She had waited longer than most. At twenty-two, Mei still carried the quiet weight of her own untouched body like a secret she both cherished and resented.
The apartment in Shanghai was small, the summer air thick with jasmine and distant rain. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend, leaving the space to Mei and the man she had chosen: Jian, older by three years, patient, and the only one who had never pressed.
They began on the narrow bed with its white cotton sheets. Jian kissed her slowly, letting his mouth learn the shape of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. Mei trembled, not from fear but from the newness of sensation. His hands moved over her blouse, unbuttoning it one pearl at a time, revealing skin that had never been seen by anyone but her. When he lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth, she gasped, the pull of his tongue sending a sharp, liquid heat straight between her legs.
He took his time undressing her. Each layer of clothing removed felt like shedding an old skin. Naked, she lay back, knees together at first, then parting under the gentle pressure of his palms. Jian looked at her without hurry, his gaze traveling over small breasts, narrow waist, the neat dark triangle between her thighs. “You’re beautiful,” he said, voice low. “Tell me if anything feels wrong.”
Mei nodded. She reached for him, fingers clumsy as she helped him out of his shirt and trousers. His cock, already hard, curved upward. She touched it tentatively, fascinated by the heat and the way it twitched under her fingers. Jian guided her hand, showing her how to stroke, how much pressure. The first time she heard him groan because of her touch, something inside her loosened.
He kissed his way down her body, parting her folds with careful fingers. When his tongue found her clit, Mei’s hips jerked. The sensation was nothing like her own shy explorations; it was wetter, hotter, relentless. He licked slowly, circling, then sucking gently until her thighs began to shake. She came the first time with a startled cry, her hands fisting the sheets, wetness coating his chin. Jian did not stop. He slid one finger inside her, then two, stretching her carefully while his tongue kept working. The second orgasm rolled through her harder, leaving her panting and dazed.
Only then did he move over her. He rolled on a condom, positioned himself between her open thighs, and pressed the head of his cock against her entrance. “Look at me,” he whispered. Mei met his eyes. She felt the slow, steady push, the burn as her body yielded, the sharp moment when resistance gave way and he slid deeper. She clutched his shoulders, breath caught, but the pain was brief, quickly overtaken by fullness and pressure that made her moan.
Jian moved with long, careful strokes, letting her adjust. Each thrust sent new sparks through her. When he angled his hips to rub against that tender spot inside, Mei’s back arched. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his thighs, urging him deeper. The wet sound of their bodies filled the small room. Sweat slicked their skin. Jian kissed her open mouth, swallowing her rising cries.
She came again around him, inner muscles fluttering and gripping, and the sudden tightness pulled him over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt and shuddered, groaning her name against her neck. They stayed joined, breathing hard, until he softened and withdrew.
Later, they lay tangled together, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip. Mei felt sore, marked, and strangely powerful. Outside, rain finally began to fall, tapping against the window. Inside, she turned toward him again, already curious about what her body could do next. Jian smiled, kissed her shoulder, and reached for another condom. The night was still young.
