Engineering Mathematics

A while ago (it's been over a year), I suddenly had the idea to improve my English.

After doing some research, I enrolled in the language center at National Taiwan University (I think it's called LTTC). I found

a time when it was convenient for me and went every week. The teacher was a foreigner.
The result? After the first class, I went to a hotel with him and we had a crazy sex session…
haha… if you really think that, then it really sounds like an adult film plot. It wasn't

like !
My conversations with the teacher were always limited to the classroom, nothing else. And my English really did improve.
I don't like wearing business suits to class, so if possible, I'll go home and change.

Subconsciously, I tend to dress more casually and simply: a t-shirt, spaghetti straps, a plaid skirt, and casual

shoes or sneakers. This makes me feel more like a student in class!
After about three or four classes, since there were opportunities for discussion and conversation in each class, the students all got

to know each other.
Jonathan (it's a hassle to type his name, and we all call him Johnny) is

a university student, a top student in the so-called "STEM" department. He's not the kind of

handsome guy who immediately catches the eye, but he has a neat overall look, and his slightly messy hair doesn't make him unpleasant. He's very sunny and likes to

tell jokes, which actually makes him more approachable. At first, I didn't pay much attention to him, until the day after the third or fourth class. After class, he walked alongside me ,
perhaps intentionally, and we chatted naturally as we left the language center. It was a summer night, and I naturally didn't refuse his suggestion to get some ice cream. 　　"Where should we get some ice cream?" I asked him. 　　"Well... it's a bit far from here, but it's really good ice cream! Otherwise, I'll give you a ride on my bicycle, or we'll have to walk... how about that?" 　　I couldn't quite imagine being given a ride on a bicycle. But curiosity made me agree. 　　I stood on the bicycle (oh dear, I can't describe it well, can someone from NTU explain?), 　　holding onto his shoulders, and he took me to the main gate. He stopped the bike, and we crossed the street to an ice cream shop to sit and eat ice cream. 　　The walk only took a few minutes, but it was very interesting; I had never been carried on a bicycle like that before. If it weren't for the many similar scenes on campus, I would have imagined a more romantic scenario. 　　We ate ice cream and chatted casually. He talked about his studies, dormitory, and clubs, and I casually responded to the conversation . 　　When he talked about his dormitory, he kept emphasizing how terrifying the boys' dormitory was. 　　"Do you want to come and see? Although I'm afraid the level of filth will scare you to death," he suddenly asked. 　　"Then why are you taking me there?!" I said, thinking to myself, wouldn't it be weird for someone I don't know well to invite me to his dormitory? 　　"To show you what the dormitory of the top university in the country is like," he grinned. 　　"I don't want to see it at all," I retorted. 　　That ice cream experience was great; it made me feel like I was back in the simplicity of my student days. Naturally, his suggestion to get ice cream after class the following week also came true. 　　The same ice cream shop, surrounded by a noisy group of students—I felt like a student too. 　　It almost became a tacit understanding; after class, the two of us would go for ice cream. About two or three weeks later, this time he suggested skipping ice cream and going for coffee. We went to a coffee shop, ordered coffee and snacks, and chatted happily. 　　Somehow, the topic turned to relationships. He talked about his two ex-girlfriends, his current emotional vacuum, his reluctance to take responsibility, and skillfully asked if I had a boyfriend. 　　"No," I said, deliberately avoiding mentioning that I was already married. 　　"You must have had girlfriends before, right? It's impossible not to." He still wanted to get to the bottom of it. 　　"Yes," I replied casually, thinking to myself: If you knew my story, you'd be horrified! 　　Somehow, the topic continued, and he started talking about sex: first, probing about my experience, then he began discussing less obvious things; I followed his lead, and so our conversation deepened. 　　I asked him if he'd do it in the dorm. He said having roommates made it inconvenient to deal with their issues, so those with cars would use them as makeshift beds, while those without might go to hotels. 　　As I listened, I thought he'd be horrified if he knew how many times I'd been to hotels. I remembered a Taiwanese film starring Shu Qi, about a romance between male and female students, but the male student later discovered Shu Qi's real life. 　　I felt a strange mix of amusement and disbelief. 　　After coffee, he drove me home. 　　At my doorstep, we said goodnight, and he left with a sunny smile before riding his motorcycle home. 　　The next evening, I didn't have class. Around 9 PM, I was home alone when I suddenly received a call from him. 　　"Hey, Johnny, what's up?" 　　"Sandrea, open the window and look out towards XX Road," he said. 　　I opened the window as instructed. He stood at my door, holding his phone in one hand and a drink in the other. 　　"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised. 　　He smiled, looked up at me, and said on his phone, "No matter how busy I am, I'll still have to grab a coffee with you." 　　I laughed, and said irritably, "You weirdo, do you want to come up for a bit?" 　　He came into my house. 　　I was dressed casually, having just showered, wearing a spaghetti strap top and shorts... He was wearing a regular t- shirt and capri pants. 　　Sure enough, he came in carrying two cans of coffee. 　　"Why did you suddenly come here like a lunatic?" I asked. 　　"After dance practice at the club, I noticed a girl in the club who looks a lot like you, so I thought of you," 　　he said with a grin. 　　We continued chatting casually. 　　I didn't drink the coffee; partly because I don't usually drink coffee at night, and partly because I'm quite sensitive about it , always worrying about whether it contains drugs or something. But he really didn't seem like a bad person. 　　We continued chatting, and I casually flipped through the channels, watching TV. 　　Around ten o'clock, he got up to leave, and I didn't pay much attention, but after he stood up...

He continued chatting with me, but it was even more pointless.
A while later, I realized he was looking down at my cleavage!
"Hey, caught you looking down! Where are you looking?" I said, feigning anger.
"I can't help it, it's too bright. I get pricked when I stand up, so I have to keep looking," he said,

spouting .
"Let's go," I said, standing up and half-jokingly pushing him.
After that, he asked me out more often, to movies, coffee. We maintained this ambiguous relationship for several

weeks , and I actually felt quite good about him. I liked his sunny and cheerful personality, and his straightforward yet practical

attitude.
That day, after class, he suggested a walk on the National Taiwan University campus.
He led me to the lakeside, and we chatted as we walked. Without realizing it, he took my hand;

it felt like the innocent romance of high school.
Neither of us said anything, and we continued chatting.
He led me further and further into a secluded area, finally to the back of an old building. We stopped against the wall.

He turned to face me, gazing into my eyes. In the silence, he suddenly kissed my

lips.
I didn't resist the moonlight, the silence, the seclusion, the atmosphere.
We kissed, our exploration turning into passion, our bodies beginning to caress each other.
We kissed for a long time before stopping.
He grabbed my hand and led me quickly to what he called his department building.
He swiped his card to go inside.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"My senior has a research lab, I have the key..." he whispered.
He led me to a small room, quite clean, with some research equipment. But

we didn't care about anything else. He locked the door, and we began to kiss wildly again. He started

taking off his clothes, then reached for mine. My t-shirt was off,

and his hands eagerly touched my breasts.
"My God, anything bigger than a C-cup is uncharted territory," he murmured.
I laughed.
He continued, "God, why are you doing this to me? What if I can't touch you anymore?"
I laughed more, but the laughter was quickly drowned out by excitement and began to turn into moans.
His hands kept kneading my breasts; I leaned against the wall, panting; his hands caressed me as he

slowly unhooked my bra; then, he slowly pulled down my panties.
He kissed my lips again, one hand still wantonly ravaging my breasts, the other hand moving down to the tender flesh of my

thighs and buttocks, touching every inch of my skin before reaching between my legs to my genitals.
"Ah..." I gasped softly.
He easily discovered my wet genitals! He teased me, continuing the French kiss.
He stopped the French kiss, adjusted the angle, and wrapped his arms around my waist; I insisted that he put on a condom;
he aimed again and inserted it into my vagina!
I cried out.
"Keep it down," he whispered in my ear.
I tried to suppress my moans. But he continued to thrust relentlessly!
My back was against the wall, and he gripped my buttocks with both hands, thrusting forcefully. "Sandrea, do you like it?" he asked in English
, for some reason . 　　"Ah... I like..." I gasped, trying to keep my voice down as I moaned; the of being caught only heightened the excitement! 　　He thrust in and out at a rhythmic pace, seemingly tireless, his hands tightening around my buttocks, making each impact more intense. 　　He didn't speak, just groaned, thrusting forcefully; I tried not to cry out, but the excitement kept building. 　　He pressed his head against my shoulder, his lower body still pumping harder; my hands gripped his back, trying to withstand each powerful thrust. 　　"Ah... ah... I can't take it anymore..." I cried out in a daze. 　　He didn't speak, just thrust even harder, the same speed, but with even greater force! 　　Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and reached orgasm! 　　I clenched his back muscles, my hair whipping wildly, unable to scream, only gasping for breath. 　　He slowed down too. 　　After I recovered slightly, he pretended to turn me around, adjusted the angle, pulled my hands back, and penetrated me from behind. He thrust slowly a few times, then at the previous pace, rhythmically thrusting. He remained silent, leaving me alone with moans and groans. 　　"Johnny... ah... I'm going to die... ah... ah..." 　　"Gently... ah... don't be so rough... ah... ah..." 　　He slowly guided my hands to lean against the wall, while his hands grabbed my breasts, squeezing and kneading them relentlessly. 　　"Oh... so big... so soft... oh..." he murmured. 　　"Ah... no... I can't take it anymore..." I cried out in a daze. 　　He finally increased his speed, becoming more and more forceful, his hands gripping more irregularly. 　　Suddenly, "Sandrea... ah..." 　　he ejaculated! He gripped my breasts tightly with both hands. 　　We remained in that position, slowly relaxing until we were both sprawled against the wall. 　　"Why did you take so long? My bones are about to fall apart," I complained coquettishly, my whole body limp. 　　In fact, he really did last longer than most people, which was completely unlike my stereotype of students. I originally thought that the more you studied or worked, the less capable you would be in bed. However, Johnny really surprised me, and left me exhausted! 　　"Hehe, today's performance was only average, you could last longer," he laughed. 　　"Stop being so cocky," I slapped him. 　　"Do you know the secret? I think of engineering math formulas while I'm penetrating, so I can go on for as long as I want, it works even better than Viagra..." he told me like he was showing off a treasure. 　　"Hmph, still being cocky," I retorted, "I don't need..." 　　We got ready to go back.

Honestly, I hate not showering immediately after sex. But there was nothing I could do; I

went home feeling like my body was about to fall apart.
[The End
]

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