We arranged to meet at a café.
I had never done a little date before heading to the room. Maybe it was a habit since our first meeting—I went straight in, got on all fours, lifted, parted, and thrust in.
He was a very beautiful boy. Though he said being called pretty felt odd, he truly was stunning—his brows, nose tip, lips, and jawline all perfectly placed with lovely contours, exactly as in his photos. Most importantly, his skin was flawless.
The moment he arrived, he noticed the line on my phone screen that stays lit because it’s cracked. I love this ability to observe small details, like Sherlock Holmes, always scanning everything around.
We chatted about all sorts of trivial things starting from phones, and discovered our cats look very alike—grumpy personalities and all, even meowing like an old apartment doorbell. So cute.
Walking into that white room, I was glad my companion today was him. It felt like I could finally overwrite those painful memories.
He took off his coat; his body was so attractive that even I, not usually into muscular guys, couldn’t help swallowing. He wrapped his beautifully shaped arms around me and said he wanted to act spoiled with his older sister. I held him and kissed his face—so adorable, like a Labrador puppy, yet somehow so erotic. I got a little wet.
I took off my coat, left only the crotchless lace I had put on at the café, spread my legs, and offered myself to him like a welcome gift.
“So erotic.” He slid a pillow under me to raise my hips, stuck out his tongue, and licked his welcome gift.
I couldn’t help but moan, releasing a bit of erotic energy with it. I felt so hot, so swollen, so wet—everything blooming open.
Then suddenly, I was filled.
Not the exaggerated kind of description meant to please a man—this wasn’t just being filled, it was being stuffed full, stretched open, the kind of filling and fullness where after pulling out, the muscle elasticity hasn’t had time to return to its original position.
“You’re so good.” I kissed him as he kept thrusting hard, while I struggled to pull my fading consciousness back. Impossible, impossible that every stroke hit the spot—it was almost too much, yet we had only just begun.
Crotchless lace has its purpose.
Its design pushes the two lips outward while pressing them together in the middle—not only visually crossing the line, but the sensation… you’d have to ask the one entering to truly understand.
“Where can I?” “Wherever you like.”
He wanted to finish on my chest, but after holding back for five days the parabolic arc went beyond bounds, shooting far forward. In the end, my neck hollow and every dip while lying down became little Lake Jiaming. He smiled at me, panting.
We didn’t walk into the bathroom together, which actually made me feel at ease. A short moment alone in the bathroom is the best time to settle and savor.
Afterward we just lay there, imitating cats barking like dogs, laughing and laughing until time ran out.
We walked out together, entered the corner of that alley, lit cigarettes, and chatted about smoking and the weather. In the end, I let myself modularize this person with the previous one’s schedule, so the memories could be properly overwritten.
It was all happiness, whether this or that, now or before—all blended nicely together. Like a delicious mixed drink, a thirst-quenching beverage made by delicious boys.
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