Quietly telling our story 2 - First Love

When I met her, she seemed so beautiful. We sat in front of and behind each other, kissing and hugging in the hallway after class. During class, we would quickly kiss while the teacher wrote on the blackboard until the teacher turned around. After school, when no one was around, I would caress her body and kiss her. She was my first love, my first kiss, my first time. But I knew she didn't belong to me; she liked both me and someone else. We spent our happy and simple middle school days together. Then one time, because of a choice we made, we broke up completely. The heartache was indescribable. She cried her eyes out, and I didn't comfort her, I just held her. Ironically, even after the breakup, we would still hold hands occasionally after class and sometimes kiss. I vaguely remember that year's Qixi Festival (Chinese Valentine's Day). She asked me what gift I wanted, and I said I wanted her. So we went into a small hotel. I took off her clothes, and her perfect figure—166cm, 100kg, C-cup—was revealed before me. To be honest, it was difficult to penetrate her the first time. It was our first time, and there wasn't much pleasure. I didn't ejaculate after a few thrusts, and there was a faint trace of blood when I pulled out. We packed up quickly and went back to school, since it was skipping class. We never did it again. Those innocent feelings will never be forgotten. The naive days of being 17.

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Quietly telling our story 2 - First Love

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