After a few months, I was gorgeous. Not cute, not pretty, not beautiful—gorgeous. Well, as far as this world was concerned anyway. Milky skin, slender figure, long eyelashes, glossy hair. I was eighteen (again), though, so it was the youthful kind of beauty, not the elegant and powerful beauty of someone mature like Fairy Liang.

I was also a lot more popular now.

The way I saw it, stories about people being reborn or becoming a character from a book or whatever, the main thing was the person now actually thought about their life, so they made better choices. Like, pretty much anyone could have studied harder, but kids don’t get that. They could have been nicer to people, been more helpful.

Xiaoxiao didn’t understand that either. I did. I had to know it.

The kindness of a pretty lady was way more impactful than an average-looking woman. I helped with chores, thanked people more genuinely. Not interested in guys, I kept a good distance from them, not flirting for favours, making sure the other girls didn’t misunderstand.

Finally, I built up enough goodwill to ask a senior sister for a water purifying pill. It really wasn’t easy. People who could make pills would make pills for favours, so I was right at the bottom of the list, especially since it wasn’t like I could give them the ingredients either. But it wasn’t a hard pill to make, thankfully.

Pill in pocket, I returned to Fairy Liang’s pool that night, very familiar with the route. After the first time, I didn’t dirty her pool any more. Dipped my legs in while I got myself off and cleaned up my mess before I washed in the pool.

The only thing was… it wasn’t as intensely erotic. Being in the water made it so easy to think of Fairy Liang.

I rolled the pill between my fingers, reason crumbling. Since I was going to purify the water anyway, did it really matter if it was a little bit dirtier first?

Not-that-long story short, I gave in, got in, and got off. It was incredible. Now I was more used to the body, it wasn’t as sensitive, but being in the pool brought me right back to the first time. I couldn’t even move after, just soaking in the warm water and yin energy.

Reluctantly dropping the pill in, I wished I hadn’t held back, mourning over the lost pleasure.

With that done, I went home and slept soundly. At least I didn’t have those guilty thoughts any more.

The next day, nothing unusual happened. I did my chores, helped a couple people with theirs, spent some time meditating. In the middle of the night, I sneaked back to Fairy Liang’s pond for my real cultivation.

It was disappointing to not go in the water to do it, but I didn’t want to waste more favours on more pills, so I set up on the edge, legs dangling in, just spread enough for my hand to easily rub, a towel underneath.

Even back in my old world, I had to give up some pleasures. Couldn’t be caught with dildos or vibrators. I even avoided lesbian porn in case my parents put spying stuff on my laptop… not that that saved me in the end.

My thoughts wandering, I focused on getting in the mood, eyes closed, gently touching my boobs. It took some fantasising before my touches felt hot, tingles lingering behind. I reached down and cupped my vulva, rubbing it in a small circle, feeling the heat grow. I always thought “flower” was a good euphemism, the way it changed really like it was blooming. How it opened, dyed red, a bit of “nectar” dribbling out. I wet a finger with my juices, then delicately teased my clit.

Settling into the usual rhythm, I edged myself, working up to an orgasm, but stopping just short. It really was like torture. My whole body needed the release, suffocating.

Well, even if I wasn’t doing it for my own pleasure, I doing it like this sucked the yin energy in. Gave me another reason to hold on as long as I could.

But I couldn’t do it forever.

Reaching my breaking point, I spread my legs wide and slid two fingers in, used to the slight stretch by now, fingers curling, teasing. Like I fainted and went to Heaven, everything was white and full of bliss, all the frustration tearing apart my body silenced by the flood of pleasure. My moan came out choked, heart pounding erratically, arms losing strength as I fell back, blindly staring up. A dumb smile was on my lips.

As hot as I was, the night breeze quickly woke me up from my daze. Everything ached a dull ache. A good ache.

“Good evening.”

My poor heart nearly gave up, those two words cutting through the pulse pounding in my ears. I would’ve scrambled, but I didn’t have the strength, could only reach out behind me for my robe, then pull it over my body. Tentatively, I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked over for who had spoken.

And my heart nearly gave up again.

I knew her well from my imagination, not exactly the same, but close enough. Tall and slim, scarlet hair like wine in the dim light, yet the little moonlight that filtered down glowed on her pale skin. Her robes had an emblem on the front: a cherry blossom. It was a gift from the old sect leader to acknowledge her as a cherry tree fairy, a joke both endearing and embarrassing. But she loved the old sect leader like a father, always wore it.

Fairy Liang.

I was on the far side of the pool to her and she was on the doorstep. She walked over in long strides, but it looked like she was in resting robes, every stride revealing her leg. Beautiful legs.

At the edge of the pool, she stopped and stared at me. I didn’t think about it at the time, but I can imagine how I looked: overflowing with yin energy, pale skin flushed, eyes misty, robes barely covering where they needed to, and I was staring up at her through my long eyelashes.

No wonder she said next what she did.

“Well, trespasser, you have two choices: take responsibility for my body, or write a thousand lines in apology.”

I suddenly felt calm hearing that. Really, my first instinct was that I was going to die again. And there was also something reassuring about being given the choice. She wasn’t a man, overcome by lust.

But I knew my answer: “I’ll take responsibility,” I said, voice husky from my earlier moaning.

There was a long second of silence, then she asked, “You’re an adult?”

“I’m almost nineteen.”

Like those words were a spell, her robes fell to the floor. Wide-eyed, my gaze inched down her body, heart pounding. She was gorgeous. More than that, she was sexy. I wasn’t that picky, but she made me realise what it meant to be attracted to someone, to desire them.

I wanted to feel her, taste her. I wanted to worship her.

From her long, slender fingers, to her big, firm boobs, to the string of juice hanging from her vagina—I wanted to worship her.

The blissful haze had been blown away by the panic, now started to return. I stood up carefully, legs still weak, then shuffled around the pool to her, my robe left behind. I felt her gaze every step of the way, stirring up my arousal.

At her side, I looked up at her, barely keeping myself from attacking. She stared back for a long moment, then eased herself down onto her robes and spread her legs for me.

Her vulva was beautiful. A quirk of cultivating, we had no body hair. I couldn’t help but kneel down and kiss her, lightly sucking on her inner folds, tracing my tongue up her thigh. She shivered, a throaty breath slipping out.

I was a virgin. As much as I’d done with my fingers, I obviously hadn’t ever eaten myself out. So I fumbled around, imagining what would feel good, listening to the hints she gave me with her body. Worked up to her clit, making sure she was ready.

At the same time, I was burning up. I slowly realised that this was what I’d always wanted. Not just sex with another woman, but being able to pleasure her without touching myself. It didn’t matter how much I kissed and licked her clit, mine just ached with desire, begging.

The frustration grew inside me and I took it out on her, a vicious cycle. Drowned in her moans, lost in her musky smell, her every shiver and twitch sending a wave of pleasure through me, but that pleasure never brought me any closer. Like drinking and drinking and never quenching my thirst.

But her thirst was quenched.

Her clenches coming quicker, her movement more desperate, her moans sweeter, I knew she was close, and I overwhelmed her to push her over the edge. But then I slowed down, gently working through her climax. Tender kisses that just grazed her clit, idly rubbing her inner thigh. Her voice settled into deep breaths.

I wasn’t finished, though. I needed to worship more of her. My lips trailed down to kiss her thighs, then trailed all the way up to her boobs. I kissed one and kneaded the other, feeling like my entire vulva was throbbing, every drop of blood pumped down there. Her boobs felt so good to touch, her nipple so good to suckle. My hips tried to buck, hoping to brush against something.

Then she touched me.

I gasped, her fingers pressing into my bum. My lips slipped off her, burying my face between her boobs, a shudder rolling through me.

So close.

Pushing through it, I lifted up enough to slide a hand down. With two fingers pressing against her entrance, I looked her in the eye, asking, begging.

She nodded.

She didn’t know.

I sucked her other nipple, nibbled it, and my fingers worked her. This, I wasn’t a beginner. Fingers slick, I rubbed some of her juices onto my thumb, then circled her clit and teased her inside, curling my fingers along her wall. My other arm kept me up, but my mouth was free to work on her boobs.

I was desperate. Desperate to get her off before I broke. Her fingers on my bum dug in, short nails painful, but that pain felt so good, mixing with the pleasure. Her clenches squeezed my fingers, but couldn’t stop me. I couldn’t even stop myself if I tried, my body moving on its own.

Losing myself, there were just needs and desires, entwined, feeding into each other. Her blatant arousal drew me deeper, needing to please her, to reward her for being so sexy. She felt so good to touch, to hear, and her erotic scent still lingered in my nose, so different to mine, so sweet, reminding my tongue of her taste.

And the better I made her feel, the better she was to me. The sound of her vagina squelching every time I moved my fingers, her moans getting huskier and impatient, the way she writhed, her nails sinking deeper into my bum. My mind was overwhelmed with pleasure while my body cried out, worse than edging, better, pure torture. It didn’t matter how good I felt, I’d never cum.

But I was close to breaking.

My frustration leaking out, I bit her boob, hard enough to make her gasp—and she came the next second, clenching my fingers tight, her whole body tensing up and shaking.

Broken, I straddled her leg and grinded against her. As soon as my clit touched her, I shuddered, and that only made the pleasure more intense. I couldn’t stop, hips bucking against her as every orgasm I’d ever denied came back with vengeance, the only thing keeping me upright the tension tearing apart my every muscle.

Bliss flooded me, washing away everything, even my consciousness. I just existed, my senses turned on, but nothing sticking, like I was paralysed. Collapsed on top of her, shudders growing infrequent, but sometimes I shuddered in just the right way to rub my clit on her, sending another orgasm through me, so sensitive even a breeze would set me off.

She could have killed me, but she didn’t. Her hands lay idly on my bum and heart beat against my ear resting on her chest. I didn’t think about it at the time, but she was probably in a “coma” too. The second climax came so quick after her first.

I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, probably an hour. I drifted in and out of sleep. No dreams, just the sound of her heart and the sight of her one boob, a little squashed by gravity. Even if I wanted to move, I couldn’t, muscles turned to jelly, nerves fried.

But I didn’t want to move. Fucking her was great, the best orgasm I’d ever had by far, but this sense of peace was something I never knew I needed until now. Listening to her heart, beat after beat, nothing between us.

I should have felt cold, covered in sweat with a chilly night breeze, but everywhere we touched felt so warm, and it spread, spread through me to my very soul. The bliss should have warn off after a few minutes, definitely after ten. I should have hurt, my muscles so strained. I should have returned to my senses.

But I didn’t.

An hour, maybe more, maybe a bit less, then she finally moved, her hands coming up to comb my hair. The spell broken, I stirred, but only woke up when she carefully held my shoulders and sat up, bringing me into her embrace.

It wasn’t particularly tender, her arms loose, but I felt so safe sitting like that, my shoulder resting against her boob and legs curled up onto her lap. Unfortunately, she stood up shortly after and left me sitting there on the grass. A flick of her hand and a sharp gust of wind—she had a fire root—blew over my robes, which she carefully draped over me.

“You’ve learnt your lesson, so go back once you’ve recovered,” she said, voice still rich and throaty. Even after all her moaning, it wasn’t strained. The perks of being strong.

I tried to speak, cleared my throat, then tried again. “Yesh, Fair—I mean, Elder Liang.”

With that, she returned to her residence and shut the door behind her.

Half an hour later, I finally felt strong enough to go back.

Of course, when the next night came around, I returned to her pool.