Chapter 1- virginity

Frank, 28, had always been a bachelor. Right now, he stood beneath the showerhead in the hotel bathroom, his gaze scanning the mirror with profound dismay at the bulky figure reflected back at him. In just a few hours, he would be turning 29.

Just a month ago, he couldn't even dare to hope for a chance to escape the predicament of being single. It's not like there weren't girls who were interested in him; his economic status in Texas ensured he didn't have to worry about livelihood. But even then, it was only some cute girls who would pretend to be interested in him, only to feign anticipation before their inevitable disgust showed through.

All of it was nonsense. Though he might seem earnest, the only girl who even considered him, albeit as a backup, a tool, or someone to exploit, was Ivanka. Yes, Frank was still a virgin, and the sole reason for that was Ivanka.

On the first day of high school, Ivanka, the beauty who sat in front of him, became the goddess in his heart. Ivanka was just a year older, practically just a few months, yet universally acknowledged as beautiful by both genders. She exuded a gentle and kind aura, never putting on airs of superiority.

She was also the first pretty girl to show genuine kindness to Frank, an average-looking boy. By the second week of sitting behind Ivanka, he resolved to marry none but her in his lifetime.

Yet throughout high school, he did everything except muster the courage to confess. After school, he silently followed Ivanka on his bike, always guarding her, fearing for her safety. He studied physics, chemistry, biology, and math relentlessly, just to tutor Ivanka in the subjects she struggled with.

He spent a year losing over 70 pounds, transforming from fat to fit, all in the hope of appearing more attractive to Ivanka. His countless favors and selfless acts towards Ivanka seemed trivial. Ivanka gently hinted several times that he was too good to her, making her slightly embarrassed.

He only managed to muster the courage once, suppressing the heat on his face as he awkwardly used words he learned online, chuckling nervously, "How could I not? You're my... goddess." Ivanka blushed a little, her smile shy yet radiant, making him forget about the gender of the teacher at the front of the class for the rest of the lesson.

Actually, Ivanka's grades weren't that good; she almost ended up pursuing an art path. He worried that if she went to art school, he'd never catch up, so he studied like mad, burning the midnight oil to help her catch up, wracking his brains to come up with various mnemonic techniques. Finally, he managed to get into the same university as her.

In order to be as close to her as possible and to be able to enroll easily, Frank squandered his chance to attend a better university, rejecting the option of repeating a year at the cost of almost severing ties with his family. He and Ivanka ended up in the same third-rate university, studying the same major.

In their sophomore year, Ivanka fell in love.

Of course, he couldn't be her boyfriend.

After all, he couldn't even say the word "like".

In their senior year, Ivanka broke up. She sat on the steps beside him, crying her eyes out. That was the closest he ever came to confessing, but the words choked in his throat, and he swallowed the bitterness.

He knew Ivanka too well.

He knew she'd taken emergency contraception pills numerous times for her boyfriend.

He knew her gentleness was all an act.

He knew she had several backups, but the others weren't as obedient as him.

He knew... the truth beneath all the pretense, knew that his infatuation was toxic poppy.

But his feelings had nowhere else to go.

Ivanka's roommate, a girl from the same dorm, had once spent over an hour scolding him, furious that he was so nonchalant after she revealed the truth, saying he had known all along.

That obsession couldn't just disappear because of a mere graduation.

In the years that followed, struggling in Beijing, he almost turned himself into a brick under a skyscraper.

And Ivanka, after a few boyfriends, gently told him in a café that she wanted to settle down, planning to register with her current local fiancé before she turned thirty.

Frank didn't know what to say. He touched his chest, feeling a stab, but that stubbornness was still there, twisting in his brain like a rope. He listened to her for a long time with a smile, took the bill, promised to take good care of her seemingly silly dog, called the waiter, paid the bill, left, and returned to his rental. Amidst the landlord's furious yelling for him to throw out the pet, he collapsed on the bed, silently shedding tears.

He didn't know what he had gained, or what he was still hoping for.

He quit his promising job, packed his bags, and left the bustling yet unwelcoming city. He returned home, apologized to his parents, and within half a year, he became the landlord of an apartment building.

Over the next year, he gained 90 pounds, transforming from someone who could do physical labor to the chubby recluse he was now, wincing with pain at the slightest exertion, except when chatting with Ivanka, all his time was spent gaming.

Until a month ago.

A month ago, Ivanka came back.

They met at their usual restaurant.

Ivanka told him she had broken up. She said she had thought long and hard, and realized she couldn't let him go. Some people, once they're used to someone, can't adapt to being apart.

With clear tears in her eyes, she held his hand and asked seriously for the first time, "Frank, don't be so self-deprecating. Honestly answer me one question, do you... like me, right?" At that moment, he knew Ivanka had been dumped by the local rich guy. And she was probably pregnant and in a hurry to find someone to take over.

After that, he went along with her wishes, ecstatically becoming her boyfriend, spending the whole day dating and shopping with her.

Until tonight, when he accepted the birthday gift Ivanka had prepared for him—a first time.

He had sworn to himself that even if he couldn't marry Ivanka, he would at least have his first time with her. So he intended to fulfill that promise, then tell her everything, make a clean breast of it.

As for what happened after that—whether he'd go on blind dates and find a pretty girl who was after his money, or let Ivanka have an abortion and delay her chance to find someone to take over— he hadn't decided yet.

Just thinking about it made his face contort slightly with resentment in the mirror.

He quickly lowered his head, rinsed his face with cold water, adjusted his expression, dried himself off, and walked out of the bathroom.

Ivanka sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at her phone or the TV, just staring in the direction of the bathroom, as if she had been waiting for him to come out.

But Frank knew she had probably put her phone down when she heard the water in the bathroom stop. That's just the kind of woman she was, always like that.

"Frank," she softly uttered the intimate nickname they recently started using again, her eyes pleading just enough to tug at his heartstrings. "You... really won't despise me for not saving my precious first time for you?"

"No, it's because I used to be... too cowardly, too afraid to even tell you my true feelings. It's all my fault." He adeptly shouldered the blame and walked towards the bed.

He didn't dare to say much more after that because he was nervous, so nervous that he was worried that his penis wouldn't get hard.

With all the theoretical knowledge in his mind, he was still nothing more than a virgin.

As a matter of course, Ivanka took on the responsibility of guiding him. In the last month, she had probably offered to give him more substantial attention than in the last ten years combined.

FRANK suddenly understood why there were so many so-called receivers in this world, it was not only the result of being humble in a relationship for a long period of time, but also because this sweet happiness of being rewarded, even if it was false, would bring a numbing drug-like illusory satisfaction.

Coke who do not know will be fat, but can not help it is good to drink ah ...

They started with frank's first kiss, and under the dim bed light, Ivanka's towel was pulled away from him, revealing the delicate nude body that he had fantasized about in countless ways and was finally getting an actual image of for the first time at this moment.

Sadly, it was still her from high school that he thought of.

No woman in this world has ever won time, and the girl with the delicate skin and tight curves that could fulfill every sexual fantasy of a teenager has disappeared from this world.

Of course, his libido is still there, and his desire for Ivanka, still strong.

The obsession that had suddenly died remained a huge corpse in his mind.

He got down and kissed and sucked her breasts, frantically licking the slightly purple nipples. He ran his hands through her dense pubic hair, parted her already quite developed labia, and with a ragged gasp gouged at her vaginal opening where she had long since stopped having to worry about bleeding.

All theoretical knowledge forgotten, he moved like an obese male beast, following his instincts.

She begged him to be gentle, and he rose excitedly, ready to enter.

But just then, his cock went soft.

"It's okay." Like the smile she'd displayed at his recklessness in high school, Ivanka quirked her lips, but this time, instead of turning around after smiling, she wrapped her arms around him, kissed his skin, and curled all the way down past him to take his cock.

The skillful technique and great psychological stimulation turned to save the little brother's decadence.

This time, she lay back and spread her legs, watching him tenderly, taking his purple glans between her fingers and guiding him, into the wet, soft, organ he'd been too embarrassed to scrutinize even tonight.

Pleasure felt like it was exploding all over his body, and he excitedly grabbed her ankles and sat on his knees on the soft mattress, thrusting wildly.

He had finally ended his virginity.

He finally... could feel utterly relieved from the absurdity of his life when recalling it.

His long-standing masturbation had made his stamina not quite at virgin levels. He bent over, hands gripping her swaying ample breasts, maintaining a rapid movement.

However, his lack of exercise for a long time made even such copulation unbearable for him.

Panting, chest tight, drenched in sweat, even his shoulders and back began to feel strangely numb. Frank refused to accept it. He clenched his buttocks, seeking that exhilaration when his glans was stimulated, accelerating and thrusting several times, turning a deaf ear to Ivanka's delightful moans, only wanting to ejaculate as soon as possible.

Finally, that intense ecstasy, which had made his whole body tense, officially arrived.

But along with it came a severe stabbing pain in his chest.

A strange sensation of floating captured Frank's body.

He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The world before him rapidly lost its color, the deafening sound of his heartbeat suddenly ceased.

He heard Ivanka's frightened scream.

He saw a colorful light.

He felt like his heart was about to give out.

He thought he was the unluckiest man in the world, dying from a heart attack on the night he was about to "conquer" a goddess.

This was his last thought before consciousness faded away.