The muscular volleyball captain (urban life adult novel)

That year, perhaps it was our school's turn to host a city-wide college volleyball tournament. My classmates were very excited because we were a boys' school and it was a rare opportunity to see girls play.

On the days of the competition, some teachers would say with a smile after more than half an hour of class: "Let's end the get out of class early today. You all seem distracted." So everyone cheered and ran to the court - especially those who came to play basketball from the girls' school that all the girls in the city were scrambling to get into.

I also followed her to the stadium and saw her. She was 5 feet 4 inches tall and well-proportioned. She was the captain of her girls' school volleyball team and the main object of collective cheers from us hungry high school boys. She was covered in sweat from head to toe, her short hair was flying, and no matter whether the ball was a good shot or a bad one, the boys in our school cheered. It was quite a sight! She always had a stern face, looking like she was concentrating on playing, but occasionally the corners of her mouth would slightly rise, unable to hide her smugness.

As for me, I always deliberately shout "Good ball!" at the top of my lungs as soon as the noise of "Good ball!", "Good ball!" dies down. It's really too much. But I have also been a little famous in school and don’t care if my classmates think I’m arrogant.

When she heard me yell "good shot" for the first time, she knew it was me and quickly turned around to look at me.
Gave me a sweet smile. This is like dropping a bomb among classmates. Amid the uproar, familiar classmates will say something like "What, you got the upper hand?", "Boss, don't be so conceited!"

I knew her before the game. Her name is Nana. She was introduced to me by a classmate and friend of mine. She is his godsister.
Her house is very close to mine. After we met, I often went to her house to see her. Sometimes her mother would also smile and ask me to come in and sit for a while. Her family consists of only daughters, four of whom are golden hairpins. The house is simply and plainly decorated, and there is always a warm, light scent of clothes that have just been dried or ironed. I sat shyly on the rattan chair in her living room and answered her mother's questions like a good child.

However, she and I usually went to the school across from her house to play and found a place to sit under a tree by the playground. She was learning guitar, and sometimes she would bring her guitar and play some little tunes. She also taught me one or two short introductory songs. The school playground was quiet on the weekend afternoon. In the distance, boys were playing basketball in the sun on the basketball court. She and I were chatting under the tree like childhood sweethearts.

I remember one or two times she sat cross-legged on the grass, her big skirt covering her lower body completely. After talking for a while, she said, "Do you want to lie on my lap?" Okay! I lay on her lap and looked at her from bottom to top. She was a sweet girl and at that moment, I felt like a little sister (actually, we were in the same grade). We continued talking.

When I think back today, her plump breasts were right near my forehead, and her private parts were just below the back of my head.
But I had no distractions at that time. I had the experience of secretly touching the private parts of my maid (about fourteen or fifteen years old) while she was sleeping when I was in fifth grade. Why didn’t I have any improper thoughts now that I was in high school? I have no idea.
Perhaps everyone has experienced the brief few years of purity that young Werther had? Maybe the eleven-year-old touching the maid was just out of curiosity,
And a seventeen-year-old lying on the lap of a girl who looked mature without any desire, was that just the beginning of love?

When we first met, also in the school campus across from her house, she looked up slightly (I am about ten centimeters taller than her) at me and said in a dreamy tone: "You are so handsome. I have never seen a boy who is so handsome. And your handwriting is so beautiful." (Don't get angry, my dear readers. This is what she said, not me. Besides, not many of my ex-girlfriends said that I am good-looking.) So, after only two or three months of dating, before we even reached the stage of holding hands and kissing, she suddenly became cold. Of course, I felt both wronged and puzzled.

She said, "Don't come to see me anymore." I asked her why, but she refused to tell me. Years later I could only guess two clues. First, the classmate who introduced me to her mentioned that she was dating another boy (also from our school). Second, she suddenly felt that I was not manly enough? I was shy and gentle back then, and her sister once jokingly called me a little girl. Later, she also joked with her sister like that. It seems that if you joke too much, you will take it seriously?

My little seedling of love had just sprouted when it was trampled to death. Since there was nothing to talk about and I didn't feel any particular pain, I would still visit her house occasionally. Her mother is still very kind to me, her sister is also very kind to me, and her younger sister often still treats me like an older brother and talks to me about little things of a little girl. Of course, it was also because she had become more restrained; I didn't ask her about her new boyfriend, and she stopped teasing her (which at its worst had bordered on mockery).
Me.

After that, I was preparing for the college entrance examination and I rarely went to her house. We went to different colleges and didn't see each other for a year or two. One year during the summer vacation I went to her house again and we resumed our relationship, but now we just felt like old neighbors.

One day she came to my house, and I took her to the study upstairs to talk. She asked what books I could lend her, and I said one by one: "This Brave New World is so-and-so; this History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, I've just started reading it; this is The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, how is it different from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in terms of artistic conception; this Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, well, it's not suitable for children; this is The Wanderer's Song, and..."

I looked up at her inadvertently, and saw that her face was red and full of smiles, and her eyes were staring at me. I said, "What's the matter?" She smiled and said, "Nothing." It was almost dusk, and the lights in the study were not on yet, so it was a little dark. She had to go home for dinner soon. My heart suddenly moved. I put my hand on her knee, and she grabbed my hand; I touched her thigh, and she put her hand up to block it; I touched her big breasts, and she resisted even more fiercely; I touched her cheeks with both hands and wanted to kiss her, but she said no.

We each sat on a chair and just sat there arguing. She didn't run away, fight, or scold, but she also refused to calm down and let me touch her properly. She just kept saying no, no. Her breathing was disordered and she was panting, and the air was filled with the stuffy breathing between the two of them. Just as I was grabbing her buttocks through her trousers with my hands (please accompany it with the gongs and drums of Peking Opera: "Kuangdang! Kuangdang!"), a Cheng Yaojin suddenly appeared: my sister.

Maybe my sister didn't intend to embarrass me. She was four years younger than me. Maybe she had a vague idea that what my elder brother was doing upstairs with my elder sister was not good. She didn't even reach the door of the study. She shouted halfway up the stairs: "Brother, what are you doing?"

It ended quickly and I sent her downstairs. When she arrived at the front yard gate, it was already dark. She kept her head down, looking like a young wife and a victim of harassment, but she did not say goodbye or turn around and leave.
The several encounters with her were always filled with this weird and confusing atmosphere (even in the study), which makes me feel itchy and sweet all these years later. It is no exaggeration to say that it is still vivid in my mind.

I saw her lowering her head, as if she was not going to leave. I looked back at home and saw that my mother was busy in the kitchen, and my sister did not come out with me.
So I didn't rush to open the door. I hugged her and kissed her neck, and used my free hand to touch her butt. She resisted slightly, but her important parts were well protected.

"Really, I'm leaving. No more, okay? No more, okay?" Then I opened the door and let her go.

Didn’t I say earlier that I’m shy? Why were all the things we just talked about the behavior of male dogs? Because I was no longer a virgin at that time; I had slept with my college girlfriend in my sophomore year.

A few days later, around one or two in the afternoon, she came again and I was the only one at home. She said the weather was very hot.
He can't sit still at home, so he brings his homework to my house to do. We were in the living room, she sat on the long sofa and I sat on the single sofa, each reading our own book.

I know it's a bit bizarre to tell this story today: a man and a woman alone, who had a confrontation a few days ago, how could they be reading their own books now, acting as if nothing had happened? But that was how it was at the time, at least I didn’t think of anything else. I didn't have much courage at that time. After all, we were so young when we first met that we didn't even hold hands.

When we met again, I forced myself to touch her in the study, but it was only because of the way she looked at me with a smile when she listened to me introducing the books. The look in his eyes seemed to be very appreciative, as if I was very bookish, so, on that hot afternoon in summer vacation, I thought reading was just reading!

The living room was very quiet, with only the faint hum of the air conditioner. I don't know how long I had been reading, but when I looked up,
I saw that she was not sitting, but lying down. The artificial leather sofa took up her entire slender body. Her head and neck were resting on the smoothly curved armrests. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt and light apple green trousers, with the book on her stomach.

I said, "Hey, are you asleep? Nana." She didn't say anything. I called her softly a few more times, but she still didn't respond, only her chest and abdomen rose and fell slightly, calmly and not hurriedly. It was only then that I thought, maybe I should touch her secretly a few times?

I knelt down beside the sofa and quietly observed whether she was really asleep. Today, I may feel that all kinds of possibilities are possible. Maybe I really fell asleep, or maybe I didn’t. After reading the entire article, readers may have their own guesses or judgments. But at that time I really thought she was asleep. Anyway, I didn’t think at all that she was pretending to be asleep.

I first took the book off her stomach, looked at her a few more times to confirm that she was asleep, called her softly twice, and pushed her right shoulder gently once or twice, but she didn't respond. Only then did I lower my head and peck her lips lightly, two times, three times. She didn't move and her breathing was normal. I put my hands on her breasts, not daring to grab them for fear of waking her up. She still didn't move.

I moved my face just below her belly and sniffed between her thighs through her trousers. It's a faint mixture of the scent of a grown girl's body, the warm fragrance of a woman's private parts, and an even lighter, slight smell of urine. It smells so good! I gradually became bolder and reached out to unbutton her shirt, starting from her chest. Her breathing became a little faster.

Her shirt was undone, and I left her bra alone. Instead I worked on the zipper on the front of her trousers, deliberately not unbuttoning the waistband first. Is it intuition? Or was it just a little experience that the girl had at that time? If she suddenly "woke up", at least my hand would have been inside her panties, instead of seeing her open her eyes when I unbuttoned her pants.

I pulled the zipper all the way down, revealing a pair of white cotton panties with a low waistline, allowing me to see her snow-white skin below her belly button. Since the waistband of the pants has not been untied, the visible area is very small and long. The upper part is a snow-white belly.
The lower part is white underwear. I pinched the top edge of her panties with my right fingers and lifted them up, and slowly inserted my left hand into her panties, trying not to touch her skin.

At this moment, she opened her eyes and asked, "What are you doing?" I don't remember the next process very clearly. Basically, I didn't answer and pressed my whole body on her, but only on her upper body. When I kissed her lips, she dodged left and right, but still gave me a few solid French kisses.

Then I sat on her thighs with my legs apart and unhooked her bra. From this moment on, she kept repeating these words: "What are you doing?", "Let me up!", "Don't do this!", "You can't do this.", "Let me up!", "What are you doing?"

Her resistance, like the French guerrillas in World War II, harassed the German army but could not change the fact that France fell. I grabbed her wrists with one hand, straightened them and pressed them above her head, and with the other hand I rubbed her two big breasts. I'm not a strong and powerful person, and she was on the school volleyball team, so it shouldn't be impossible for her to break free from my grip on her wrists; at least she didn't seem to try, she just twisted her body and begged me in pain with a voice that sounded like she was about to cry, but she didn't cry from beginning to end.

I ate and nibbled her breasts, played with them for a while, and then went to kiss her passionately. She still dodged me, occasionally stopping to kiss me a few times, and continued to beg me to let her get up. I had already let go of her wrists and was taking off her pants. She grabbed my forearms with both hands, but I still took off her pants and panties together. I forgot whether she raised her butt a little bit higher at that time.

As she begged with a voice that sounded like she was about to cry, I lifted one of her legs with one hand, exposing her private parts completely.
A hairy area with thick labia majora. I held the glans and pushed it in. It was sticky, and her vagina wrapped me tightly. It was slippery and sticky when I thrusted. The strong smell of her lower body floated on my nose, and the sweat on my face dripped onto her belly. You all know that feeling, right?

When it was over, I felt like I had fallen back from heaven to earth. "It's over!" 'I thought to myself, 'Will she have a seizure? Sue me? Should I go to the classmate who introduced me to her, her brother, and cry to him? Will she tell her parents and come to their house? 』

She lay there quietly, and after a while she said, "I'm going to the bathroom." I got up and let her go, while cleaning up the scene and paying attention to what was going on in the bathroom. There was the sound of flushing, followed by the sound of washing hands, and then she returned to the living room, dressed neatly, with her head lowered, and sat back at the end of the sofa where she had sat reading before. I muttered something like "I'm going to the bathroom too," in a weak voice, and I don't know if she heard me or not.

I simply cleaned up in the toilet, feeling confused: Should I apologize? How to say it? Why do men think with their small heads? Will she make a big fuss? After cleaning up, I returned to the living room and saw that she was still sitting there reading a book. She didn't look at me or pay any attention to me. But she seemed to be in a good mood, because she crossed one leg over the other and swayed gently on her toes, looking very relaxed. Moreover, she was whistling while reading!

The next time we met was a year later, during the next summer vacation. During that time I had no contact with her, not even a phone call, it was as if this incident had never happened. One day during the summer vacation, she came to my house and asked me why I ignored her sister. I was completely confused; her sister came two or three days ago, just to see me, her older brother, and I forgot what they talked about. I didn't know what she was going to say, and my mother was at home, so I told her that I would take her upstairs to talk.

We went upstairs and entered my sister's room (which was on both sides of the stairs from the study mentioned above). We only spoke a few words, and it was completely irrelevant. I felt that this might be an opportunity, so I turned around and closed the door.
Locked. Her face turned pale and she asked, "What are you doing?" I didn't say anything. I pulled her to the bed and pushed her onto it.
She didn't sit still and fell back. Before she stood up, I unbuttoned her trousers (trousers again!), and both she and I were careful not to make any noise, so in a silent but somewhat intense tug-of-war, I took off her trousers and her panties as well, just like last time.

Once taken off, the lower body is exposed: snow-white belly, thick pubic hair, snow-white and plump thighs, and toned calves. How could I have been so courageous? Perhaps it was her reaction of not running away, not scolding me, not hitting me (but just pushing and pulling with me) that gave me the courage!

I stood in front of her, took off my pants and took out my thing. She begged in a low voice, pushed me with both hands (still with the strength of the French guerrillas), and glanced at the ugly thing in my lower body from time to time. Just when she said "let me go", I pushed her back, lifted her legs, and that thing squeezed open the purple-red labia and entered, ah! It was that sticky, slippery, tight embrace again.

I was thrusting very quickly, afraid that my mother would come upstairs to check; at the same time I reached under her shirt to touch her breasts. Her whole face was red, her eyes were wide open, and her breathing was heavy. When I touched her breasts, she grabbed my forearms with both hands and said intermittently, "Let me get up, let me get up."

I grabbed one of her big breasts with one hand and just focused on thrusting quickly, looking at her lower body completely naked, with her upper body clothes pushed up above her chest. Her body was shaking from my impact, and suddenly I remembered that there was something I hadn't done before. I immediately pulled out my dick (really, when I just pulled it out, it seemed like there was still some heat floating on the stick. This is not an impression, it's just a feeling), pulled her arms with both hands, and asked her to sit up.

She looked up at me with a puzzled expression. I pointed at the glans. She looked at it, then looked at me. She understood and shook her head with a pitiful expression. I held her shoulders and moved her head close to me, but she still shook her head. Then she opened her mouth and swallowed the glans.

I only let her suck five or six times, then pushed her back, lifted her legs, and continued to fuck her (the so-called old man pushing the cart?). After fucking her for a while, I pulled her to sit up and hung the glans in front of her eyes. She still shook her head, then opened her mouth and took it.

Such a beautiful girl, such a wonderful reaction, such an unpredictable mentality, I didn't care about anything at the time. I just wanted her to eat five or six bites and then push her down. She sobbed and said, "Let me get up."
But she lifted her long legs, so I grabbed each of her fat breasts with one hand and thrust quickly, which gave me a completely ravaging pleasure psychologically. Then I came.

Done. I hugged her and she hugged me. We kissed each other briefly, quickly straightened our clothes, opened the door and went downstairs. We never talked about it afterwards, and she gave me the impression that she would not pursue the matter.

We met a few more times afterwards. One time, I went to the school opposite her home at night and talked in the middle of the playground.
Then he chased her like a game, trying to grab her and touch her or take off her pants. One time at night, he went for a walk to another school, walked into the classroom, and chased her between the desks and chairs, also trying to molest her. It’s strange, it’s the same both times, I couldn’t catch her no matter how hard I chased her. I thought to myself, is he teasing the little male dog? I don't want you to catch me, so you can't catch me?

The last time I saw her was about a year later. When I arrived at her house, what a coincidence, she was the only one there. At this time, my heart had already become evil towards her, and the moment I saw her, I just wanted to have sex with her. She was wearing tight khaki shorts, very tight, and we were rolling on the floor like wrestlers. She was still begging in a low voice, but her lower body kept changing positions, making it impossible for the Germans to miss.

Finally, I took off her white shorts, pulled them halfway down her thighs, pressed her legs down and tried to penetrate her from the front. I admit that I am an idiot and a fool. How could I get into that kind of position? I pressed her down and pushed my half-soft, half-hard (she had been struggling for too long) cock against her vaginal opening. She kept moving, so I ejaculated at her vaginal opening without even getting in.

I apologized to her, and combined with the shame of not having gotten it done, the apology seemed quite genuine at the time, but she didn't seem to blame me.

Later, I went abroad for many years and never heard from her again. I only heard two things about her. One was that she married poorly and lived in a small town. Second, she was punished by the school when she was in college for misbehaving with a male classmate in the classroom.

After I returned to China, I lived near her hometown and often rode my bike through that area. Is she okay now? What kind of person is her husband? How many children do you have? Where is her elder sister? What school did her sister go to later? A beautiful face with peach blossoms, the original poster is a pretty girl!
It's the best forum to pass by and have a look. . . Push it. . .
It turns out to be the right thing to do to come to Czech every day. Keep going to dig for treasures. Let’s all push it together!
It's right to come to Czech every day. Keep going to dig for treasure. I'd be sorry if I didn't recommend such a good post. I love it the most. The plot is not bad~~
It would be a shame if I didn't recommend such a good post. Share the joy. Great article. Please support it~