Time: June 9, 2000, evening.
Location: A chat room
“Fang, will you do me a favor?” In the chat room, a strange name suddenly opened a small window with me and said.
“Roses after the rain”? Sounds like a chick in a bad mood.
“Well, you tell me.” I’ve never been a pushover with women, even female NICK.
“Can you have dinner with me?”
Her advice sounded good to me, but I still had to figure out if it was a prank or not, after all, it was on a channel I was familiar with.
“A rose after the rain, that sounds like a good request! But shouldn’t you at least tell me who you are?”
“… I’m a girl, not an ugly girl.” After a moment of silence, she surprisingly answered that way.
Surprisingly, if she had said she was a pretty girl, maybe I would have turned away, I’ve seen a lot of pranks like that, but there was something about this beauty that attracted me.
“Want to eat something? You say? I say?” Instead of being a mother-in-law, I’d do as I was told, and anyway, there was nothing scheduled for this weekend night.
“You’re so quick, I wasn’t wrong about you. Say what you want to eat, I just want someone to eat with me.”
Why does that sound so strange? Is she right about me? Does she know me? No, this I have to ask.
“WHO, YOU, do you know me? I can’t afford to be deceived, don’t let what little goodwill I have left in the world be buried with you.”
“I’m really just looking for someone to eat with, and I just complimented you, so why are you being a mother-in-law again?”
It seemed like an answer, but by this time my testosterone hormone production had begun to be abnormal, so what was there to be afraid of under her agitation?
“Then you buy me a steak!”
They say eating steak is life threatening, but I’ve been very interested in steak lately, and even if I’m disappointed in her, at least there’s steak to soothe my hunger.
“Okay, I know a new Taiwanese western restaurant on People’s Road, let’s go and try it. Meet me at the entrance in half an hour, okay?”
She’s so forthcoming? I didn’t expect her to actually invite me, it was just a random smart-ass move, so I guess I’ll just have to tough it out.
“Then we leave each other a cell phone, later if cell phone contact. My is 1380 ××××××× (personal privacy, and afraid of infringement or xxx it).”
This is where modern communication tools come in handy. What are you wearing? What do you look like? How tall are you?
What’s in your hand? Omit everything!
“Mine is 1390 ××××××× I won’t let you down too much and I hope you don’t let me down either, see you in a bit.” With that, her name disappeared from the chat room.
Not too disappointed? The word “too” really struck me, so I can only imagine that she was being self-effacing!
I dawdled for a while, politely finished saying goodbye to my N-sister, and started the weekend with a date with a strange woman.
After calling a cab and estimating that it was almost 30 minutes, I went to give her a call, I had to at least confirm that she was female, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe everything I was told.
The phone rang just once and she picked up, her voice on the phone was soft and polite, so I can at least give her a 90+ rating. I apologized and told her that I was stuck in traffic and that I would be about 5 minutes late, she said that she could totally understand that 5 minutes late was nothing with the current traffic situation.
I snickered a little, pleased with my little trick, told the driver my destination with confidence, and began to visualize the sweet-voiced girl standing in front of the restaurant waiting patiently.
To my surprise, there weren’t any girls hovering in front of the restaurant, but rather two beggars searching the trash cans for waste. I immediately realized what it meant to be embarrassed, as if everyone around me was scrutinizing me. Especially intolerable was the fact that every girl who passed me by could have been deliberately teasing me. The music of “Love at First Sight”, the ringtone of my cell phone that I had just changed on my way out, played appropriately.
“Why are you still standing outside? I’ll wait for you upstairs in the window seat.” It was as if a hand with a cell phone waved at me from behind the floor-to-ceiling glass window, and I had no choice but to walk into her plan.
Going up the stairs, I saw her immediately, though there were no words or signs. Keeping my pace, I walked up to her and sat down without any melancholy and said, “I’m Fang.”
She didn’t have any panic either: “Is your name really Fang?”
I said, “Yes, I’m really called Dialect on the Internet.”
This was a mature woman who looked 22 or 23 at most, but the long, fitted dress, the delicate hairstyle, and the faintly tantalizing scent of perfume on her told me that she was exactly the kind of woman I wanted. Even though her facial features were pretty clean, they were nothing compared to her figure. Even sitting down, I could feel that her body was indeed stirring up the fire, stirring up my arousal. (I really didn’t realize it would be such a pain in the ass to write, so I’ll just keep using my ellipses.)
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We said ten times as many words over dinner as those apostrophes. Over steak and words, we drank the entire bottle of wine, a few moments of drunkenness on each other’s faces. As we descended the stairs, I held her gently by the waist, feeling the warmth and softness of her body.
After leaving the restaurant, my hand never left her skin again. Even though all I wanted to do was make love, we somehow managed to pace into a disco, where we bumped into each other in vigorous motion, teasing each other’s arousal with our bodies. By the time the slow dance started, she was already marooned in my arms, letting me squeeze her full, bouncy breasts against my firm pecs.
Impatiently I pulled her and rushed out of the disco, and in the cab we kissed frantically, like two beasts who hadn’t had enough to eat, devouring and chewing each other.
I disarmed her all before throwing her on the bed, and the frantic lovemaking made my crib creak. My cock was ramming left and right in her fleshy hole, and she was moaning and screaming “Don’t stop!” Taking her cue, I sprinted and bobbed even more frantically, taking every movement to the extreme, exaggerating the swing of my hips, and letting my rod keep stirring her nectar.
Her orgasms came one after another, and before each one she cried out, “I can’t stand you!” But I knew she wanted it again, and my body catered to her every orgasm as if that was the purpose of my lovemaking.
I began to control my rhythm, I was going to make her reach numerous orgasms. I left her fleshy hole and let her suck my cock, her tongue was flat and small, and although she had no finesse, my cock could feel her doing her best to satisfy my every flutter.
Without any guidance, my cock slid into her again, this time so thick that she hissed, “It’s too big, it’s too deep…”
The extreme swelling produced extreme pleasure, and I finally felt like exploding, and in the moment of eruption, I sensibly pulled my cock out (I wasn’t wearing a condom, after all), only to see the bullets flying across the room, over her breasts, landing on her lips, face, hair, the wall behind the bed, and the last few splattered on her breasts, her belly.
She said she had never seen such a marvelous scene and it reminded her of the landing scene in Saving Private Ryan. She said if she had to choose how she died, she would rather be killed by my bullets.
This night we stayed up all night and made it to 7am. Saturday mornings are my exercise time, and this time every week is my tennis date with my girlfriend. What should I say when I see her later? I started thinking about this in bed…
After a busy day, check out the following: “I Missed the Dutch Game (Second Night of the Ravishing)”.