wearing a pink bra, a light pink, the kind that's most likely to arouse. And the top of her bra cups was rather low and flat. I suspected it was an oval shape. So, not only could I see the bra, but I could also see part of the skin above her breasts. How lucky!

Speaking of breasts, there's one woman I have to mention. I first saw her on the bus. There weren't many people around, and I was about a meter away from her. I was just casually looking around, but when I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off her. The sleeveless cuffs of her dress were just too exaggerated. The exposed fabric at the bottom was a good three inches long; it was obvious the dress was homemade—so careless. It was cool, but unfortunately, someone else got to enjoy it.

This was such a great opportunity! I only tilted my head slightly and saw her bra. It seemed quite conservative. White, with wide side panels. Taking advantage of the car's bumps, I leaned back a little and saw her breasts, completely covered by the bra. No wonder she didn't care about her clothes; the inner protection was quite thorough.

Why have I been talking about this somewhat unsuccessful experience for so long? Haha, because later, I actually saw her breasts—completely bare, without any covering. As fate would have it, she turned out to be the daughter of the owner of a bookstore near my house. I didn't know at first, but later I discovered she often looked after the bookstore for her mother so her mother could go home for lunch.

A great opportunity! That summer, I went there every day around 1 pm. Although it was hot, there were fewer people, and she was always there. However, I usually just stole a few glances at her; nothing special. But one day, I got my fill of what I was looking for.

That day, when I arrived, she was minding the stall. Perhaps a lot of books had been returned recently, because she was sorting them and putting them back in their place. I first looked at the books that others had just returned on the counter. She sorted a few, then turned to put them back on the shelf. Because there was a chair between us, she was in a semi-bent-over posture. I was just glancing casually when suddenly something caught my eye. It shocked me. It was one of her breasts! She wasn't wearing a bra! Wow.

It turned out that the dress she was wearing was different from the one I'd seen in the car last time. Actually, the armpit openings were smaller. But because she was leaning over, my gaze, angled from top to bottom, passed through the opening that separated her from her body, revealing her breast.

Her breasts weren't large, the conical kind, and looked quite firm. Perhaps the way they sagged as she leaned over accentuated this. Her skin was quite fair, and the nipple was also quite pale. It was a small, raised nipple. Looking back now, it was probably a virgin's breast. She was young and pretty then. This scene made my heart race and my muscles tense. The breasts of a young woman in the prime of her youth were displayed before me without any covering. Thankfully, no one else was around.

I continued pretending to look at the books on the counter, and she kept putting them back on the shelf after tidying them up. Every time she turned around, I would shift my gaze accordingly. I watched this intermittently several times until she finished tidying up the books, and I had to go to the shelf next to her to find something. But that scene occupied my entire mind, and I just borrowed a book and left.

Later, that kind of good thing never happened again; maybe she wasn't wearing a bra that day and it was just a momentary lapse of attention. Later still, the bookstore moved away. She was the only woman whose breasts I ever saw, besides peeping at my neighbor.

Now, let's talk about my first intimate encounter. That time, I was passive. I was in junior high school then. One afternoon, I was walking home. The bus was crowded. There was a young woman in front of me. When I ride the bus, I always carry my backpack by hand, letting it hang down naturally. Because when it's crowded, carrying the backpack on my back is very inconvenient. So, I held onto the handrail with one hand, and with the other hand holding the backpack hanging down, it was right at her hip. At first, I subconsciously tried not to touch her.

Suddenly, she bent down to pick something up, causing her hip to thrust backward. I had nowhere to go, and my backpack hand was pressed against her hip, but she didn't seem to mind, continuing to grope around on the floor. It suddenly dawned on me that in a crowded bus, this kind of contact was considered acceptable.

When she straightened up, instead of backing away as before, I subtly moved forward a little. As the bus swayed, my hand repeatedly touched her hip and then separated. That time, I didn't even care what her hip felt like. My mind was filled with the thought that I had touched a young woman's buttocks, but nothing happened—how wonderful! My

backpack hand was originally clenched into a fist. Slowly, I held the bag with only my thumb and forefinger, extending the other three fingers, so that not only the back of my palm, but almost the entire back of my hand was pressed against her buttocks. Time seemed to fly by; soon I had to get off the bus, and my first intimate encounter was over. However, this also marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

Soon, I decided to take the initiative. At that time, I was using a student monthly pass, so the fare wasn't a problem. One Sunday afternoon, I made my move. I changed buses several times, but found no good opportunities, perhaps due to inexperience or shyness. It was getting late, and I was ready to give up and wait for another time.

But fate intervened; on the last bus home, my chance came. The bus was crowded, and after boarding, I quickly glanced around and saw a pretty girl. I slowly squeezed behind her and stopped. But then I realized that her boyfriend was right next to her. No way! Oh well, I'll just stand here. Anyway, I'm almost home; even if I can't touch her, looking at a pretty girl is fine too.

But with the intention of showing off my skills today, and a beautiful woman in front of me, the impulse was simply uncontrollable. As they say, lust knows no bounds. Let's do it. I adjusted my position, standing on the side furthest from her boyfriend, half my body overlapping with hers, so that one of my arms was right behind her.

I slowly moved my hand forward, touching her buttocks, then pulled it away. It was as if it had been an accidental touch due to the car's swaying. I touched her a few more times like this, thankfully, she didn't react in any particular way, nor did she move her position. Okay. I placed the entire back of my hand on her buttocks, the half closest to me. Then I left it there, motionless.

It was probably spring or autumn then, and she wasn't wearing many clothes. She was wearing a pair of very ordinary, thin, stirrup-style leggings. Therefore, I could feel the softness and elasticity of her buttocks, and that delicate sensation. I don't know if she thought it was just a normal, unintentional touch, or if she was just embarrassed, but I saw no unusual behavior from her.

I pressed my advantage, moving the back of my hand towards the middle of her buttocks. My middle finger rested precisely on the cleft of her buttocks. Then I curled my middle finger, letting it sink into that warm and mysterious crevice. I think she must have realized it was intentional, but she still didn't say anything, only that she was embarrassed. Haha, that made things easier for me. But I didn't dare to push it any further, after all, her boyfriend was next to me.

So, my middle finger was embedded in her buttocks, while the back of my hand pressed against her plump bottom, enjoying myself comfortably until they got off the bus. It lasted for more than ten minutes. It was definitely worth the trip. After I got off the bus, I felt a little scared. After all, it was my first time, and I went too far. Actually, most of my experiences afterward weren't as deep as this one. So, I remember it very clearly.

This attack heralded the arrival of my era of finding fun on public buses. Of course, I wouldn't do it on every bus; I usually only considered women who were decent-looking. There also had to be suitable conditions, so even if I had a satisfactory target, it wouldn't necessarily work out. The most common situations are as follows.

I stand behind or beside a woman. As I described earlier, I use my hanging hand to feel her buttocks or thighs. Or, if the conditions are good, I can use my penis to press against her buttocks; of course, the season is important, and you can't wear too many clothes. If you're bold, you can unzip your pants, take out your penis, and make more intimate contact.

If I'm standing in front of someone, then I have a different target—breasts. I shift my position slightly so that the woman is behind me, slightly to the side. Then I use my elbow to touch her breasts. Besides using my entire body to press against her breasts, I also pretend to carry a bag. This way, my elbow bends and hits her breasts.

When I'm sitting, I'm not idle either. First, I can touch the thighs of the person sitting next to me. At first, keep the thighs touching and then away. First, place your hand on your own thigh, then slowly slide it down between the two thighs. Then move your thigh to the side until the two thighs are pressed tightly together, so your palm naturally rests on the woman's thigh. If you feel there's a possibility of going further, you can reach your palm downwards until it rests on the woman's thigh, at which point her thigh is essentially pressing against your hand.

Sometimes, you can also move upwards. If there aren't many people in the carriage and others aren't paying attention, I'll place my palm on top of her thigh. This way, with my palm against her thigh, the sensitivity of touch is greatly enhanced. I can carefully feel and experience her thigh. If I have a backpack, I'll place it on my lap to block others' view.

I remember once, when I was in my first year of high school, I went to catch the bus around 6 a.m. There weren't many people on the bus, and I sat on a long bench at the back. To my right was a girl. She seemed a little older than me, with a mature figure and very pretty.

At first, there was no one in front of us, so I did what I mentioned before, placing my palm on her left thigh, using my backpack as cover. Seeing that she didn't react, I decided to move. Actually, even though I said I was looking, I didn't dare turn my head to look at her face. I just felt that she neither moved her leg away nor tried to stop me.

I gently raised my palm slightly, but still kept it in contact, and slowly moved it back and forth. Now I was essentially caressing her thigh, the kind of feeling a young girl has—warm, elastic, and slightly trembling. I didn't know if it was my nervousness or hers. Maybe we were both nervous.

Slowly, I added a little more pressure, pressing my palm harder on her thigh, and continued caressing her back and forth. After two stops, more people appeared, and a woman in her thirties stood in front of us, about a meter away. At this point, my backpack came in handy, blocking her view. I was able to continue enjoying myself. Later, I noticed that the woman would occasionally glance in our direction; perhaps she had noticed something was amiss. However, since the girl didn't react, she probably decided not to meddle.

Unfortunately, after two more stops, the girl got off the bus. As she waited by the bus door, looking at her curvaceous figure and pretty face, I felt even more that this opportunity was truly rare, something you could only dream of. After she got off the bus, I looked back a few times, still reluctant to leave. Actually, later on, to avoid running into my classmates, I rarely made advances towards girls around my age on my way to school.

Sitting in my seat, I could touch the thighs of the women standing next to me. If there were many people, and the woman was squeezed next to me, that was easy, almost the same as touching the woman sitting next to me. If there weren't many people, and I had a particularly appealing target, then I had to take the initiative.

I usually did this: I would put my hands on my knees, then sit with my back slightly turned to the window, so that my knees would be in the aisle next to the seat. The goal, of course, was to stay near the target's thighs, and then look for an opportunity. First, I would touch them, then move away, and after a few times, I would stick close and not let go. However, in this situation, because there weren't many people, and my hand movements were far from my body, there was no concealment, so I usually acted on the bus home at night, when there were no lights.

The above all talked about hands; now let's talk about something less common—touching breasts with your head. This only comes into play when you're sitting. When it's crowded, people standing close to each other often find their upper bodies leaning forward because their lower bodies are blocked by the seats while their upper bodies have space above the heads of seated people. If the woman is standing, there's a chance to touch her breasts with your head.

Usually, they're very careful, trying to use their hands to support themselves and not lean forward too much, especially being careful not to let their breasts touch anyone. But sometimes, whether it's because they're not strong enough or they feel it doesn't matter in this situation, some women will still squeeze their breasts right next to my head.

It's best in the summer. Then there are fewer clothes, and they're thinner. I like wearing cotton t-shirts, and it's best if the woman is a little plump; then, touching them really feels like a tidal wave. In this situation, I straighten my neck, even tilting it slightly outward, anticipating the collision with those big breasts. Of course, if the woman isn't satisfying, I'll still turn my head towards the window to avoid it.

Here are a few memorable things. Let me start with something very pleasant. Back then, buses were divided into two sections, connected by a turntable. There were railings on either side of the turntable, topped with a canvas canopy for rain protection. That time, after I boarded the bus, I walked to the turntable and noticed a beautiful woman in her early twenties near the railing. Taking advantage of the crowd boarding at the next stop, I squeezed next to her.

When standing close to the railing, you usually have to face away from it, or face the dusty canvas canopy. As the bus got more and more crowded, the turntable area became increasingly cramped. Haha, I started to make my move.

At first, I did what I usually did: touched her thigh with the hand that held my backpack. Since we were basically parallel, normally I would just touch her thigh. But that day, for some reason, I was in a very good mood. After touching her thigh a few times, I put my hand behind my own leg. Because she was leaning against the railing, her legs weren't pressed tightly against it, but rather leaning at an angle, creating a gap. She was the same.

Then I moved my hand sideways to the gap under her legs, and pulled upwards, so now her entire buttocks were pressed against my hand. And no one could see it. Haha, now it's perfect. I can savor it properly.

She struggled a few times, seemingly trying to escape my clutches. Unfortunately, there were too many people, and she couldn't break free at all. Seeing her struggle, I turned to look at her. She was also looking at me. Her face showed a shy expression, a little unhappy, and somewhat evasive. She seemed to be the shy type. Okay, let's take a gamble. I looked at her expressionlessly, as if I didn't know what was happening, then turned my head back, but my hand didn't stop.

When I was about to get off the bus, I suddenly reached my hand to her other side, as if grabbing her buttocks, and then pulled it back. Of course, it was just a quick movement. Others probably thought she had accidentally tripped over my backpack. I don't know if it was all my initiative.

As I walked past her, she disdainfully turned her head away. Hmph, I pretended not to see her and moved to the car door. Anyway, I got the better deal. Actually, after my hand was pressed down by her buttocks, it was too tight, making it difficult to move my hand around. However, her expression and behavior gave me a greater sense of accomplishment, so I was quite pleased. However,

pushing your luck too far always leads to trouble. One evening, I was sitting in the last row next to a woman around 30 years old. At first, I just touched her thigh, and then slowly moved to her buttocks. Actually, at that time, it was only the edge of her buttocks. Unexpectedly, she lifted the leg closest to me and placed it on top of the other leg. In this way, half of her buttocks was lifted off the seat, and thus away from my hand. It was probably a kind of voluntary release.

That day, I don't know why, but I had a moment of impulse. You lifted your buttocks, fine, I'll keep reaching in. Her body leaned more and more, the gap under her buttocks got bigger and bigger, and my hand went in deeper and deeper.

Suddenly, she started cursing. She didn't directly accuse someone of harassing her. She just vented her anger like a shrew. A woman in her thirties, when she cursed, it was unbelievable. She didn't repeat herself in several sentences. Everyone on the bus turned to look at her, and at me. People could definitely tell that someone had done something to her. But they didn't know if it was touching or picking her pocket.

I could only stare blankly ahead, as if no one was around. The people on the bus watched her curse alone, and no one said a word, so they slowly turned their heads back. I finally escaped a disaster. Later, I thought, maybe her buttocks were raised too high, and when I put my hand in, I might have touched her genitals, which crossed her line, so she exploded. However, I really didn't know what her genitals felt like. Sigh, I lost out this time. I should be more careful next time. Now,

let me tell you something happier. It was quite exciting. That time, I was sitting in my seat, and next to me stood a so-called office lady. She was wearing a business suit and a knee-length skirt. Because it was crowded and packed, I easily placed my hand on her thigh, slightly above her knee.

I left it there for a moment, and seeing she didn't react, I moved my hand up her thigh a little. It was already inside her skirt. I felt a surge of excitement. Pretending to look behind me, I glanced up as I turned my head. Yes, she stood there expressionless, looking out the window as if nothing was wrong. Perfect, if you're alright, what do I have to fear?

Originally, since she was facing me at a 90-degree angle, my hand, which was at my side, was facing her leg. I slowly began to turn my wrist upwards to a 90-degree angle, so that it made contact with the inside of her thigh. At the same time, my palm became the point of contact, making the sensation more sensitive. The upward movement of my hand didn't stop. Finally, it stopped at the middle of her thigh.

Because my upper arm had been close to my body, with my forearm making the movements, if I wanted to move further upwards, my upper arm would have to leave my body, which would require a larger range of motion. Moreover, we were already quite far in, and learning from past mistakes, I didn't want to cross the line again.

My hand hovered there, and the feeling was noticeably different. The skin on the front of her thigh, just above her knee, was very dense, giving it a firm and upright appearance; my hand moved along it without feeling any resistance. But on the inner side of her thigh, the skin was noticeably thinner, more delicate, and slightly looser; my hand felt noticeably sluggish when moving along it. At the same time, I felt a warmth. Could it be the warmth emanating from that office lady's genitals? Or maybe it was just my own nervous heat.

Just then, the bus got stuck in traffic. Haha, a golden opportunity! I was reluctant to take my hand out. Her leg was slightly twisting, trying to get rid of my hand. Unfortunately, such a slight movement was definitely not enough.

Later, after being stuck in traffic for a long time, the driver, unable to bear everyone's demands, opened the door and let everyone take care of themselves. When getting off the bus, I squeezed behind her again. Just as I put my hand on her buttocks, she suddenly turned around and said, "Why are you pushing? Hmm, why are you angry now? What was I doing just now?" I think right now it's just a minor touch on the butt, and nobody cares if people find out. Just now, I even put my hand inside her skirt. If everyone knew, she'd be so embarrassed. Sigh, so obsessed with saving face. Next time, what if she doesn't yell and someone touches her underwear?

Another time, I was standing behind a girl. First, I touched the edge of her buttocks. Then I gradually moved towards the center. Suddenly, I realized that where there should usually be underwear, there was no feeling at all. Until the middle of her buttocks, the entire buttocks were smooth. Since she was only wearing a thin, floral-dyed skirt, it was basically like touching her buttocks directly. Whether she wasn't wearing underwear or something like a thong, I don't know.

Now, I touch people on public transport much less often. I usually only pay attention to situations where there's no risk, like someone accidentally exposing themselves. I take the bus less often now, and public transport has improved; it's not as crowded as it used to be. Besides, there's been so much talk about sexual harassment in recent years. This made everyone more alert, and the women dared to fight back, no longer as shy, conservative, and submissive as before. When I started, neither the harassers nor the harassed knew such a thing existed, so I was ahead of my time again. Haha.

This article is good for young boys to learn from, and for young girls to use for self-defense. ^_^

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