Singapore Girl - 1
They say a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. But I can't
claim to be a gentleman. Besides, all bets are off when the
woman But that comes later.
And oh, yes this is a true story. Really happened. Only her
name has been changed. Not to protect her she did not need
protection but to keep my ass out of court.
I met June (not her real name) in a Laundromat in the Village.
I had seen her there a few times and couldn't help noticing.
For one thing, she was female and most of the clientele was
male and gay. I had outgrown my homophobia years before
and on the rare occasions when one of the guys cruised me,
I told him (truthfully) that I was flattered and declined.
Hell, how could I not be flattered? There were a lot of devastatingly
good-looking guys around who were obviously gay, and someone
had found me attractive enough to make a pass; I had to be
flattered. In a way, that was how June and I got to know each
other. She overheard me talking with Jimmy, one of the other
long-time customers. He was surprised at my equanimity
when a newcomer had cruised me. Jimmy told me what a lovely
way it was to decline. I told him it was simply the truth.
Amazing, isn't it that faggots should find the truth
just as lovely as we unrepentant straights do? Golly, maybe
they're almost human.
June was decidedly female. She was only about five feet
tall, with jet black hair in a pageboy cut framing a rounded,
pretty face. Her black eyes, behind her eyeglasses, were
wide for an oriental and if there was a fault to her face,
it was that her lips were a bit too generous and lush. Some
fault, huh? Anyway, about five minute after the chat with
Jimmy, June asked me for help with one of the dryers. I've
got a knack for mechanical things (heh!) and I was glad to
have a way to get closer to her.
She was wearing a light windbreaker, half-unzipped, over
a loose white blouse and a pair of spray-on jeans. Her boots
were a half-heel style that wasn't flat and wasn't
high-spiked. She had a cute ass, but the way she carried
herself, for all her perkiness and cuteness, wasn't
inviting; businesslike.
I jimmied the dryer and told her that I'd seen her there
a few times. "I've seen you, too, " she
said, forthrightly. June was, I would learn, very forthright
in almost every way. "And I've had trouble with
these machines before." She slapped the dryer and
laughed. She had a great laugh. I asked why she hadn't
asked my help before.
"I see how well you get along with the gay boys, I thought
you were gay." "By that logic, if you see me getting
along with a Puerto Rican, you should think I'm Puerto
Rican." "But how can you stand the gay boys?
I hate lesbians!" "I don't care who or what
they sleep with if I'm not there. And since this is a
Laundromat and not a waterbed ... " She laughed again.
As I said a great laugh.
In the course of conversing, between the two of us, we found
some excuse for me to come back to her place for drinks. I
arrived at ten p.m., hoping for she had a gorgeous ass.
June occupied the entire third and fourth floors of a brownstone
on Greenwich Avenue, not far from Tenth Street. In the sitting
room on the fourth floor, over white wine on wall-lining
sectionals, listening to some soft rock, she explained
that she was the New York office of a Scandinavian import-export
firm. About half of the third floor was offices she had her
teletype and phones and files there and the rest of the third
floor was a formal dining/conference room, a half-bath
and a kitchen. The fourth floor, in addition to the living
room, had a television room, a bedroom and a full bathroom.
We got more at ease with each other. I learned she was ethnic
Chinese, from Singapore, and had lived in Connecticut
when she first came to the United States. Before that, she'd
lived in Scandinavia for a few years, trying to improve
her position with the ex-im firm she'd joined in Singapore.
I learned a little bit about how tough it was to be new to America
and alone, even with the advantages of a legitimate working
visa and deep-pocketed financial backing. Soon we were
snuggled together under a blanket on the sectional as with
all Village apartments, the heat was inadequate; I think
it's a law in New York and then we were cuddling and then
we were kissing. Her lips were as warm and moist as I'd
imagined, and her kisses were just the right combination
of passion and sweetness. Soon, she was straddling my thigh
as we clinched and I could feel her moisture through her
jeans and mine. I unbuttoned her blouse and mouthed her
breasts through her bra. She was decidedly Chinese in that
her tits were shallow and firm, with nipples that responded
slowly but when they did, they were outstanding! I raised
the bra to get at her bared breasts and she ran her hands through
my hair as I licked and sucked at her tits.
"Let's go to bed, " she said. "Here,
since I have to send a Telex at four-thirty this morning."
Forthright and businesslike, op. cit.
I agreed of course! but little did I suspect what would come
next: June proceeded to prepare for bed as if she'd
known me fore years. You probably know the routine: remove
the make-up, take a shower (in her case, a shallow bath),
etc.
I was somewhat at a loss for what to do, so I hung around and
watched it. All of it. (Well, almost all; even June didn't
want to be watched doing Some Things.) As the make-up came
off, so did the determined businesswoman face. She looked
younger than her twenty-eight years; maybe twenty or twenty-one.
But believe me, when she came to bed, it was worth the wait.
She came into the bedroom wearing a robe and a flannel nightgown.
(Remember: no heat.) "Why are you dressed?"
she asked, and quickly removed the robe and only the robe
and slipped into the bed. She threw back the coverlet, comforter
and sheet to expose half of the (queen-size) bed and patted
the pillow. "Come on or did you change your mind?"
I knelt on the bed, straddling her thighs, and laid myself
upon her from above the covers as lightly as possible and
began kissing her again. In moments, she was stripping
off my turtleneck sweater and undershirt and fumbling
with my belt. Every now and then, she'd caress my balls
and my cock through my jeans and she'd squirm. I slid
to the end of the bed, stood and stripped and then I wormed
my way under the covers, licking and kissing and nibbling
as I went. I didn't bother removing her nightgown;
I simply pushed it up to her waist. I grabbed her hips and
pulled her firm ass to the edge of the mattress.
Kneeling on the wide-planked pine floor I began to eat her.
She shivered when I licked the insides of her thighs, and
I could smell the sweet, healthy, lusty aroma of her cunt
juices long before I reached it. I slid my hands under her
ass, cupping her hard cheeks and lifting her towards my
mouth. I dove in.
Through the muffling of the blanket, I could hear her shrieks
match her writhing as she came. And came. And CAME! Her juices
weren't merely sufficient or ample; they were copious!
She flowed and flowed and flowed.
(Note: Some people will tell you that all oriental women
are bald Down There. Not true. A few are, completely. Some
have only sparse hair. But all have this in common in my experience
What hair there is, is straight, fine and soft.) When I finally
came up for air, the sheets were soaked, her cunt hair was
soaked and my beard was soaked.
June lay there and panted massaging her tits and rubbing
her nipples.
"Nobody ever did that before!" "No one
ever ate that gorgeous cunt of yours?" I couldn't
believe that.
"Oh, sure, " she said, "like it was a favor
but you seem to enjoy it!" "I love to eat you!"
I said. "It turns me on a lot!" She paused, gripping
her nipples. "I I want to suck you..." I heard
the hesitation in her voice and took a guess. "It's
not your favorite thing, is it?" She hesitated; that
answered me. "Don't worry about it, "
I said, pulling the covers back the rest of the way. Her nightgown
was gone, removed and discarded at some point when my attention
was concentrated far south. "What I want to do right
now is fuck you." She lay there, fingers clenching
her nipples, and seemed to tense all over and then she shivered,
unmistakably cumming.
"Ooooooo I like it when you talk dirty to me. What are
you going to do?" I reached down and lifted her legs
till they were on my shoulders. I was standing bare on the
floor beside the bed. Remember: Her sweet, hot ass was at
the edge of the bed. I leaned forward, watching for any sign
of discomfort. I needn't have worried; she was very
flexible. My posture forced her legs back and her cunt higher.
When my face was next to hers, I locked my gaze on hers. Her
lovely eyes were heavy-lidded with lust. I reached down,
took one of her hands in mine and lead it to my cock. My dick
is about six inches long and on the thick side. My cock was
harder than it had ever been, even with that seventeen-year-old
Homecoming Queen from Ohio. She grabbed and pulled on it,
short strokes that told me of her hunger.
I bent farther and kissed her lips, then her breasts.
"What am I going to do?" I nipped her nipple lightly
between my teeth. She shivered again. "I'm going
to fuck you!" She was bent almost double, her thighs
pressing her nipples, when I introduced the head of my cock
into her cunt. She shrieked when I was halfway in; I slammed
the rest of the way and ground our pubic bones together and
she came again.
"Say dirty things to me!" She gasped desperately.
I obliged as I fucked her. I don't pretend to be a great
lover; she was ready and eager to cum a great deal and she
did, over and over again. When I finally relaxed and let
myself cum, she was nearly inert except for her cunt and
in a state of constant orgasm. When I collapsed beside her,
I knew I had found someone special.
Little did I know that so far, June had been as conventional
as she ever got to be.
[more to cum]
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