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01 Eylül 2023, 22:08
Chapter 89 -- Baby Steps with Nguyet</p>
Two weeks ago, Nguyet and I had agreed to hit the brakes in our rousing affair and play coy again. We would pretend not having seen each other for five years, like our fling had never happened. She had still been a virgin back then, until she had relented about four years ago and had let me deflower her. Since then, we had been having an intense, satisfying love affair without too many up or downs, but now we both wanted to kindle each other's sensuality by briefly abstaining, some tentative flirting, more bashful lingering on her part, and gentle coaxing on mine. Since I was seeing Mrs. Yen and my new blind massage friend Hanh quite a bit these days, I actually welcomed the break with Nguyet, because a charming, gently accelerating rapprochement promised utmost pleasures of the flesh.
Two weeks ago, I had sent Nguyet a voucher for a massage from Hanh's hands, which would even include her pussy if she chose so. My former colleague and now real estate broker Nguyet didn't know the snatch-massage part yet, but I couldn't wait to hear from Hanh or Nguyet herself what it had been like and what she thought of it. When I asked Hanh, however, if Nguyet had already showed up, she said 'no', and now the salon was closed for a few days anyway since Hanh, her mom and aunt had gone to attend a wedding in a town about 80 miles away. So I tried to warm Nguyet up a bit by sending her a few titillating messages to eventually to get her to meet me, at least.
In some ways, it was, of course, absurd to try to seduce a woman with whom I'd been having an affair with for over four years, but I found that role-play utterly intriguing. Nguyet had been my colleague at our private English center here in our small town in provincial Vietnam for about three years. She had turned me down several time back then, but always eloquently and charmingly, but our real first time had been completely different from what either of us had imagined: She had assumed she would eventually lie down and spread her legs when, in reality, she had jerked me off in the living room downstairs at her house after an hour of foreplay, before we had gone upstairs to her room, where she had sat on my dick and ridden me into the sunset.
Perhaps because she couldn't wait to have sex again, she had already relented and agreed to meet me this week. I had assumed it would take longer, but I was excited and nervous like we had never had sex before. I couldn't wait to find out what rousing ruse she had thought up, especially since Hanh was out of town. Everything was in Nguyet's hands; the only thing that was truly different now was that she had a two-year-old son, so she couldn't pretend to be a virgin and be completely naïve, but some of the details she had fed me during the last week had already been absolutely beguiling.
She had claimed, for instance, that she hadn't seen a penis yet, as she had always done it in the dark with her dress on. She had also told me that she found sex and penises ?gross'. Of course, the opposite was true: Nguyet had had several little affairs with a bunch of men since we had begun ours, and over time she had notched up her game considerably. But I loved the slightly sad and absurd premise, since a tantalizing sensual arch of tension could develop from there. As far as I knew Nguyet, she would downplay her allure, at first, hide her scintillating details, and hold back with her charms, but how far was she willing to go this week? When I tried to feel her out a bit yesterday, she only told me brusquely ?not to think that I could touch her or see her naked.'
To my obvious question if she would, at least touch me, she only had a rather callous ?maybe' in stock. On the other hand, would she invite me to see her in her model home, where she worked, selling units in the newly-emerging suburbs, if she didn't have some sort of rousing, scintillating play in mind? What seemed important to her, however, was that we wouldn't be seen together. She had declined both of my invitations, the one for lunch as well as the one to join me for coffee. Perhaps that was because we had done that quite a bit during the last four years. Or she wanted everything to be more authentic. But what was she planning?
So, on said day, I drove over to the new suburbs, where her office was in the model house that she used to show costumers the units. While I was driving, I thought about the options we had, but I couldn't figure out what she might be planning. Of course, it was one possibility to just discard our role-play and fuck with impunity, but her last 15 emails hadn't sounded like that was in the cards. And it would have ruined our sophisticated masquerade. We could get naked and fuck on the carpet again, once she had warmed up more. So I prepared myself for about half a dozen rousing, ever-escalating lunch meetings, during which we would develop a new modus vivendi. Which was hotter anyway.
When I stepped inside the model Burdur Escort (http://www.burdurtes.com) home, Nguyet was sitting at her desk, behind her computer. She was wearing one of those Covid-19 face masks, which -- with its vertical wire down the middle -- reminded me of a bra cup. Nguyet looked at me briefly, before she continued typing. Oh, this was not going to be easy: the house was also darker and quieter than usual, and it had a dingy feel to it. Everything, including my beloved young former colleague had a cold aura and seemed repelling. I was happy that Nguyet's defloration -- our real first time -- had been warm and cheerful. But this here wasn't ghastly or horrific, just completely void of hints that anything sensual could develop from it. But maybe that was exactly the intriguing part. Looking at Nguyet, I knew that I would never been able to disconnect or withdraw from her.
Suddenly, she switched off her computer and looked at me.
"Oh, Mister Ben, you are here," she stated the obvious. "We haven't seen each other forever."
"Well, yes, apart from our brief encounter at the pizza place across the street from your house last fall, it's been about four years," I concurred with some sadness in my voice.
"Well, you know, this isn't easy for me," she continued with a lump in her throat.
"Neither is it for me ..." I admitted sheepishly.
Since I didn't know what exactly wasn't easy for her or me, I hesitatingly asked her to elaborate.
"The whole story: I know how much you desire me but I've got to admit that I don't like sex," she lied. "And then you are so ... so tall ... and, yes, well ... big ..." she added, avoided saying 'fat'.
Well, I was quite tall and burly, weighing around twice as much as most Vietnamese. Nguyet was probably around 100 pounds, while I was 235 or so. And I was also about thirteen or fourteen inches taller than she was. I could have continued by saying that sex is exciting, but that seemed too trivial. Instead, I just looked at her for a little, while she was rummaging through her drawers. If someone had told me right at that moment that he was attracted to her like to no one else, I would have declared him insane. First, one couldn't see her face, as she was wearing that mask, and then she was wearing a grey-greenish long dress that was too big for her and reminded me of the Amish women I had met in the Midwest. Her thin, slightly hairy forearms didn't look great either here in the semi-darkness of her dimly lit office.
And, still: on better days in a different dress and more suitable surroundings -- or even naked -- Nguyet was one of the most endearing and enthralling women I had ever met. She was intelligent and clever and had the most beautiful mouth of all that I had seen. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her youthful figure was absolutely beguiling, especially since Nguyet was already 34. Her body had never condoned a single ounce of fat on it; she was muscular without exercising. But, still, she was decidedly feminine. While I hesitate to say so, though, the best part of her was her cunt: her inner labia were black and sharply beveled. Her large, dense, black bush framed her treasure splendidly and offered a great contrast to her light skin. As petite as Nguyet was, her pubic mound and cunt seemed huge, and it didn't matter what pair of panties she was wearing: there were always some hairs sticking out left, right, and at the top. I loved it so much that my desire sometimes made me nauseous.
Yes, her midsection -- which, for the lack of a better comparison, would have fit an animal -- was absolutely beguiling and tantalizing, probably because of the stark contrast that it offered to her cultivated, smart personality, eloquence, and elegance. If someone had shown me a photo just of her pussy and bush, I would have thought 'market woman or factory worker, mid-forties'. But Nguyet was considerably younger, more educated and cultivated than pretty much any other Vietnamese woman I knew. Nguyet had been pretty conscious of her hairy legs and bush in the past but those days were over, thank God! She had had multiple affairs since ours had begun; the most recent with one of my former students, Vu, who was 22 now.
Now she got up and coldly ripped me away from my reveries. Somewhat surprisingly, she took off the mask and suggested to go to the kitchen upstairs, so that she could fix us something easy and quick to eat. Now that she was standing, I saw that her dress almost went down to her ankles. It was definitely too big -- but had her mother, who tailored all her clothes -- just made it for this occasion here, today? The vertical white trimming down her chest reminded me again of some Mennonite woman's dress, but when she was redoing her ponytail, I could at least sense her small breasts, before we silently went upstairs together.
In the kitchen, she grabbed a few things out of the fridge and turned on the stove. It looked like we were going to have fried rice, which was fine. She asked Burdur Escort Bayan (http://www.burdurtes.com) me if I wanted something to drink and handed me a cold Pepsi and a glass with ice after I had nodded. This still wasn't particularly warm or endearing, but with the cold Pepsi, at least the coldness was gone. I wondered why her mother had tailored the dress too large; the only thing I could think of was that Nguyet wanted to look as unsexy as possibly. If it was that: she had succeeded.
But, somehow that was part of our masquerade: We had met for countless outrageous erotic adventures, for which we had dressed up, thought up plots, and carefully picked the perfect locations, but now our courtship display was going to take on a different shape to spice everything up. In a few weeks, we would be back where our relationship had already taken us, but I liked our hiatus already, as I wasn't able to tell how far Nguyet was ready to go that day. When the vegetables were done, she had given the pre-cooked rice into the wok and now she was stirring some more. Eventually, she cracked three eggs over everything, stirred some more and switched off the gas, before she put the remaining eggs back into the fridge and turned around:
"You like fried rice, don't you?"
I could have asked facetiously what she would do if I didn't but only nodded and asked if I could smoke. She made a face but procured an old ashtray from the shelf and opened the window. I could hear the large trucks bump along the highway but, otherwise, it was completely still here in the house.
"Tell me a little about your son!" I requested.
After she had stirred the food one final time, she filled two bowls and put them on the table. When I asked her for ketchup, she made a face again but went back to the fridge and got me some.
"What do you want to know?" she asked back languidly, as if she wasn't in the mood to talk at all.
"Well, everything. We haven't seen each other for so long ..." I lied. "Are you happy with your decision of getting pregnant without being married?" I asked more to the point.
And so she began to tell me the story again how she had met the guy and coaxed him into getting her pregnant. I admired her beautiful face and what I could see of her body while she was rehashing the story. But her dress was really too large and covered all interesting details, apart from her feet -- which I wasn't into, though. From time to time, she rubbed her hands nervously on her legs and fiddled with the trimming and the buttons on the front of her dress, but she didn't seem ready to open one or two.
Thank God, I knew what she looked and smelled like under her dress and how it felt to touch her. I also knew what her wheezing, panting and orgasmic screams sounded like and what her favorite positions were and how she initiated and orchestrated outlandish sensual adventures. And yet I had the feeling to be sitting across from an inexperienced woman, who was torn between trying sex and being too inhibited to do so. Nguyet had been exactly that woman for 15 years -- from her puberty to close to her 30th birthday, and she seemed to have fallen back to five years rather effortlessly, even though she must have been proud and relieved that those days were over and that she could move about in the world much more freely.
"Mister Ben ..." she began but then stopped again.
I raised my eyebrows to encourage her to say more.
"Do you want to smoke again?" she asked and put the ashtray back in front of me.
I didn't think that that had been what she originally wanted to say, but since I liked the post-lunch cigarette like no other, I obliged. She poured what was left in the Pepsi can in my glass and got two more ice cubes from the freezer section of the fridge. When she was standing next to me, I gently caressed her back through the thin fabric of her dress. I couldn't feel a bra-fastener but my blood slowly began to boil.
"Just sit down here on my leg," I said, patting my thigh.
She hesitated, but got away and sat down across from me again. She sighed and rubbed her hands again on her legs. She looked down on herself and put some strands of hair behind her ears. She was super convincing in her coy, almost virgin role. She exuded that she wanted to have sex but didn't have the courage to say so.
"Have you been to that massage parlor yet?" I wanted to know.
Like I said, I had bought her a voucher for a massage -- which possibly included her pussy -- from Hanh's tender hands.
"Oh, Mister Ben, I would have to undress there, don't you think?" she demurred.
"But not totally naked. You could leave your panties on if you want. And the masseuse is blind, anyway. That's why I bought the voucher ... to support her," I told Nguyet the half-truth.
Nguyet's ears perked up: "Oh, I didn't know that ..."
She thought for a few seconds and then asked me: "Do you know her?"
Well, I couldn't tell Nguyet how well I knew my new blind Escort Burdur (http://www.burdurtes.com) massage friend -- nor that Nguyet would get her pussy polished there -- but I admitted that I was acquainted with Hanh:
"Fleetingly. But I want to support her, as she can't go out in the world and get any job," I replied, kinda overly dramatic.
This seemed to make sense to Nguyet, and so she promised to get a massage the following week. I immediately imagined Hanh massaging Nguyet's absolutely divine pussy and wished I could be there.
"Well, Mrs. Nguyet, let's go over there to the bed!" I suggested to move our choreography along.
She shot me a suspicious look but then got up. I mean, we had to get started somehow.
"I need to go to the restroom first," she was buying time.
Contrary to my nature and habits, I didn't ask if I could watch or even join her but went straight over to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. She had already pulled the curtains closed, and the semi-darkness reminded me of what she had told me a few weeks back: that she had never seen a penis, as she had gotten pregnant in the dark, wearing her dress but no panties. When she came back from the bathroom, she had a fresh, folded towel in her hand and hesitatingly sat down next to me.
"Well, Mister Ben, I k-kinda know w-what you w-want ..." she stammered.
"But?"
"I c-can't," she assured me.
"Every healthy young woman can do that. And you are in your prime ..." I told her, as I couldn't think of anything better.
She fiddled with her buttons again, cleared her throat, and said:
"I know. But I can't undress in front of you ... I mean, you mustn't see me naked ..."
I still don't know why I didn't propose that she lie down and I would just come on top of her. Maybe because that would upset her, as it would sound like I didn't appreciate her body and would just use it for a vessel of my own satisfaction. I did think that ruse was hot, though, and definitely wanted to try it one day. But not now. And so I suggested we proceed in baby steps. I turned sideways a bit and put her hand on my thigh. And then mine on hers. She didn't flinch.
"Can you feel the energy flowing back and forth between us?" I asked her, even though that was somewhat corny.
Nguyet focused for a minute but then shook her head. I reached down to the hem of her dress, but then she stopped me.
"You want to undress me, huh? See me naked ..."
"Of course. That would be great. I know you don't believe me, but I still think that you're one of the most beautiful women who has ever walked the face of the planet ..."
"You're only saying that so that I take off my dress," she countered.
"Oh, no. It's true. Believe me ... but, sure, I desperately want to see your body ... touch you ... kiss ... smell ... and, yes ... fuck you."
I just didn't like saying 'having sex with you'. I wouldn't have said 'sleep with you', either. Nguyet blushed, swallowed with her mouth closed, and looked at me.
"What did you mean by 'starting slowly' earlier?"
To answer her, I stroked her leg and moved a tad closer. Then I caressed her forearms and eventually touched her flat belly. Curiously, she didn't protest but just watched what I was doing.
"And you've never seen a penis, really?"
She shook her head again: "I've told you already ..." she reminded me again.
"Yeah, I know. But I can't believe it. Have you ever held one in your hand, though?" I asked as my rod was pumping itself up inside my pants.
I didn't know if she had already seen it, but the gentle touches as well as looking at and sitting next to her had aroused me quite a bit.
"Well, once I spent the whole night with my colleague ... we had had sex before we went to sleep, but then he was rubbing his thing on me the whole night, under the sheets. He wouldn't stop until I took his penis in my hand ..." she admitted.
This could actually have been true, so I kept going.
"And then? What did you do with it? Did you jerk him off?"
At first, she pretended not to know what that was but then added that he, when his dick had been properly stiff, had just pushed it inside her. She added that she couldn't sleep the whole night, but then he still had come on top of her once more in the morning, banging her for a third time.
"But you wanted to get pregnant, didn't you?" I broached the subject again.
"Well, yes. That's why I played along. Everything made me really uncomfortable."
"But you never grew curious what a penis looks like?"
"I can kinda imagine it. But then I can't ask a man to show me his thing ..."
"Sure, you could. Most of them would actually show you their cock without hesitation," I assured her.
"Well, I guess it's just not that important to me," she lied but added that the only part she liked had been when she had felt her colleague's dick grow in her hand.
"Yes, that was the best part," she nodded, and I detected a faint smile on her face.
Finally.
"Did that feel like you had power over him?" I wanted to know.
"Yeah, I guess. Perhaps I liked that."
I looked down at my crotch and then up again at her face: "Have you noticed what power you're exerting again?"
Two weeks ago, Nguyet and I had agreed to hit the brakes in our rousing affair and play coy again. We would pretend not having seen each other for five years, like our fling had never happened. She had still been a virgin back then, until she had relented about four years ago and had let me deflower her. Since then, we had been having an intense, satisfying love affair without too many up or downs, but now we both wanted to kindle each other's sensuality by briefly abstaining, some tentative flirting, more bashful lingering on her part, and gentle coaxing on mine. Since I was seeing Mrs. Yen and my new blind massage friend Hanh quite a bit these days, I actually welcomed the break with Nguyet, because a charming, gently accelerating rapprochement promised utmost pleasures of the flesh.
Two weeks ago, I had sent Nguyet a voucher for a massage from Hanh's hands, which would even include her pussy if she chose so. My former colleague and now real estate broker Nguyet didn't know the snatch-massage part yet, but I couldn't wait to hear from Hanh or Nguyet herself what it had been like and what she thought of it. When I asked Hanh, however, if Nguyet had already showed up, she said 'no', and now the salon was closed for a few days anyway since Hanh, her mom and aunt had gone to attend a wedding in a town about 80 miles away. So I tried to warm Nguyet up a bit by sending her a few titillating messages to eventually to get her to meet me, at least.
In some ways, it was, of course, absurd to try to seduce a woman with whom I'd been having an affair with for over four years, but I found that role-play utterly intriguing. Nguyet had been my colleague at our private English center here in our small town in provincial Vietnam for about three years. She had turned me down several time back then, but always eloquently and charmingly, but our real first time had been completely different from what either of us had imagined: She had assumed she would eventually lie down and spread her legs when, in reality, she had jerked me off in the living room downstairs at her house after an hour of foreplay, before we had gone upstairs to her room, where she had sat on my dick and ridden me into the sunset.
Perhaps because she couldn't wait to have sex again, she had already relented and agreed to meet me this week. I had assumed it would take longer, but I was excited and nervous like we had never had sex before. I couldn't wait to find out what rousing ruse she had thought up, especially since Hanh was out of town. Everything was in Nguyet's hands; the only thing that was truly different now was that she had a two-year-old son, so she couldn't pretend to be a virgin and be completely naïve, but some of the details she had fed me during the last week had already been absolutely beguiling.
She had claimed, for instance, that she hadn't seen a penis yet, as she had always done it in the dark with her dress on. She had also told me that she found sex and penises ?gross'. Of course, the opposite was true: Nguyet had had several little affairs with a bunch of men since we had begun ours, and over time she had notched up her game considerably. But I loved the slightly sad and absurd premise, since a tantalizing sensual arch of tension could develop from there. As far as I knew Nguyet, she would downplay her allure, at first, hide her scintillating details, and hold back with her charms, but how far was she willing to go this week? When I tried to feel her out a bit yesterday, she only told me brusquely ?not to think that I could touch her or see her naked.'
To my obvious question if she would, at least touch me, she only had a rather callous ?maybe' in stock. On the other hand, would she invite me to see her in her model home, where she worked, selling units in the newly-emerging suburbs, if she didn't have some sort of rousing, scintillating play in mind? What seemed important to her, however, was that we wouldn't be seen together. She had declined both of my invitations, the one for lunch as well as the one to join me for coffee. Perhaps that was because we had done that quite a bit during the last four years. Or she wanted everything to be more authentic. But what was she planning?
So, on said day, I drove over to the new suburbs, where her office was in the model house that she used to show costumers the units. While I was driving, I thought about the options we had, but I couldn't figure out what she might be planning. Of course, it was one possibility to just discard our role-play and fuck with impunity, but her last 15 emails hadn't sounded like that was in the cards. And it would have ruined our sophisticated masquerade. We could get naked and fuck on the carpet again, once she had warmed up more. So I prepared myself for about half a dozen rousing, ever-escalating lunch meetings, during which we would develop a new modus vivendi. Which was hotter anyway.
When I stepped inside the model Burdur Escort (http://www.burdurtes.com) home, Nguyet was sitting at her desk, behind her computer. She was wearing one of those Covid-19 face masks, which -- with its vertical wire down the middle -- reminded me of a bra cup. Nguyet looked at me briefly, before she continued typing. Oh, this was not going to be easy: the house was also darker and quieter than usual, and it had a dingy feel to it. Everything, including my beloved young former colleague had a cold aura and seemed repelling. I was happy that Nguyet's defloration -- our real first time -- had been warm and cheerful. But this here wasn't ghastly or horrific, just completely void of hints that anything sensual could develop from it. But maybe that was exactly the intriguing part. Looking at Nguyet, I knew that I would never been able to disconnect or withdraw from her.
Suddenly, she switched off her computer and looked at me.
"Oh, Mister Ben, you are here," she stated the obvious. "We haven't seen each other forever."
"Well, yes, apart from our brief encounter at the pizza place across the street from your house last fall, it's been about four years," I concurred with some sadness in my voice.
"Well, you know, this isn't easy for me," she continued with a lump in her throat.
"Neither is it for me ..." I admitted sheepishly.
Since I didn't know what exactly wasn't easy for her or me, I hesitatingly asked her to elaborate.
"The whole story: I know how much you desire me but I've got to admit that I don't like sex," she lied. "And then you are so ... so tall ... and, yes, well ... big ..." she added, avoided saying 'fat'.
Well, I was quite tall and burly, weighing around twice as much as most Vietnamese. Nguyet was probably around 100 pounds, while I was 235 or so. And I was also about thirteen or fourteen inches taller than she was. I could have continued by saying that sex is exciting, but that seemed too trivial. Instead, I just looked at her for a little, while she was rummaging through her drawers. If someone had told me right at that moment that he was attracted to her like to no one else, I would have declared him insane. First, one couldn't see her face, as she was wearing that mask, and then she was wearing a grey-greenish long dress that was too big for her and reminded me of the Amish women I had met in the Midwest. Her thin, slightly hairy forearms didn't look great either here in the semi-darkness of her dimly lit office.
And, still: on better days in a different dress and more suitable surroundings -- or even naked -- Nguyet was one of the most endearing and enthralling women I had ever met. She was intelligent and clever and had the most beautiful mouth of all that I had seen. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her youthful figure was absolutely beguiling, especially since Nguyet was already 34. Her body had never condoned a single ounce of fat on it; she was muscular without exercising. But, still, she was decidedly feminine. While I hesitate to say so, though, the best part of her was her cunt: her inner labia were black and sharply beveled. Her large, dense, black bush framed her treasure splendidly and offered a great contrast to her light skin. As petite as Nguyet was, her pubic mound and cunt seemed huge, and it didn't matter what pair of panties she was wearing: there were always some hairs sticking out left, right, and at the top. I loved it so much that my desire sometimes made me nauseous.
Yes, her midsection -- which, for the lack of a better comparison, would have fit an animal -- was absolutely beguiling and tantalizing, probably because of the stark contrast that it offered to her cultivated, smart personality, eloquence, and elegance. If someone had shown me a photo just of her pussy and bush, I would have thought 'market woman or factory worker, mid-forties'. But Nguyet was considerably younger, more educated and cultivated than pretty much any other Vietnamese woman I knew. Nguyet had been pretty conscious of her hairy legs and bush in the past but those days were over, thank God! She had had multiple affairs since ours had begun; the most recent with one of my former students, Vu, who was 22 now.
Now she got up and coldly ripped me away from my reveries. Somewhat surprisingly, she took off the mask and suggested to go to the kitchen upstairs, so that she could fix us something easy and quick to eat. Now that she was standing, I saw that her dress almost went down to her ankles. It was definitely too big -- but had her mother, who tailored all her clothes -- just made it for this occasion here, today? The vertical white trimming down her chest reminded me again of some Mennonite woman's dress, but when she was redoing her ponytail, I could at least sense her small breasts, before we silently went upstairs together.
In the kitchen, she grabbed a few things out of the fridge and turned on the stove. It looked like we were going to have fried rice, which was fine. She asked Burdur Escort Bayan (http://www.burdurtes.com) me if I wanted something to drink and handed me a cold Pepsi and a glass with ice after I had nodded. This still wasn't particularly warm or endearing, but with the cold Pepsi, at least the coldness was gone. I wondered why her mother had tailored the dress too large; the only thing I could think of was that Nguyet wanted to look as unsexy as possibly. If it was that: she had succeeded.
But, somehow that was part of our masquerade: We had met for countless outrageous erotic adventures, for which we had dressed up, thought up plots, and carefully picked the perfect locations, but now our courtship display was going to take on a different shape to spice everything up. In a few weeks, we would be back where our relationship had already taken us, but I liked our hiatus already, as I wasn't able to tell how far Nguyet was ready to go that day. When the vegetables were done, she had given the pre-cooked rice into the wok and now she was stirring some more. Eventually, she cracked three eggs over everything, stirred some more and switched off the gas, before she put the remaining eggs back into the fridge and turned around:
"You like fried rice, don't you?"
I could have asked facetiously what she would do if I didn't but only nodded and asked if I could smoke. She made a face but procured an old ashtray from the shelf and opened the window. I could hear the large trucks bump along the highway but, otherwise, it was completely still here in the house.
"Tell me a little about your son!" I requested.
After she had stirred the food one final time, she filled two bowls and put them on the table. When I asked her for ketchup, she made a face again but went back to the fridge and got me some.
"What do you want to know?" she asked back languidly, as if she wasn't in the mood to talk at all.
"Well, everything. We haven't seen each other for so long ..." I lied. "Are you happy with your decision of getting pregnant without being married?" I asked more to the point.
And so she began to tell me the story again how she had met the guy and coaxed him into getting her pregnant. I admired her beautiful face and what I could see of her body while she was rehashing the story. But her dress was really too large and covered all interesting details, apart from her feet -- which I wasn't into, though. From time to time, she rubbed her hands nervously on her legs and fiddled with the trimming and the buttons on the front of her dress, but she didn't seem ready to open one or two.
Thank God, I knew what she looked and smelled like under her dress and how it felt to touch her. I also knew what her wheezing, panting and orgasmic screams sounded like and what her favorite positions were and how she initiated and orchestrated outlandish sensual adventures. And yet I had the feeling to be sitting across from an inexperienced woman, who was torn between trying sex and being too inhibited to do so. Nguyet had been exactly that woman for 15 years -- from her puberty to close to her 30th birthday, and she seemed to have fallen back to five years rather effortlessly, even though she must have been proud and relieved that those days were over and that she could move about in the world much more freely.
"Mister Ben ..." she began but then stopped again.
I raised my eyebrows to encourage her to say more.
"Do you want to smoke again?" she asked and put the ashtray back in front of me.
I didn't think that that had been what she originally wanted to say, but since I liked the post-lunch cigarette like no other, I obliged. She poured what was left in the Pepsi can in my glass and got two more ice cubes from the freezer section of the fridge. When she was standing next to me, I gently caressed her back through the thin fabric of her dress. I couldn't feel a bra-fastener but my blood slowly began to boil.
"Just sit down here on my leg," I said, patting my thigh.
She hesitated, but got away and sat down across from me again. She sighed and rubbed her hands again on her legs. She looked down on herself and put some strands of hair behind her ears. She was super convincing in her coy, almost virgin role. She exuded that she wanted to have sex but didn't have the courage to say so.
"Have you been to that massage parlor yet?" I wanted to know.
Like I said, I had bought her a voucher for a massage -- which possibly included her pussy -- from Hanh's tender hands.
"Oh, Mister Ben, I would have to undress there, don't you think?" she demurred.
"But not totally naked. You could leave your panties on if you want. And the masseuse is blind, anyway. That's why I bought the voucher ... to support her," I told Nguyet the half-truth.
Nguyet's ears perked up: "Oh, I didn't know that ..."
She thought for a few seconds and then asked me: "Do you know her?"
Well, I couldn't tell Nguyet how well I knew my new blind Escort Burdur (http://www.burdurtes.com) massage friend -- nor that Nguyet would get her pussy polished there -- but I admitted that I was acquainted with Hanh:
"Fleetingly. But I want to support her, as she can't go out in the world and get any job," I replied, kinda overly dramatic.
This seemed to make sense to Nguyet, and so she promised to get a massage the following week. I immediately imagined Hanh massaging Nguyet's absolutely divine pussy and wished I could be there.
"Well, Mrs. Nguyet, let's go over there to the bed!" I suggested to move our choreography along.
She shot me a suspicious look but then got up. I mean, we had to get started somehow.
"I need to go to the restroom first," she was buying time.
Contrary to my nature and habits, I didn't ask if I could watch or even join her but went straight over to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. She had already pulled the curtains closed, and the semi-darkness reminded me of what she had told me a few weeks back: that she had never seen a penis, as she had gotten pregnant in the dark, wearing her dress but no panties. When she came back from the bathroom, she had a fresh, folded towel in her hand and hesitatingly sat down next to me.
"Well, Mister Ben, I k-kinda know w-what you w-want ..." she stammered.
"But?"
"I c-can't," she assured me.
"Every healthy young woman can do that. And you are in your prime ..." I told her, as I couldn't think of anything better.
She fiddled with her buttons again, cleared her throat, and said:
"I know. But I can't undress in front of you ... I mean, you mustn't see me naked ..."
I still don't know why I didn't propose that she lie down and I would just come on top of her. Maybe because that would upset her, as it would sound like I didn't appreciate her body and would just use it for a vessel of my own satisfaction. I did think that ruse was hot, though, and definitely wanted to try it one day. But not now. And so I suggested we proceed in baby steps. I turned sideways a bit and put her hand on my thigh. And then mine on hers. She didn't flinch.
"Can you feel the energy flowing back and forth between us?" I asked her, even though that was somewhat corny.
Nguyet focused for a minute but then shook her head. I reached down to the hem of her dress, but then she stopped me.
"You want to undress me, huh? See me naked ..."
"Of course. That would be great. I know you don't believe me, but I still think that you're one of the most beautiful women who has ever walked the face of the planet ..."
"You're only saying that so that I take off my dress," she countered.
"Oh, no. It's true. Believe me ... but, sure, I desperately want to see your body ... touch you ... kiss ... smell ... and, yes ... fuck you."
I just didn't like saying 'having sex with you'. I wouldn't have said 'sleep with you', either. Nguyet blushed, swallowed with her mouth closed, and looked at me.
"What did you mean by 'starting slowly' earlier?"
To answer her, I stroked her leg and moved a tad closer. Then I caressed her forearms and eventually touched her flat belly. Curiously, she didn't protest but just watched what I was doing.
"And you've never seen a penis, really?"
She shook her head again: "I've told you already ..." she reminded me again.
"Yeah, I know. But I can't believe it. Have you ever held one in your hand, though?" I asked as my rod was pumping itself up inside my pants.
I didn't know if she had already seen it, but the gentle touches as well as looking at and sitting next to her had aroused me quite a bit.
"Well, once I spent the whole night with my colleague ... we had had sex before we went to sleep, but then he was rubbing his thing on me the whole night, under the sheets. He wouldn't stop until I took his penis in my hand ..." she admitted.
This could actually have been true, so I kept going.
"And then? What did you do with it? Did you jerk him off?"
At first, she pretended not to know what that was but then added that he, when his dick had been properly stiff, had just pushed it inside her. She added that she couldn't sleep the whole night, but then he still had come on top of her once more in the morning, banging her for a third time.
"But you wanted to get pregnant, didn't you?" I broached the subject again.
"Well, yes. That's why I played along. Everything made me really uncomfortable."
"But you never grew curious what a penis looks like?"
"I can kinda imagine it. But then I can't ask a man to show me his thing ..."
"Sure, you could. Most of them would actually show you their cock without hesitation," I assured her.
"Well, I guess it's just not that important to me," she lied but added that the only part she liked had been when she had felt her colleague's dick grow in her hand.
"Yes, that was the best part," she nodded, and I detected a faint smile on her face.
Finally.
"Did that feel like you had power over him?" I wanted to know.
"Yeah, I guess. Perhaps I liked that."
I looked down at my crotch and then up again at her face: "Have you noticed what power you're exerting again?"