Shanghai Nostalgia

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 1

I can’t shake off the feeling of being ridiculous. I was already quarter of a century old when she was born. What would a girl, barely out of her teens, see in a middle-aged man like me? I am probably as old, if not older than her parents, as if the case in many of my dalliances with the girls I encountered while ‘entertaining’ in the KTVs of Shanghai.

Xiao Qing was, as it turned out, 24. I met her while picking a new sweater for the coming winter. Like many of the male species, I am no window shopper, in fact, I don’t even like shopping. I usually walk in a store, make my pre-determined selections, and walk out of the store with my purchase in less than 20 minutes.

Xiao Qing was the salesgirl for that section of menswear. I told her I was looking for a sweater, preferably cashmere, dark blue or grey, and sized L. She smiled and instead of helping to fulfill my purchase, she said, ‘Sir, you should not be wearing darks, some colors make you even more distinguished’. Hah! Me, distinguished? Right, whatever you say. Nevertheless, I was intrigued, and asked her to show me what she has to offer.

She smiled again, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and turned to search among the shelves. I admired her shapely legs, free of blemish, silky smooth. She had on skin-colored ankle socks the Chinese love, and probably company issued black patent shoes with inch high heels for a job that required standing for long hours. She’s about 5’2” and not more than 55kg in her socks, and from her back view I surmised, even in her company issued jacket, she was probably quite shapely, in fact, I would dare say quite a masturbatory accessory. I walked casually to the other side of the shelf as though to look at other stuff, to steal a look at her through the pigeonholes. Mmm… not bad, fair of complexion with a touch of freckles which I find rare in Chinese girls, and rosy cheeks as though she’d just stepped in from the cold. Her lashes were impossibly long, I would have guessed faux if not for the fact it would be more appropriate on a KTV hostess.

‘Here, this will be perfect on you’ she looked up. I looked away but knew I was caught, hand in the cookie jar, and felt the heat in my ears. She laughed, and had audacity to console me, ‘Don’t feel bad, I have that effect on men’. What cheek. It’s my turn to laugh. ‘Na wo jiu bu ke chi le, then I won’t stand on ceremony’ I said, completely out of character. I mean I don’t usually flirt on a whim. This is supposed to be a quickie shopping item on my to-do list but looked it is turning into something exciting.

I cupped my chin with my right hand and rested the elbow on my left, and tried to look as debonair as I could, as though admiring a piece of art. As I scrutinized, it strikes me I am looking at a piece of art. Her hair was dyed just a hint of brown with lighter streaks, with soft natural curls, just to her collar. Large doleful eyes that turn on a dime to mischief, and did I mentioned those lashes? And don’t set me off on those pouts, absolutely Julie Christie. She’d make a beautiful model. Many times she’d bemoaned her lack of height and I would console her that we’d not have met had she been another 6 inches taller, and she would sigh and then cheered up. Although I would not consider her slim (which makes me think of protruding collarbones) I would best describe her full, womanly, cuddly, you know what I mean, the sort you spent hours just holding in your arms enjoying the comfort in her fullness, face between her, er, fullness. I moved slightly to the side, her profile was no less enjoyable. Under the jacket I could make out a promise of very healthy lungs, definitely a C cup, the contours putting off any notions of pads. Summing up, I would say she looks like the attractive girl next door, not too in-your-face that says, ‘Hey, why don’t you jack off while you look at me?’

She laughed again at my scrutiny and asked if I had enough. I see she enjoyed posing. She came up close, unfolded the sweater, put it up against me, hands on my shoulders. I could detect emanating from her a faint aroma, not of perfume, maybe her feminineness. It made my heartbeat skipped a few beats and so loud I’m sure she could hear it. But she made no mention of it and explained why the sweater suits me so much. I was much speechless now and felt like a schoolboy. I thanked her and told her it will do. While writing the docket, I agonized over asking her out for dinner but the words just could not form. It’s been a long time since I felt this way, and I could not help smiling at my silliness much later.

I managed to get out of the store without any more gaffs, and kicked myself for leaving without her number, dammit, even without her name. This from a so-called middle-aged, well-travelled citizen of the world.

I thought of her the next few days and tried to rationalize my hesitancy. I had lots of doubts. What did she sees in me? and so on. Only on the net would I confess to going to the store to ‘peep’ at her and I did that for 2 days in a row.

The third day I was caught, well not exactly caught. I bumped into her just as she was making her way back to her station from the staff room, and I was coming into the store from the third floor to avoid being seen by her on the second. It was just as well, or I’d have to spent time antagonizing how to bump into her ‘accidentally’.

‘Oh, hello. Come back to see me?’ she greeted me in English. I must have turned red because she laughed and apologized. Caught the second time. Damn, I must stop this. ‘Where did you learn English?’ School, and also from her parents, she explained, Mother was a teacher, as we stepped onto the escalator.

Did you really come to see me? Yes, I confessed, throwing all caution to the wind, and today’s the third time. She smiled, I know, my colleagues saw you, although I didn’t. Damn, damn and double damn. You will have dinner with me, not a question, more of a sniveling groveling plea. Wait for me the entrance of MacDonald’s at 6.30. I was elated and felt like clicking my heels in mid-air. Yahoooo!

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 2

6pm found me at the entrance of MacDonald’s nearest to her store; there were several Golden Arcs along People’s Square. It seemed like the longest 30 minutes. This was the busiest time of the day, the human traffic along this pedestrian only kilometer long shopping street swelled even further by the onset of National Day holidays. I gave up looking out for her, it’s just an impossible task.

She was already right upon me before I saw her. She slipped her hand round my arm matter-of-factly and said let’s go. I had thought of bringing her to one of those posh Western restaurants around this part of Shanghai but a previous experience changed my mind. A first date I had in Beijing with a nubile aspiring TV actress turned out to be such a dead starfish in bed even after an whole hour of tongue lashing, actually beg me to buy her a RMB3 bowl of noodles half an hour after leaving a fancy restaurant. Turned out she never had Western before and preferred a female circumcision, but sat there looking at me eat saying she was not hungry. Judging from her performance later, she probably had the procedure done, by a senile iman with a rusty penknife.

Back to People’s Square, I asked her what she like to eat, explaining while we walked towards the train station, that I have been in China long enough to know of China’s diversity, that it’s impossible to know what people from each province’s preference are. Muslim don’t eat pork, the Hunanese, Szechuanese prefer theirs fiery hot, the Cantonese cuisine’s little more refined, the Northern preferred wheat noodles, buns, dumplings of various fillings to rice, which is the staple in the South, and so on, yada yada…. It’s absolutely shameless sometimes what I do to make an impression, if only she didn’t deflate me ‘You don’t have to show off, you know. Let me bring you to my favorite, we’ll walk to build up an appetite’. This girl is getting on my nerves, which is not a bad thing, since it will be all the more sweeter when she begs to be allowed to come. Muahahaha!

Shanghai at this time of the year is perfect for walking. The humidity is low so you hardly break out in sweat; the temperature is a comfortable 18° so all you need is a light jacket for that occasional gust of wind. I walked daily after work unless I have ‘diversions’. Come weekend, I’d take a bus, any bus, drop off at random and walk my way back. It’s a great way to really see and know a place, and never have I ever felt threatened at any time, even after midnight. I have talked to countless people on the streets, people who were eager to share stories of their Red Guards days to how they tamed their wives; but we all know Shanghainese men are all pussies what receive daily allowances from their ‘subservient’ wives. I have also tasted fares from countless eateries: Mongolian, Xinjiang are the more exotic; dog, grilled, braised, sausaged, kebabed; horse sashimi, and many other unidentified dishes I don’t want to remember. Invariably I discovered many spas where one is served more than relief from tired legs. I will never get tired of walking in China.

I am a self-confessed aficionado of foot massage. It’s my second favorite pastime. I’ve paid RMB5 for an hour and I’ve paid 35; I’ve been massaged by imps not old enough to cook the family’s dinner and vision-challenged men who can wring your foot off your leg easily as snap a chicken’s head. And tell you what, they’re all great, for the conversations, for the 2 hours, seldom do I go for less, of relaxation. My feet have been submerged in black goo, brine, mud, minerals and other unidentifiable stuff of dubious benefits. My nails too, have been softened and sliced off precariously by tools resembling wood chisels sharp enough for surgeons, more times than I can remember. Although I’ve never been nicked, I still cringed every time they do it. I think I moaned more times during a back massage than on bed, and it is a great ice-breaker to eventually come to that; nothing works better than lascivious humor.

There are, too, the famous barbershops of China, devoid of shampoos, scissors or combs. One place I’ll never forget, the girl said to me, ‘Show me your little brother and I’ll do anything you want me to do with it. For an extra RMB30, I’ll do a friend as well’. Too bad I was alone, so I paid her the extra 30 and did it twice. One odd thing I should mention: Are Chinese condoms a little small, girth-wise? I’m not extra ‘big’ or anything, but on occasions I find it difficult to roll down, so much so it needs to be pinched to continue. There are, I swear, pinch scars down my length from those encounters. One time there was this girl whose lack of carnal knowledge extends to even the application. She pulled the still flat rubber wide, like you’re trying to pull a rubber band to loosen it, then pulled it over the crown to the neck, then let go with a loud snap, then rolled down. Ouch! It still brings tears to me eyes. Of course this is an isolated incidence and I must, to be fair, not tarnish all with the same brush. Most encounters I would rate good, some I would even rate great, adapt at giving as good as they received, wild, unbridled, passionate. So there.

[jmc555]

Great use of the language. Wonderfully spiced with the right touch of humor! Most enjoyable writing - keep it coming (no pun intended)

[I<3Ivy]

Very interesting read thus far.

I must admit that I quite like your descriptive-narrative style which evokes feelings of your transient mood at the time.

I'm looking forward to your subsequent chapters.

Pitching my tent and a full eski!

[AD69]

I've a good read. Looking forward to read more.

[mansgp]

Very nice write up

[Cytan7]

Interesting..

[ramses]

Sounds kinda cheap for SH ... but anyway great recap ... thanks bro

[79Guards]

Nice start up, please carry on.

[wheelsforlife]

Had a gd read....

[Faidenk]

Thanks for the comments.

All my previous posts were of real people, real experiences but once the story is told, the story ends. This work will be fictional but based on the same real people and experiences. So the heroine may be based on someone I knew in Beijing, the dinner I had in Shanghai was with another acquaintance, while the broke-up was with yet another person. So one could say this is a piece of docu-fiction.

Also, readers will have to bear with my interspersing the story with unconnected anecdotes, but which I feel adds color to the stories.I don't write with a prepared plot so I stuff them in whenever it crops up.




CHAPTER 3

As we walked, I became acutely aware of her oh-so-soft breast brushing my arm and it felt good. Her incessant chatter slowly fades into the background as I felt my blood pounding in my forehead slowly creating a familiar hunger in my loins. I wanted to hold her, no, consume her, what the fuck, yes, do delicious, dirty things to her, right there. She must have felt something was up, it certainly was up, and yes, it’s hard too. My jacket, being unzipped, was no screen. An instant lowering of her eyes brought confirmation, and she smiled knowingly, and increased pressure on my arm as reward for my being appreciative. It must have been contagious because she kept quiet after that and seemed in a pensive mood. We turned into a short alley, walked in dead silence, and paused briefly at the alley’s exit. We looked into each other’s eyes. The moment froze, it was beautiful and so spontaneous, We pulled each other close and kissed. No awkwardness, no hesitation, so Bogart and Hepburn. There was no doubt she grind her hip ever so discreetly against my bulge while my fingers ran through her soft hair. When we finally untangled our tongues, there was in place a new feel, an understanding of sorts, mutual and needless of explanation. Everything remained the same and yet nothing was left unchanged.

We ate our dinner without haste, every little morsel tasted new and refreshing, as though for the first time. We spoke very little, and only on mundane stuff, treading carefully as though wary of the fragility of the moment. There were stretches when we spoke only with our eyes. At times, it struck me we were being overly melodramatic, it brought to mind a scene from an art movie with Leong Chiu Wai and a busty actress in a cheongsam, her hair permed and swept to the side, so popular in the 50’s, the slow ceiling fan casting bladed shadows on their framed faces, and I had to suppress a giggle.


I have thought oft of Chinese girls and why they are able leave an impression upon me where others had failed. All things being equal, I would venture an uneducated guess it’s the way Chinese women hold themselves. The modern Chinese woman stands just that little prouder, she’s unafraid to speak her mind, and paces herself on a equal footing with her man. Of course Singapore women regard themselves equal but they don’t have to claw hands and nails through centuries of male-dominated bias, having earned it through legislation. The Chinese woman, on the other hand, knows only too well her place in society, but has garnered the confidence with guile, industry and dogged tenacity.

We finished our dinner just as the main evening diners started coming in. People here eat their dinner late. A chill had set in during our dinner. We zipped up our jackets and headed for the train station, hand in hand. It was a nice stroll and we talked of nothing in particular. The acid test would come soon enough.

I lived in Pudong, the ‘new’ Shanghai, separated from Puxi, the ‘old’ by the Huangpu River, while she had her rented apartment several train stops in the opposite direction, in the west, at HongQiao. As we descended on the escalator, my track would be to the right and hers left. I gave her hand a barely perceptible squeeze, she responded by squeezing back hard. Standing on the platform now, I could sense her angst. Her furrowed brows and sad puppy eyes does not bode me well. I whispered in her ear, ‘I understand’ and slipped my mobile number, ‘Call me when you are ready’. Her train was just pulling in, she gave me a prolonged hug until the doors started to beep, then turned to hurry in.

As I watched her train pulled away, I punched a number into my mobile. My group of regular friends would have arrived at the favorite KTV of the month just now and I think the girl who sat with me the last time? Yes, I think I’ll let her sit on my face this time.

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 4

It was just a 5 minutes taxi ride to the KTV, and yes, the party was well in progress. Dices kept getting lost by half-pissed assholes trying to repeat the mummy’s neat trick of stacking the dices in a swirling cup. The girls’ tits have been milked by more hands than a cow on a New Zealand farm and now even the KJ was not spared. Despite her shrieks, I suspect she enjoyed it.

This particular KJ is a looker. Although she tried to dress down to ‘avoid’ the attention, the company-issued uniform was not helping any. It’s designed to reveal cleavages, and thighs. All of us dirty old men would love to ejaculate in her, seriously, and had on many occasions half jesting professed our lust for her. She had brushed us off gracefully but the game goes on, none of us considered the night complete without making a lewd suggestion to her.

Loud laughter greeted me as I stepped in the rather large room. It was gaudily décor’d with an Egyptian theme. King Tut’s mask in a recessed glass panel, wallpaper of hieroglyphs, gold linings, red and green striped cushions, well, the works. Several pairs of BMG speakers adorned the ceilings, I suspect catering to special clients so inclined for chemical alternatives. The main action, from which direction the loudest laughter and protests came from, was being played out by X, whose flushed whiskey-soaked face was now buried between a pair of luscious creamy knockers. The owner of the pair was loudly protesting his face scratched and could he go shave his face in the attached bathroom, which immediately prompted unsolicited help to soothe the discomfort from several quarters.

The KJ got up and as is customary for our group, air-mua’d me both sides of the cheek (we had insisted if she were to serve us). By the time she bid us goodnight, the distance would narrowed and her generous buttocks would be squeezed and appreciated many times over. She poured me a drink. 2 fingers, I instructed, 1 finger of water, 2 cubes of ice. I poured it down the gullet and handed her the empty glass. The same, Baobei. It would take at least another 2 to rid the ache in my balls.

Mummy came in just then. ‘XXX laoban’, she’s getting to be such a good actor I almost felt missed, ‘why are you so late? Here, have a drink with me before I bring you your baobei’.

She’s a character, Mummy, she is. We all agreed we came to this KTV as much for her as the girls it employed. She’s fun, never fails to offer discount no matter how many times it is rejected, and provided service beyond reproach. For us, she had gotten rid of the excess baggage in the room – there used to be an ‘assistant' KJ, and a young man who does nothing but replaces ice, water and generally a sad fucking excuse to soak up tips. We’re not scrooges, but don’t take kindly to being taken for suckers, besides, he takes up space. Mummy's a divorcee, in her early 30’s, pretty, she’s too damned sharp to succumb to any of us old coots without any promise, no, evidence of rock solid security.

My mobile vibrated. It was Xiao Qing. I went into the next empty room to take it. ‘Baobei, what are you doing now?’ Oh, we’re baobei’s now are we? ‘Nothing much, thinking of you. I’m sorry to have offended you but you have to understand. I am man and we are driven by animal instincts. Please forgive me’. The mind games start now, and the chase is on. I love it.

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 5

I’m a man of few words, especially so on the phone, which translated to, according to quite a few of my female acquaintances, ‘unromantic’. Coupled this with a tiny tuff of hair on my chest, it is irrefutable evidence that I am heartless. Nothing I say will change their opinion an iota. Just because I never fail to heap praise on her ‘O, you’re fucking beautiful!’ during the throes of ecstasy doesn’t mean I find them unattractive at other times. Just because I’ve never say ‘I love you’ to any of them doesn’t really mean I don’t. It’s just that the word LOVE means pink, laces, Prince, Cinderella, bridal to the girls while it’s sweat, hard, cum, lust, to us guys, and I’ll not be the one to mislead. Friend once told me an anecdote of bride and bridegroom, they look at each other lovingly as they exchange their vows, the bridegroom prays she’ll stay the same forever, but we all know she’ll transform to a old nag come the 2 kids; as for the bride, he smokes, he farts and scratches his balls when he thought no one is looking, she’ll try her godamnest to change him. With such conflicting fundamentals it is a surprise divorce rates are not escalating more.

‘Baobei, I’m a little tired and there’s a meeting first thing in the morning so I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, alright? I will dream of you’, trying to sound as downtrodden as a man can not getting his rocks off the first date. She should learn her hands-off policy can bring guilt. Besides, I want to get back to the fun. Bye, goodnight, kiss, kiss.

Mummy has assembled a lineup waiting for my approval. All bowed in unison and greeted me as I make my way back to my seat. Hmmm… not bad at all, as usual. A familiar face there, she flashed her teeth hoping for a repeat. If I remembered correctly, she had asked for a ‘small’ tip equivalent to a third of the going price for a quickie. That in itself was not unreasonable had she been more receptive to a CIM. Nah, I’ll pass.

As I scanned up and down the lineup, I spied on a girl with uncharacteristically dark features. Her complexion was fair enough, and you won’t mistake her for anything but Oriental, but there’s something I just can’t pin my fingers on. Was it her raven black hair, or the Madonna-inspired eyebrows that had all the Ah-Lians sporting thick pencil-drawn mustache above the eyes? Or was it that her eyes were slightly more deep-set than the average Chinese? I was intrigued. I turned to Mummy and nodded. Mummy called out, ‘Alisha”. The rest of the girls bowed and filed out of the room. Alisha sat down, without a word held my arm, and rested her cheek for a moment on my shoulder in a gesture of thanks.

It turn out she’s from Xinjiang, so that might explain her exotic DNA. Her family had migrated to Beijing when she was very young and as far as they are concerned, she’s working for a MNC in Shanghai. In fact she was, until she discovered a ethnic minority background puts one way down on the pecking order in Han dominated China, and all the more so here in Shanghai. The locals’ disdain for non-Shanghainese is well-known. For example, a friend’s PA, from Tianjin, was tasked with liaising with the necessary government departments to secure approvals, authorizations and licenses. After a year of given the piss, she left in frustration. My friend, on the advice of his accountant, then hired a Shanghainese, who got everything up and running in 3 months. The new PA even managed to get the officials to accept the company’s bribes, offered previously but subtly rejected.

In any case, Alisha decides Fucks! to this and started working part-time as a KJ, and discovered that hostesses earned more in a month than she did in the MNC in a year. It did not take much to convince her a change of career will do her a world of good both morale-wise as well as financially. And so she exchanged her blue blazer for a evening gown cut that screamed Skin, Tits, Legs. Tonight she had swept her hair to her left, so much like Zhang Zhong Wen. If you don’t who she is, ask your father, just make sure Mom’s not around. I like.

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 6

Close-up, Alisha looks even better. I swear her eyes’ green seen from a certain angle. She kept her dainty hand not an inch away from my cock, tucked as usual to the left, where the hand was so tantalizing close. Playing bluff with the girl sitting to my right, There was electricity every time I leaned forward to scoop up the dice. Jeez! A few more scoops and I’ll get hard. It’s not possible, in spite of her calm demeanor, for her to be completely oblivious to a hard-on fractions of an inch away, the heat alone fry the skin off.

I can’t take 2 blue-balls in a night, I was so tune-up I could stuff my shaft between her Xinjiang lips right now. When Mummy came in, I beckoned her.

Does she do takeout?
She’s new but I’ll ask.

I excused myself and went to the attached bathroom. Mummy was smiling when I came back, so was she.

Why did you take such a long time?

I insinuated it all had to do with her, that I have to clean myself up because it’s such a mess there. She punched me in the arm and I hugged her and stayed that way, her back to me, my arms around her middle, just below her oh-so-soft breasts. My nose bled. She whispered in my ear, all is arranged, and proceeded to clean my ear out with her talented tongue.

We called it a night, everyone had a good time, we always do, and promised to do it again next weekend. 2 of the boys had companions on their arms, the other 2 begged off, meeting tomorrow, you know.

She looked even more stunning out of her gown, I mean in her street clothes. Red blouse, faux leather jacket, black tapered pants with lots of metal studs accentuated her long slim legs. A large red beret was strategically tilted on her black wavy hair. Glamorous, is how I would describe her, head turner even. Damn, she fucking makes me look old in comparison.

What takes a taxi nearly an hour in rush hour to get from where we were in downtown Puxi took only a little under 15 minutes to my humble pad I called home in the shopping district of Pudong. A 5 minutes walk across the road stands the spanking Times Square, not to be mistaken for the Times Sq in Puxi. On the other side of the road is Ba Bai Ban (8 and a half hundred?), Chinese for the No. 1 Yaohan Department Store, banks, the local Hualian Dept Store. A little away are scores of condos, with more in various stages of construction, 5 stars hotels, and parks. Liujiazui is a 5 minutes taxi away is Liujiazui, the financial district, where the awe-inspiring Jinmao towers.

My pad is on the ‘poor’ side of the road, 4 blocks of 22 storey high, grey, nondescript government-built fire-traps one find all over China. I would explain to all who care to listen I love this place for its appeal, and what is there not to find appealing. The neighborhood has all the DVD stores to keep me occupied come the cold winter evenings when my female companions are otherwise preoccupied; small cosy restaurants where the staff knows my favorite dishes, and more than a few ‘barbershops’ if I were so inclined. And yes, there are also 2 sex shops within 2 kilometer radius.

These sex shops sell sex aids, from condoms of various flavors,colors and textures, to knockoff Viagra, Cialis, Panagra; from blowup dolls to wiggly silicon phallus with twin external stimulators to 9-inch boomerang-shaped monsters designed to reach that G-spot. Most of these shops are little more than a hole in the wall but the slightly bigger ones also display lingerie for sale, laced bras with peaks cut off, crotchless panties, garters, gloves. I want to believe these shops are state licensed to educate the people in the fundamentals of sex as much as I do our government’s move to increase GST was to ‘help the poor’.

My apartment is barely 500 sq. ft. with the living room and bedroom taking the lion’s share of space, leaving enough for 2 equally-sized standing room only bathroom/toilet and kitchen. The bare essentials were supplied by the landlady – hot/cold aircons, fridge, microwave, stoves, washing machine even some crockery and basic kitchen utensils, a 20 inch TV, and best of all, a queen-size bed with a decent mattress. I have seen better décor’d apartments during my search but the rent for this left me enough change for the utilities and a couple of bottles of whiskies, and it’s within walking distance to the office, and of course, its appeal.

And so it was at this auspicious hour of 2.30 in the morning that I welcomed this comely young lady into my home away from home. She plonked herself down on the 2-seater sofa, tastefully covered by a shawl bought from those roadside Tibetan vendors, to hide the awful vinyl that had worn away from overuse.

'You want a glass of wine while I take a quick shower, love?' I asked.

I kept several bottles of cheap Chinese wine at the ready, as well as a crate of RMB35 a bottle beer which I had the storekeeper carried up to my pad.

'No, thank you. I don’t drink but for the job'. I suspect she’s Muslim but the Muslims in Xinjiang don’t seem repulsed to alcohol as I had made Muslims out to be. Hell, Xinjiang produces their own brand of beer and spirits. Although Xinjiang is predominantly Muslim, the dear Chairman had 'encouraged' the emigration of the masses, mainly people deemed intellectuals, so every province has its fair share of dilution. Anyhow, I love their dark beer although their spirit still taste of diesel.

I changed into my silk robe, a present from another sweetie from last winter, naked underneath, It felt smooth and very arousing and I walked out to the bathroom with a small tent. She giggled. Under the shower now, I shouted out to invite her in. In a while the door slid open and she came in the steam clouded wrapped in a towel. I had switched the dim light from the ceiling heater on instead of the main one. She put on a shower cap I always kept hanging on a sucker hook so the girls can’t miss them, much like new toothbrushes. She hanged the towel and stepped in the 3 by 3 cubicle. Holy crap! She’s beautiful, and what a rack. I embraced her and the lubrication the foam afforded really felt so erotic a gasp escaped my lips I was already hard enough to pierce a telephone directory. I jammed my tongue down her throat and she returned the passion with equal ardor, lash for lash, bite for bite. Still chewing her lips, I squeezed some body wash and spread it over her back, her breasts. Her nipples were hard and extended and from her moan, sensitive to the touch. I spread the foam downwards, to what I felt was a absence of pussy hair, her mound, and her crack which was now slippery from her pussy juice. I slid a finger and feathered her now swollen clitoris like a butterfly’s wings. She would have collapsed on the floor had I not been clasping her with my other hand. We let the water washed away the foam, break off the kiss and couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom.

[Faidenk]

CHAPTER 7

Nothing, but nothing beats the excitement of that first time. It opens up a world of discovery. F. Gump said something ‘bout chocolates and how you never know what you’re gonna get. Exactly the reason why I love new conquests, or in this case, purchase, transaction or whatever you choose to call it. I have a feeling underneath the covers, this box of chocolates is going to be a very pleasant surprise.

She was trembling slightly hitting the cold covers just after a hot shower. I solved the problem by giving her a bear hug, wrapping my legs round her slender body. Slowly she warmed and turned up to snuggle against my neck. My cock started to defrost and began rearing up against her abdomen. I shifted myself to kiss her and we began a small skirmish which grew to a raging no-holds bar battle. I left a trail of saliva down her neck, along the swell of her breast to envelope her nipple, engorged and extended. I flicked at it with my tongue, I rolled it. First the left nip, then the right. I nibbled to test its ‘bounce’, I teased by licking the areola, careful to avoid the nipple, until she grabbed my hair to redirect my mouth back to its rightful place, all the while moaning as if in agony. Some girls liked having their nipples bitten painfully, but I avoid this unless so prompted.

Further down her legs were pushing, lifting her buttocks up from the bed, alternating with rubbing her thighs together. She was hot and very bothered. I shifted again and trailed my tongue southwards, enjoying the youthful blemish free skin. Her hips rose in anticipation but she kept her thighs together. Just as I suspected, a novice. We’ll see how long you keep that closed. I lingered a while at her navel, although not an erogenous zone, she might enjoy the distraction. She squirmed and giggled at the tickling and I continued my pilgrimage, until I encountered a tiny turf of hair finer than the down of a duck. The static her body absorbed from the beddings made them stand up and all frizzy, I smoothed them down with my face. She still kept them closed so I continue kissing ever so softly down her thigh, while my hand crept up to her honeypot. My mouth removed and no longer an alien intrusion, her thighs relaxed and my fingers went in for the kill. Oh my, it was so wet there was a small damp patch on the bed sheet. The moon was just bright enough to see the glistening. I sat myself next to her, facing her legs and proceeded to softly finger her clitoris, eliciting soft and at times loud moans from her; her head moving to one side, then to the other. She was besides herself now, the sweet agony down there was all she was aware of. Her thighs were now spread as far as they can stretch. She did not notice as I bend forward towards her honeypot with my tongue at the ready. At first lick, her hips shot up and got my face wet with her sweet juice. If she had any more misgivings about having her pussy licked, she did not object now. Her moans went a notch or two up the scale, her breathing heavier and more labored. I want to bring her just to the edge then let her down slowly, a few times before I’ll let her come, but it’s hard to tell with some women because unlike men, their coming mechanism’s a little different from us. Men come with a final explosive climax and all goes limp, women can continue with several climaxes with no obvious symptoms. So if I were to succeed, it would pay to err on the side of prudence.

This game when on and I felt a dull ache in my balls, my loins sought and demanded release. She beat my back in frustrations every time she was let down. Patience, I whispered to her, patience. I stretched my hand under the pillow to retrieve my condom. Kneeling between her legs, condom firmly in place, I held my hard-on like a baton, leaned forward and massaged her clit up and down and with a circular movement until even I could not stand it any more and slammed it in effortlessly. Within a few strokes she picked up the tempo, her tortured breath loud in my ear, and dictating the speed with her hands round my neck. ‘Bao bei! BAO BEI!’ she cried. And I came, strong, spurts after spurts. And drifted off to a deep dreamless darkness.