Chapter 4 — The Woman Who Loves Sex - Part 1 (4)

It's been nearly a year since I first brought her into my bed. The woman who once didn't know how to kiss or touch now thrives in her own sexuality. She's learned to tease, to make a man ache with longing. She's learned what feels good—and now she wants more.

No matter how closely I look, her face holds not a single trace of conventional beauty. Her lips, once so stiff and uninviting during kisses, now know what they're doing. More than once, I've nearly lost control—despite my usual restraint. All this, in just one year.

That said, I haven't devoted myself solely to her. I'm busy with other women, so I can't afford to be seen clinging only to Jenny. Besides, we work at the same company. If people started suspecting anything, it could get messy. So whenever I want her, I find a plausible excuse—sometimes for intimacy, sometimes just for oral.

When she's on her period, I'll still be intimate with her. Honestly, I don't care about a woman's cycle—I only care about being with her. Still, she sometimes complains, which I find mildly amusing. Lately, I've started thinking it's time to move on.

She now understands her own body so well that she says she pleasures herself regularly. She could do it more often alone, but then she'd grow desperate for the real thing and couldn't stand it. So she limits herself—but even then, her underwear is soaked through more times than I can count.

Once, I dropped her off past midnight. That night, I simply drove her home. Later, she told me that after showering and lying down to sleep, she couldn't fall asleep—so she started fantasizing and began touching herself. She touched herself with her fingers, then used her hand to sample her own wetness. For some reason, she said, it tasted especially good that night.

Lost in arousal, she grew more excited, her juices flowing freely. So overwhelmed that she didn't realize she'd let out a loud cry. It started with a gasp—"Hah!"—then rose into a sharp, drawn-out sound. Startled, her mother, sleeping in the next room, rushed in and asked, "Jenny, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Unable to answer, she pretended to be asleep. Her mother muttered, "Must be dreaming," closed the door, and left.

Internally, she thought, Dreaming? She tried to get up, but—oh no—her underwear and even the bedsheets were soaked. As she hurried to grab toilet paper, arousal dripped from between her thighs. That night, she not only changed her clothes but also ran the washing machine in the middle of the night.

While showering after laundry, she started pleasuring herself again—but this time, she changed her fantasy. She imagined multiple people together.

Someone was touching her while another person was intimate with her mouth.

"Hah!" "Ah… mm…"

As she performed this act, aroused by the sensations, someone else began to touch her body—then was intimate with her in another way. In her fantasy, two people were now deep inside her—one here, one there. She could squeeze around one, but the other couldn't tighten at all. Overwhelmed, she couldn't even make a sound. She wanted to touch another person, but they were already engaged with others—so she focused on giving pleasure instead.

Lost in this fantasy, she came so intensely that fluid poured from her body. This is Jenny now—fully awakened.

Her body, honestly, is nothing special in some ways—only certain parts are prominent.

But her most intimate area, untouched by any man before me, remained untouched for a reason—and now, she offers both to me. Unlike other women, hers is so sensitive that even the lightest touch sends shivers through her whole body.

She'd be a perfect woman to meet at night for intimacy. But though she's not hideous, she just doesn't meet my standards—so I can't be seen with her in daylight.

Since I posted these stories, I've received countless messages. Everyone asks the same questions: Is there really a woman like that at her age? Is she really that responsive? Can you give me a chance with her?

Yes. All of this is true. She's responsive—so even the slightest touch draws out gasps and moans. And the sight of her touching herself while being intimate with me—her hands working in rhythm—is pure perfection. Just imagine it: her mouth full, her fingers working, moaning in rhythm.

But I asked those who begged for a chance:

"Would you give me your wife?"

And without exception, they all said, "No."

Of course. You want to taste another man's woman, drink her wetness—but your own wife? Never. Still, maybe someday someone else will get to experience her.

Now, I'll write about other women I've been with. And if the chance comes, I'd like to share more about Jenny. Even after being with over a dozen women, hers remains unique—soft skin around the entrance, sparse hair, a small opening. One day, I might let you all see it.

Among my lovers, there's even one with a perfect body—everything in proportion. You might wonder why I'd stay with someone like Jenny. But she was untouched, a woman who once said she'd live alone forever. I stayed with her to show her another way.

Now, she's preparing to stand on her own. And now that she knows how to enjoy her body, it's only a matter of time before she finds a man who'll pleasure it.