During the summer before my senior year of college, I took a night bus from my home in Tainan back to my university in Taipei. When I finally reached the dormitory around eleven at night, I realized the school had closed for a week-long summer break, and a notice on the door announced that the dorms were temporarily shut down. I was in trouble. Most of my classmates had already headed back south, and the few locals left were either girls or people I wasn't close enough to disturb so late at night.

Giving up on finding a friend, I hopped on my scooter and cruised through the East District to kill some time. By midnight, exhaustion finally took over, and I decided to just find a motel. I found one that looked reasonably clean—not the kind of place with dark, grime-streaked glass doors and old, tacky signs boasting "Luxury Suites." After checking in, the receptionist, an older woman, told me there were no single rooms left. I had to take a double, though she was kind enough to charge me the single rate. After registering, I took my key to a third-floor room. The interior was quite tidy; the sheets and quilts were crisp and fresh, and the plain curtains paired with pale yellow wallpaper showed that the owner actually took pride in the place.

*Ring... ring... ring...*

That was strange. A telephone? Who on earth would be calling me? Perhaps the front desk had something to tell me.

"Hello, sir! Would you like some company?"

Company? What a strange way to put it. Then it clicked—she was asking if I wanted to call for a girl.

A wicked thought flashed through my mind: *Nobody here knows me. Why not?* Emboldened by the anonymity, I replied, "Sure."

The moment the call ended, regret washed over me. I was still a virgin, for heaven's sake! Was it really worth giving my first time to a prostitute? What if she was hideous? What if she was old and withered? Or worse, what if she was carrying something? Herpes, syphilis, warts... or even AIDS? If it was the latter, my life would be over.

The more I thought, the faster my heart hammered against my ribs. Cold sweat began to bead on my forehead. *No, no, this is madness,* I thought. Gathering my courage, I picked up the phone to tell the desk to cancel.

But just as the receiver touched my ear—

*Ding-dong... Ding-dong...*

Oh no. The doorbell. She was already here.

*Whatever,* I thought, steeling my nerves. *It's not like luck will be that bad on my first time.* I took a deep breath and swung the door open.

A delicate-looking girl stood there. Her face was clean and devoid of heavy makeup, but she was undeniably beautiful. She wore a simple Mickey Mouse T-shirt, denim jeans, and white canvas shoes. Her long, silky hair caught the light as she gave me a soft smile. "Hi! Hello."

Faced with such a beautiful girl, I became a stammering mess. "He... he... l-lo..." I stammered, wondering if she had the wrong room. She looked like a typical college student, not at all like the "call girls" I had imagined.

"Are you looking for...?" I had to be sure before making a mistake.

But the question was unnecessary; she was already pulling her T-shirt over her head.

She wore a strapless bra, a simple black band that barely contained her. The rounded cups covered only half of her full, firm breasts, the pale pink lace hugging her skin perfectly. The fit was impeccable, lifting her breasts so they stood proud and shapely—easily a full 33 inches, as perky as a lingerie model in a magazine.

The center of the cups peaked slightly, marking the unmistakable shape of her nipples.

I felt a sudden, heavy pressure in my trousers. It began to swell, growing harder and harder. The kind of body that made me weak in the knees while staring at bikini photos was now standing right in front of me, living and breathing.

She seemed used to the stunned silence of men. Tossing her hair back, she tilted her head and teased, "Am I pretty?"

My mouth hung open, but the nerves kept the words trapped in my throat.

She moved with a fluid, natural grace that felt almost domestic, as if she were simply preparing for a bath at home. She unbuttoned her jeans, slid the zipper down, kicked off her shoes, and stepped out of her clothes. She wore white lace panties with delicate patterns; the fabric stretched slightly over the soft mound of her crotch, hinting at a dark shadow beneath. Her waist was slender, and her legs were perfectly proportioned and inviting.

When she took my hand, a jolt of electricity shot through me, much like the thrill of secretly holding hands with a crush while crossing the street. She led me to the bathroom and turned back.

"Take your clothes off outside first."

I scrambled to strip, left in nothing but my underwear, and walked to the bathroom door. Taking a deep breath, I pinched my thigh hard to convince myself this wasn't a dream.

Inside, she had already discarded her bra and panties. She stood completely naked, her slender fingers lightly kneading her own nipples, a strand of hair caught between her teeth, making her shoulder-length hair look delightfully messy. Her mound was lush with dark hair. Seeing a woman's most intimate, blushing center for the first time made my breathing turn ragged.

Before I could recover, she reached into my underwear and grasped my aching, erect cock. She began to stroke it slowly, her breasts pressing firmly against my chest until I felt almost breathless.

As she slid my underwear down, my rod sprang free, throbbing and a deep, angry red. Under her touch, it became even more formidable. With one hand cupping my base, her other hand deftly played with my testicles. Waves of heat surged from my groin, racing up my spine and straight to my brain. Having never touched a woman before, the stimulation was overwhelming; a surge of fluid felt ready to burst from the tip.

*No! Not yet!* If I finished now, it would be so unmanly. She’d think of me as a joke.

I squeezed my glutes tight, trying to hold back the tide. Sensing my tension, she released my cock and began to lather herself with soap.

"Sit on the small stool," she commanded, turning on the shower to soak us both.

I thought she was going to soap me up, but instead, she began to use her soapy, silken pubic hair to scrub my back, my shoulders, and my chest. Naturally, I ended up lying on the floor, letting her straddle me to wash my lower body. Being serviced by her soft hair was far more sophisticated than using hands alone; it sent me into a floating, euphoric trance. Then, she took a mouthful of warm water. Just as I wondered what she was doing, a rush of warmth flooded my glans. She took my cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking and teasing it with the warm water. This time, there was no defense.

A violent surge of pleasure erupted from my groin to my brain—sudden, intense, and unstoppable. My cock thrust powerfully into her mouth, and waves of semen erupted from the tip, filling her maw. Her hand gripped my base, pumping rhythmically to ensure the stimulation was relentless. Every muscle in my body tightened; my blood seemed to concentrate entirely in my groin as I surrendered to the ultimate carnal joy. As the rhythm slowed, my energy spent, I collapsed onto the floor. She flashed a satisfied smile, sucked the very last drop from my spent cock, and then tilted her head back, swallowing the warm water and my seed in one go.

The sight shook me. When I masturbated, I never thought to taste that thick, salty white essence—yet here was a woman who not only took it but swallowed it. They say a drop of semen is worth nine drops of blood; perhaps that was why her skin was so pale and her body so exquisite.

After rinsing off, she wrapped herself in a towel and climbed onto the bed. I gripped my shrinking member, trying desperately to coax it back to life, but it remained limp. I thought of those old movies where aging men drank bull's blood to regain their vigor, only to fail in front of their beautiful young mistresses.

*Damn it!* That was just the foreplay, and already the main course was failing. It wasn't just about the performance; it was the embarrassment. I had overexerted myself too early.

After a long time of rubbing and coaxing, it was hopeless.

"Come to the bed. Let me help you."

My face burned. She had read me perfectly. Wrapping a towel around myself, I sat on the edge of the bed like a scolded schoolboy. She hugged me from behind and whispered in my ear, "Is this your first time?"

I nodded, my face turning a deep crimson. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

"It's okay. I'll teach you slowly."

I regretted everything. I should have just slept alone. Now, instead of me taking her, she was taking me. I didn't know if I was the customer or if she was the one playing me. The most pathetic part was that even after being "played," I still had to pay her. A small spark of resentment flickered in my heart.

She told me to lie back and spread my legs, then she hovered over me, stroking my groin. Despite her seductive teasing, my underwhelming member remained a shriveled little thing.

"Let's rest for a moment and watch some videos."

We turned on the TV to a Japanese adult film. The actress was stunning. She lay naked against my chest, one hand on my shoulder and the other wandering over my crotch. As I squeezed her breasts, my energy began to return. Seeing the actor in the film tear a woman's bra away, my cock suddenly surged, growing hard and formidable once more.

I rolled over, pinning her beneath me. I cupped her breasts in my hands and buried my face in her cleavage, greedily inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin. As she breathed, her heavy, rounded breasts rose and fell before my eyes, her pink nipples standing tall against her darkened areolas, radiating a silent, hungry command. Though a novice, she guided me. She took my cock and pressed it against her wet folds. The hard shaft pushed through her moisture, sliding into her vagina with a slick, velvety heat. The sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was incredible. As she clamped her thighs around me, the friction of her hair and the tight grip of her walls sent a fire roaring through me. I gripped her hips, slamming my pelvis against hers, the skin of her thighs slapping against my testicles. I accelerated my pace until a cry escaped my lips. I spread her legs wide and drove into her with everything I had. She didn't resist; instead, she fueled my primal instincts. I wanted to lose myself in her heat, to bite and taste her. Her face flushed a deep red under the dim amber light of the bedside lamp, her lips parting in soft, rhythmic moans of pleasure.

After what felt like an eternity of frantic passion, a sudden contraction gripped my lower body, sending a bolt of lightning from my spine to my brain. I gripped her breasts harder, thrusting wildly, while she arched her hips to meet every stroke, her moans rising in pitch. It was the ultimate union of man and woman.

When the climax finally hit, I pulled out of her. A thin string of nectar connected us for a moment. Her skin was flushed, and her breasts were marked with my teeth and finger marks. Sweating and exhausted, I collapsed beside her, one arm draped over her shoulder as her nipples slowly softened. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.

When I woke, the world was a blur. I felt slender hands roaming over my body and smelled a faint, elegant scent of orchids. She had showered and was naked once more, her hands wandering over my chest.

"Are you still up for it? Shall we go again?"

I tried to move, but my limbs felt like lead. I could only manage a weary, lopsided smile and a shake of my head. She didn't seem disappointed; her hand closed around my cock and began to play with it. Though my body was spent, the sensation forced an erection so sudden it was almost painful. I tried to think of anything else—mountains, rivers, even the electromagnetism equations I hated in class—but it was useless. She knew exactly where my nerves were most sensitive.

As her tongue swirled around the tip, a mixture of pleasure and ache rose within me. She climbed on top of me, using her body to guide me back inside her. This time, it wasn't pure pleasure; it was a rhythmic, intense ache, much like the sensation of over-masturbating. *She's ravishing me,* I thought.

It was a strange fate—to have my virginity taken, only to be "conquered" by the woman. She showed no mercy. But as she moved, my desire flared once more. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her down so I could feast on her breasts, before flipping her over to pin her to the mattress.

*Fine! If you want to ravish me, let me show you what a man can do!*

I became primal, biting and scratching, my hands kneading her breasts with a newfound ferocity. I bit her nipple, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. I stopped being a gentleman. I drove into her with a frantic, bruising rhythm, my testicles thudding against her most intimate depths. In my mind, I wasn't just a student; I was a conqueror, treating her like a legendary star in a fever dream. Her cries grew sharper—was it pleasure or a plea for mercy? It didn't matter. I wanted to conquer her.

She began to struggle, her hands pushing against my chest. But her resistance only fueled my lust. I felt a surge of animalistic dominance. I gave her a few sharp slaps, the red marks blooming on her pale cheeks, making her cries even louder.

"No, no! Stop! Please!"

*Too late,* I thought. *You started this.*

I gripped her wrists to pin them above her head and drove into her with everything left in my soul. She went from shouting to wailing, her face wet with tears. But the more she pleaded, the more the tension built in my loins. Just as the final wave approached, I pulled out, held her mouth open, and let the thick, hot torrent of my seed spray deep into her throat.

When the world stopped spinning, I peeked at her face. The look of pain had vanished, replaced by a dazed, almost ecstatic expression. She used her finger to catch the stray droplets on her lip and licked them clean. She had been faking the pain—or perhaps the pleasure was simply so intense it felt like pain. She had been thoroughly satisfied.

"That was amazing... you're incredible. I've never had a climax like that," she whispered.

I felt a surge of masculine pride. Looking at the faint bruises on her skin, a strange sense of triumph washed over me.

Eventually, I climbed out of bed, naked, and sat in a chair to light a cigarette. She lay there with her eyes closed, her hands still roaming her own breasts as if reliving the moment. She was a masterpiece of a woman—full breasts, a tiny waist, long, elegant legs. It was hard to believe she was doing this for money.

"Are you... a student?" I asked suddenly.

"Why ask? In this business, we don't talk about our backgrounds."

"It's just... you don't seem like a professional. You look like a college girl. And I *am* a college student."

"I'm a junior, studying Sociology," she said, surprising me.

"That's... impressive. But why? Someone as beautiful as you?"

"Different perspectives, I suppose. I'm not vain, and I'm not broke. In fact, I get a scholarship every semester. I just wanted to see a different side of life—to see the world outside the ivory tower."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Over six months. There are seven of us living in a shared house. We're all top students from different universities. We take turns going out to meet clients so we can still study and work part-time jobs at night."

"Do your classmates know?"

"Of course not. At school, I'm the perfect student—clubs, activities, plenty of boys chasing me. But I don't have a boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder if those boys would still chase me if they knew their 'Snow White' could be bought."

She explained their rules: they chose their clients carefully, requiring IDs and looking for "clean," respectable men to ensure safety. They rarely saw the same client more than three times to avoid messy emotions.

"How long will you keep doing it?"

"Once I have enough for my studies abroad, I'll stop. I want to find a real love."

I hesitated, then asked, "Did it... really hurt earlier?"

She laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "You really are a virgin. When a woman reaches a true climax, the line between intense pleasure and intense sensation blurs. When it happened to me for the first time, the pain of the hymen breaking was swallowed by a wave of sheer, overwhelming ecstasy. That is a sensation only a woman can truly understand. Men are a bit tragic, really. You have your release, but you don't experience the soul-shaking euphoria we do. To you, the act is just a release of animal urge. To me, your cock was just the tool that helped me reach the peak. Don't think you 'conquered' me so easily."

I lay down on the bed, facing away from her. Even though I was exhausted, my mind was racing. She was brilliant, far more sophisticated than any girl on campus. She was a woman who owned her life, for better or worse.

The next morning, the sun woke me. It was mid-afternoon. My body felt heavy and achy, a lingering souvenir of the night before. As I turned, something bright red caught my eye on the nightstand. It was a red envelope—the price of my first time. Beside it was a small note:

*Hope you slept well. Hope to serve you again.*
*Tel: XXX-XXXX*
*Jenny*

I stared at the note, the memory of her skin and her scent rushing back. The cost was ten thousand dollars—my entire month's rent and living expenses. She had given me a "student discount," bringing it down to four thousand, but it was still a fortune to me.

*Forget it,* I thought. *A man like me can't afford a woman like her.*

I burned the note with a lighter, struggled into my clothes, and stepped out of the motel into the bright, new day.