That early summer we met, but fate intervened and we missed our chance. This is dedicated to the memory.

I've actually been wanting to write this story for a while now, a story I cherish deeply!

One early summer day, in a QQ group—I rarely speak in QQ groups, just occasionally exchanging a few words—a woman from Wuxi added me. She said, "Isn't there a couple from Suzhou there?" I replied, "I wouldn't add someone I don't know well." So I added her and we started chatting. It turned out she was a married woman from Wuxi, recently had a baby. Her marriage was good, but her husband seemed uninterested in sex, and she was always just going through the motions. She said that if she continued to experience sexual climax, she would seriously question the beauty of sex as perceived by others. We chatted on and off, and finally one day, I said I was coming to see her, and she should wait for me. She said, "I don't want anything to happen on our first meeting." I told her I just wanted to see her and talk about our stories. I set off, finished my business in Suzhou, and was about to head to Wuxi when I was hit by a car. After dealing with the aftermath, I could only tell her on QQ that I couldn't come. Unfortunately, this was also the reason I pushed her.

A few days later, on the weekend, she went to another city on a business trip and wanted to see me, and I wanted to see her too. She only had two hours, so she had to leave immediately. Her phone was dead and had been switched off. When she arrived in Wuxi, I went straight to a room to wait for her. About ten minutes later, through the hotel window, I saw a woman exuding an artistic aura looking around. It was her; I knew it at a glance, even though we hadn't seen each other's photos. My intuition told me it was her. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and saw her. I told her that the person I saw through the window was the one. She was about 163cm tall, slightly plump, with typical features and figure of a northern woman. She was dressed in ethnic style, lacking in fashion, but still a breath of fresh air. I put her bag on the sofa and we sat on the bed together. Actually, I understood her quite well; I knew she would be very embarrassed and shy. Slowly, I put my arm around her shoulder, and she turned to me. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. I knew that women appreciate men starting with the forehead; it makes them treat you more gently. Then, little by little, we began to kiss passionately, pushing each other down in a passionate kiss. I noticed her face was hot; I knew it was mostly shyness, but the passionate atmosphere at that moment had rendered shyness ineffective. She slowly removed her already thin coat. While kissing me, she told me that I was the second man she had ever kissed. Just as my hand was moving downwards, she suddenly grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear, "I'm going to wash up first! I'll wait for you." She also told me not to peek. Haha, I was going to peek anyway, so I secretly opened the bathroom door a crack and saw her squatting on the floor washing her genitals. I knew she didn't want to use the hotel shower gel, didn't want any smell other than the shower gel at home. She heard me too, and told me to close the door and leave. Haha, I'll leave. I waited for her in bed. She came out wrapped in a bath towel and immediately slipped under the covers. I was still admiring her from the sofa. This wasn't the time to pretend to be a good man anymore. I rushed onto the bed, ready to go wild. I started kissing her body, gently grasping her full breasts—you know, that's a baby's food source, and they even produce milk. I gently sucked a few times, but alas, my technique wasn't good enough; I couldn't get any milk out. She then expressed some for me herself. I sucked a few times; it was sweet. I told her to save it for the little princess. From her breasts to her navel, and then to that dark forest, I launched my attack on those two protruding little mounds of flesh. Water, so much water, all water. Her vagina was wet, her anus was wet, and the sheets were wet too. I thought my sucking skills were pretty good. She started to writhe involuntarily. She had told me that her man never let her kiss his genitals; he would just give her a few French kisses before thrusting in. After teasing her vagina for a while, I knew she wanted my penis to appear. I took off her panties and started 69, full penetration, no teeth involved. She had said before that she never gave her husband oral sex because he never kissed her genitals either. They only had regular sex, so regular that it was probably just to ejaculate inside her, completing the most primal act of fertilization. And normally, it only happened once a month. But why couldn't her man enjoy such pleasurable oral sex? Why was her oral skill so good? She said she learned it, from Japanese adult videos, because she needed it too, so she would occasionally sneak peeks. She seemed to enjoy the sensation, so I sat up against the headboard, legs spread. She kept sucking on my penis. I knew I should let her experience an orgasm she'd never felt before. She wanted it, so she lay down, spread her legs, and slowly teased her clitoris with my rock-hard penis, stimulating the trickling fluid. She told me that if she wanted me to enter, it couldn't just be a brief stop; it had to be a deep, shallow thrust, letting her experience what sex was, not just fulfilling a woman's only task. I slowly entered, but found her sensation wasn't strong. Perhaps it was because she'd only given birth three months prior (her husband hadn't touched her since). She didn't feel the shallow penetration clearly. At this point, I needed to adjust the angle (I won't explain the specifics; it's based on experience, indescribable). Yes, I heard her voice, a loud voice, the kind of voice men like, the reason men like me don't like electric bicycles. She gripped me tightly, her face contorted, an expression meant to provoke a man's force. I slowed down, changed to a rear-entry position, and sped up, sped up and sped up again. The friction and collision would help her reach orgasm faster, produce more fluid, become more lubricated, and reach orgasm even faster. One, two, three, countless times. I could feel her contractions, hear her moans, and a few sobs. She orgasmed, and I knew I was close too. I continued, and I ejaculated. Even through the condom, she said she could still feel the impact of ejaculation. I'd always thought that men's ejaculation speed would decrease after 30, but this time I experienced it firsthand. Men are all like that; after ejaculating, you're really tired. I lay on the bed, legs apart, and she crawled over, removed the condom, kissed my now-soft penis a few times, then lay under my arm and kissed my cheek. I knew this was perhaps her gratitude after her satisfaction. After a few minutes, she got up to wash, still reminding me not to let her see. Haha, what an interesting woman. After a while, she teased my penis again, and soon it was erect once more. This time, she took the initiative, trying out various positions, from lotus position to doggy style, experiencing them all. She climaxed with moans, ending with my second ejaculation. She said she was satisfied, that she knew what an orgasm was and what it felt like. But then she had to leave, to go home. I knew that this was the worst time to try and stop her. She got dressed and hugged me. Just then, a call came from home. She said she had just gotten off the bus and was taking a taxi home immediately. I could tell she was still reluctant to part with me. I went back home after a while. The next day, I spent the whole day driving to the repair shop, neglecting her QQ and WeChat. It wasn't intentional; I needed the car on Monday, so it had to be fixed. She thought I just wanted to sleep with her, and she got angry, blocking me on QQ and WeChat. I couldn't find her again. A few months later, I added her back on QQ and even went to see her. Nothing happened; we just chatted. I knew I had lost her. Four years have passed, and I still think about her. I know where she is, what she's doing, but I know I can't bother her anymore. We're probably just passersby in each other's lives, stories in one another. Once it's over, it's over, and we can never go back. I know that even if I wish her happiness, she won't see it. It's better to keep my blessings buried in my heart, unwatered, unfertilized, and without letting them sprout. That's best!

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That early summer we met, but fate intervened and we missed our chance. This is dedicated to the memory.

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