After Being Betrayed by Bai Yueguang, She Said She Wanted to Keep Me as a Mistress (Pure Yuri) - 01 Sweet Dream [H]

01 Sweet Dream [H]

For an adult’s life, masturbation was no longer an attractive topic. It became as ordinary as eating three meals a day. People forgot it when busy, prioritized sleep when tired, and couldn’t proceed without good “side dishes.” Unfortunately, good side dishes were limited in the world. If someone was picky, they ran out even faster.

Although Zhou Pinyue just turned 26, she was in such a phase.

It was summer. The bedroom had no air conditioning. When she opened the door, a wave of hot air greeted her.

She carefully cleaned the small toy at the sink and dried the suction part with a cotton swab.

She forgot how she fell asleep last night.

She splashed cold water on her face, rinsed her mouth again, thought for a few seconds, frowned, and returned to bed with the little toy.

The heat wasn’t just from the temperature.

Since she had the urge, she decided to deal with it quickly and start drawing afterward.

She swiftly took off her pants, lay on her side, hugged the blanket, tucked it between her legs, slipped the toy into her underwear, positioned the suction part on her cl!toris, and used the underwear to hold it in place.

After pressing the button, the vibration didn’t bring overwhelming pleasure.

It was faint.

Perhaps because her period just ended, her mind was filled with erotic thoughts. She really wanted to do it. But her body felt exhausted and listless.

Sometimes, she couldn’t understand why the human brain and body were so out of sync.

She expressionlessly browsed the homepage of a porn site. The video thumbnails were exaggeratedly funny, no matter the sexual orientation. They always had a cliché composition: someone boldly displayed their anus to the camera, used both hands to spread it open, and fully exposed the area between their legs. It was as if they were showing a lesion to medical students.

She stubbornly searched “Lesbian amateur.” The results were the same as yesterday, the day before, and even last week.

She considered looking for female moaning audio. But knowing most were performed for men made it unappealing and somewhat immersion-breaking. Lesbian-oriented audio felt a bit embarrassing and hard to get into.

Or perhaps manga or novels? But the overwhelming heterosexual content often had weak heroines being heavily pampered. It was more laughable than arousing.

She stopped the vibrating object between her legs, sat up, propped pillows behind her back, tossed the phone aside, grabbed her hair in frustration, and sighed deeply.

When she was younger—specifically around 11 or 12—masturbation didn’t need any side dishes. It relied entirely on imagination.

Were children’s imaginations really that vivid?

Also, she suddenly realized a shocking fact: she started masturbating in elementary school?!

What did she think about back then? A pair of hands caressing her body? At an age when she barely understood anatomy, she thought the urethra and vaginal opening were the same and had no idea what a cl!toris was. Her concept of private parts was quite vague.

“Are you bored with me already?” 

Zhou Pinyue lowered her head. She nervously muttered to her own genitals.

Realizing what position she was in, she blankly stopped her thoughts.

Inevitably—though she avoided the image since waking up—that person’s face appeared unbidden in her mind. It continued last night’s dream.

“Want to do it?”

The woman in her room wore a tank top, an open shirt, and jeans. It was as if she had been out in the hot streets for a while. She had sweat-dampened hair on her forehead.

In the dream, Zhou Pinyue sat on the bed like this, pantless. She instinctively pulled at her shirt hem. And she nodded inexplicably.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes, sure.”

It was perhaps noon. The curtains weren’t drawn, the sun blazed, and cicadas chirped loudly. The woman sat on the bed. Without kissing or foreplay, she just leaned down, grabbed Zhou Pinyue’s ankles, spread her legs wider, and pressed her lips against the sparsely haired vulva.

The warm breath and moist flesh reminded her of urination. It was making her panic. She feared loss of control. A warm current surged to her lower abdomen. It caused her to tighten her pelvic muscles, arch her body, and tense her abdomen.

A sweat drop slid from the woman’s forehead to her jawline. From this angle, only her eyelashes were visible.

Was it too tiring? Zhou Pinyue reached to wipe the woman’s sweat.

“This is a bit tiring to hold,” 

The woman said suddenly, amid dizziness. 

“Can you move to the bed’s edge? Is that okay?” 

So Zhou Pinyue obediently shifted, feet on the floor. The woman placed a pillow under her knees, knelt, propped Zhou Pinyue’s thighs with her shoulders, placed hands on her slightly sweaty stomach, and gripped her waist firmly.

At this point, Zhou Pinyue didn’t realize the dream was exactly like the scene from her favorite amateur video, with the face swapped.

Swapped with whom?

Her shirt hem kept falling. So she held it in her mouth, one hand supporting her body, the other interlocking fingers with the woman.

During climax, she tried not to clamp her legs to avoid squeezing the woman. But her body’s spasms were uncontrollable. Her heels even touched the woman’s ribs.

She was soaking wet. The bedsheet had a dark patch. And slippery fluids spread to her inner thighs.

The woman looked up with curved, smiling eyes. 

“Don’t bite your clothes,” 

She said, pulling the T-shirt hem free. 

“Come closer.”

Zhou Pinyue caught her breath. A hand pulled her nape forward. She was meeting a kiss wet with her own fluids.

“See, isn’t it salty?”

The woman’s chin was slick with saliva and fluids. Her lips were wet and slightly swollen from sucking.

In the dream, Zhou Pinyue stared blankly at that face and called out a nearly unfamiliar name.

“Cheng Yafei.”

The most hated person in the world.

It was disgusting. She wanted to vomit.

Why did she have a wet dream about this person?

Zhou Pinyue looked up at the ceiling. She was feeling a stomachache.

But her hand moved uncontrollably. It slipped into her underwear.

It had been a while since she did it manually. The feeling was different from a machine. The moment she touched her cl!toris, her shoulders instinctively shrugged from the sensation.

It was surely the softness and warmth of her hand that felt so good, not that face.

After all, for years, thinking of that face brought disgust, resentment, and jealousy. It was like foul vomit pouring from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Occasionally, before evening study, Cheng Yafei would drag her to the rooftop. As student council members, they had keys and could do as they pleased.

They would hide in the school’s signboard, behind the character “ten.” At the railing’s edge was a protruding platform where they could sit. At first, they sat side by side cautiously. They turned to let their soft lips touch and part. Like two woodpeckers, They had only light, fleeting kisses. Later, craving more, they stood face-to-face. Cheng Yafei was a few centimeters taller. She let Zhou Pinyue wrap arms around her neck while she slid hands under Zhou Pinyue’s armpits, holding her shoulder blades. In their shared sanctuary, their kisses deepened. Mouths opened as if chewing each other’s jaws.

Warm, soft flesh enveloped their lips. They were exchanging wet breaths. They clumsily sucked upper and lower lips in turn. When their rhythm faltered, teeth clacked together. They were making sweet sounds. Sometimes, her gums itched as a tongue slipped in. It was teasing briefly before retreating.

Why did they do this?

They weren’t together, weren’t dating, just “best friends.” What could be more disgusting? Were they using each other for practice?

Yet, her v4g1na secreted mucus, and her buttocks felt sticky. Her face and ears burned, as if feverish, unlike before. Zhou Pinyue knew shame was at play. She took a deep breath, slid down, closed her eyes, hugged the blanket as a substitute, and buried her face in its “shoulder.”

“Yafei, ah—I’m close…”

During high school masturbation, she softly called that name. The explosion before her eyes wasn’t white but red, like the name.

It felt like someone truly held her—surely the blanket’s texture was just that good. Zhou Pinyue thought this while suppressing the nausea rising from her throat. Pleasure shot up her spine. It triggered a lingering spasm.

A sour, heavy sensation filled her lower abdomen. She buried her face fully in the blanket to muffle her uncontrollable, intermittent moans.

The most cherished person in the world.

Erotic panting turned into suffocating sobs. Without tears, it was hard to tell the difference. Thankfully, the cotton absorbed her tears completely. It was like ice melting into water.