Текст книги "Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2"

Автор книги: Miss Izzy

Соавторы: Suzanna Kusuma,Amir Muhammed,John Burdett,Lee Yew Moon,Andrew Penney,O Thiam Chin,Dawn Farnham,Amirul Ruslan,Ricky Low,Richard Lord
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

FEMME FATALE
O Thiam Chin, Singapore

Revenge was topmost on Pearlyn’s mind as she entered the master bedroom.

She had done a quick headcount of the number of people in today’s sex group. Eight men, five women. Thirteen, a good number—and ironical too, she thought, chuckling to herself.

As the men and women single-filed into the bedroom, small talk and suppressed whispers continued to be exchanged. One of the men, the owner of this five-room flat in Jurong, had switched on the CD player and a soft, ethereal tune began to play. The bedroom smelled of cheap aromatherapy oils, and several stubs of candles were lighted around the room, throwing waving, elongated human shadows on the walls. The thick, velvety curtains had been drawn shut. Pearlyn hated the pervasive aromatherapeutic smell that plagued the room, but she chose to grin and bear the odours silently.

The men were the first to take off their clothes, dropping their pants and removing their light-coloured polo-tees or long-sleeved shirts in a haste, impatient to start the session. The women, on the other hand, fumbled with their tight skirts and bra-straps. A few eager men even assisted some of the women with their undressing.

Pearlyn took her time as she undressed, wanting to seize the opportunity to focus the lusty eyes of the men in the bedroom on her. She knew her body well enough to use it to its advantages—her smooth, slender legs, her 36D-sized breasts, and her shaved pussy. It was the latter asset, that shaved pussy, that turned the men on; she knew men were attracted by it, its bareness conveying a sense of vulnerability and virginity that drew men to it. Pearlyn had concluded this with a cold, hard clarity from the numerous group-sex sessions she had attended in the past few months.

The ruttish men wasted no time as they moved in on the women in the group they wanted. A young muscle-clad man approached Pearlyn and began to fondle her breasts gently. Pearlyn moaned in response and arched her body forward, pushing it towards him. “You are number one,” she muttered inwardly.

The young man took her hands and guided her to a sheep-skin rug beside the large bed and lay her on it. Spreading her legs, Pearlyn pressed the man’s head to her chest; the man began to nibble at her hardened nipples. Pearlyn let out a louder groan this time, drawing other available men, unknowing victims, to her web.

She closed her eyes and receded into her secret thoughts, like an elusive sea creature slipping into a deeper, darker depth. The young man jerked her body upwards as he lay on his back, and in this sitting position, Pearlyn guided his hard cock into her, edging it in roughly, causing the man to take a harder bite on her left breast. Another man approached from behind and pushed himself into her ass. Number two, she counted.

Her time would soon be up, Pearlyn knew, but before she went, she would take as many of them with her as possible, like an ancient Egyptian pharoah who brought his whole household, family and slaves, with him when he passed into the next world.

Pearlyn had received the news nine months ago, when she went for an anonymous AIDS test at Kelantan Lane, a month after a particularly hot-and-heavy session when the guy who had doggie-fucked her broke his condom.

Completely devastated by the results, she took a free-fall into an emotional chasm. She wrestled through the whole gamut of experiences, from denial and anger to what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. But one thing that she had refused to come to terms with was acceptance. She refused to back down in the face of death. She had never been a victim, and she refused, even now with this disease, to become a victim.

The only residue from this exhausting existential struggle, after all her emotion, physical strength and will-power were spent, was the deep, bone-dry anger that left an indelible mark on her. This anger soon hardened into a rage that simmered menacingly under her nonchalant facade. And it was this intense rage that gave her back the will to live, to do what she had set her mind to achieve: this plan of revenge, claiming her pound of flesh.

Pulling herself away from the menage a trois, Pearlyn moved on to the small cluster on the bed, their arms and legs all over one another. She grabbed a purplish-looking cock brusquely from another woman and roughly nudged her aside. She began to suck on it hungrily before inserting it into her. She started to pump away, deeper and deeper, and groaned ecstatically with every thrust. Another down, she noted.

So from one man to another, to another, Pearlyn moved among the group of sweaty bodies with a profound determination, making mental notes on who had been exposed and who still hadn’t. Her mind was sharp and her body flushed red from the physical exertions.

Finally, the session wound down to an end, as people started to break away from the action and began cleaning themselves with handfuls of Kleenex and wet tissues. Pearlyn got off the bed, her body shining like a new-born Venus emerging from a giant shell, glistering in the dimness of the room with tiny droplets of cum and perspiration. She moved to the pile of clothes on the floor, picked up her white cotton shirt and silk pleated skirt, and, without wiping herself off, began to put on her clothes. Her white shirt plastered itself to her chest and back, making it almost translucent.

Once she was done, Pearlyn left the master bedroom quietly and went into the living room where she collected her black Gucci bag from the couch.

With a quick check on its contents, and a backward glance and snicker at the bedroom, she left the apartment.

As Pearlyn was about to enter the lift, she dug out her PDA from the bag and flicked it on. Checking through her calendar, she noted that there would be another session this coming Saturday at 7 pm, at an executive condominium in Bishan. “Good,” she uttered softly under her breath, her eyes glistening brightly, with an almost inhuman intensity.

CELIBATION
Lee Yew Moon, Singapore

I feel you come, just before I am about to release the tension that has pleasured me. Your lightness floats on me as you let go. Before I can come, you raise your hips and unsheathe my penis while the rest of you remains on me. You rock your hips and brush your pubic hair along my shaft, leaving moisture on me I will always smell.

Untamed, my penis tingles and strengthens. You peel slowly away from me.

Light floods between us. Dawn brings the squawk of a feral cockatoo which turns my face toward the window. The sky dazzles me. I turn back to look at you, and you are gone.

I’m still hard, throbbing… but unfulfilled.

“So, you say this happens to you almost every morning?”

“Yes, Elder Anton.”

“But we really have no proof that you are capable of…” He paused, probably looking for words that would not offend. Offend his own value system, that is. “It’s quite clear that you cannot get an erection. We have administered the three prescribed tests and it hasn’t stood the test, so to speak.”

“But Elder, I get it everyday, in the morning.”

“So you say. But the council needs to see it. Our orders are very clear—when appropriately stimulated, candidates for elderhood must show… arousal. Otherwise, as the Holy Chapters point out, the vow of chastity does not mean any sacrifice.’

“I know that, Elder.” I was desperate. Yet I paused. “But why would I want to join your Order if I don’t sense that I have been called? It isn’t exactly a life of fun and games I am asking for.”

There was a long pause. “The Inspired Ones were all-seeing. They knew that our Order could become the refuge of all manner of men hiding their inadequacies behind our restrictions and good repute.” Another pause.

“That’s why we have the tests. On admission, all Elders must be fully functional men who have actively given up the enjoyment of those functions.” This was old ground.

“Yet it does not seem you are seeking refuge.” He paused to look at me fully. ‘And your earnestness is clearly deep. I will have to call the Council.” He trotted out of the Interview Room. About fifteen minutes passed. The door opened again. Elder Anton returned with another elder. They were, both of them, solemn.

“This is Elder Renee from the Seclusion Order. In matters such as these, we call on another Order to help us. As things are, we cannot admit you into our order. All three arousal tests have proven negative, and by this stage, all previous unqualified candidates have dropped out on their own.” The other elder spoke. “We’re honestly very surprised that you’re still so insistent on continuing. In fact, we are impressed.” Short pause. “But we cannot let our impressions, strong though they may be, undermine the sacred laws of the Inspired Ones.”

“I see.” I got ready to leave.

“We took a closer look at the Holy Chapters, and discovered that while we cannot let our impressions decide your entry, we are allowed to give you one more chance if we are collectively of the opinion that the standard tests might have been unfair to you.”

“The Council is of that opinion.”

I stood naked in a room so dimly lit I could not even see its walls. I had been brought in blindfolded and told not to move beyond a chalk circle drawn on the floor. This was my last chance to join the Order, to prove that I could have an erection, even ejaculation, so that I could take a vow of chastity and truly abstain.

I waited until I tired and felt cold from my nakedness. I also tired because, once again, I had that… encounter… in my sleep. It woke me up even earlier than usual, and I did not sleep after that.

Being tired was not going to help, and I was not hopeful. Previous attempts had been well calibrated and I didn’t know why I had not responded.

The Order had tried to arouse me through visual, auditory, even smell stimuli.

But I remained soft. I tried very hard to invoke your presence to help me harden, but it only seemed to make matters worse!

A door opened and a faint glow filled the space. A female form, covered from head to toe in a white robe, came into view. She danced, with the grace of a ballerina. As she moved, her thin robe pressed against her otherwise naked form. Perhaps it was this, but also probably because I could smell her, that I sensed the fleeting touches of animal energy tingling my body. She danced around me, but just out of my reach. I could not keep my eyes off her.

There was no music! She danced, full of grace, to silence. Her robe parted to provide a glimpse of her pubis fettered only by a gentle bush. Her skin glowed amid the dimness. Her robe parted further to reveal her breasts heaving to her dance.

I reached out, but then remembered the chalk circle. I stretched out my hand and just managed to touch and hold her robe. It came off in my hand.

Only her face remained covered.

Through her hood, our eyes met and I had to have her. I would break the rules and leave the circle; and, of course, the Order!

I dropped the robe and stepped out of the circle. She froze at my transgression. I reached out to touch her and saw her looking down. HELL!

It was still… soft. I was about to drag her into sex with me and I was still soft. I froze too. I looked up at her and noticed she was uncovering her head.

“Sister.” It was Elder Anton. “Don’t!”

“Sister?” I gasped. From the Seclusion Order? I felt sick. By then, she had run out of the room naked.

“As you can see for yourself, you have failed to achieve arousal.” Elder Anton was agitated. “We cannot admit you into the Order. This has been your last chance. Please leave the room, dress and go. Do not come back to us again.’

It was then dark, and silent. I walked to where I felt the door was, opened it and started walking…

…across twenty years into this room, beside her.

I don’t know why I’d bothered. Since that day two decades ago, my only ‘arousal’ had been with you. I’d disappointed every other woman, even with medication. Ten years ago, I’d stopped trying or even responding.

When she poses at my figure-drawing classes, she puts her entire soul and body into the stillness of the pieces. My students love her for her beauty and ease, as do I.

Then she offers to show me her room. I accept, knowing she is ‘safe’.

So I am here.

After seeing her room, we chat. Our voices drift across the evening into the night—there seems much to chatter on about. It is almost morning and we are tired. She asks if she could lie down. I say it is her place. She asks if I’m tired, and if I’d do the same. There is only one bed.

The chatter floats and I fall asleep, preparing to meet you.

I am without clothes, and you are on top of me. You have slipped your vagina around my penis and are rubbing it with the gestures of sex. As you do so, you grip and let go of me, inducing a swell of pleasure, I also sense your pleasure.

I feel you come, just before I am about to release the tension that has pleasured me. Your lightness floats on me as you let go. I wait for you to raise your hips and unsheathe my penis… but you go on. You rock your hips with me still inside and your scent, now mixed with mine, floods my senses.

You go on, and we thrash and thrash, and I move into a past when I had known pleasure.

I come, and come, and come.

Light floods between us. Dawn brings the squawk of a feral cockatoo which turns my face toward the window. The sky dazzles me. I turn back to look at you, and you are… her!

“We…?” You look at me, dripping with joy, wafting in our scent.

“Twenty years ago, I fell in love with you before I was born. I knew you would love me too, but you wanted to join that Order and I would have lost you forever. I had to keep you from that and from the other women, because I know you would have married them. I am sorry I made you wait so long.” We kiss.

I, TEIRESIUS
Alaric Leong, Singapore

‘Yes, they’re real.’ A pause. ‘One hundred percent real.’

Talk about being jolted; I felt like a school kid who’d just been caught doing something naughty in class. I mean, that clarification came from out of nowhere. We had been talking about the advertising industry when suddenly my companion there at the bar had thrown that at me.

‘Uhh… excuse me. I didn’t mean to—’ No, I didn’t mean to, but the worst thing was that the moment I was accused of it, my eyes automatically slipped down to peer at the things I’d been just sneaking peeks at until then.

She put her hand under my chin and lifted it just a little, to face level.

‘My eyes. The colour? This is the real colour of my eyes, this hazel brown. One of my great grandparents was European, from Bohemia or somewhere. I evidently inherited that gene from him.’

‘I see. Yes, your eyes. I was… wondering about that colour. I mean, these days, with all the things you can do, shaded lenses and all.’

‘Believe me, I don’t have any lenses. I don’t need them.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Then came that sly smile. ‘The other things, they’re also real. The things you were just sneaking repeated looks at.’

‘Excuse me, I didn’t—’

‘Haven’t we been here before? Anyway, to put your doubts to rest: these tits are mine, too.’

‘Of course. Who else’s would they be?’

And then he… she… this strange person sitting opposite me threw his, her head back and gave this husky, deep-throated laugh. Which only deepened my suspicions. Whatever the current status of this woman, I was pretty sure she did not start out life as a female. There were all sorts of clues; that manly laugh was just one of many.

‘By the way, what’s your full name, Mr Advertising Accounts Executive?’

‘Oh, that’s right, I didn’t… Raymond Chua.’

‘Raymond. Nice name. I’ve always liked that name. I’ve often thought that if I have maybe six sons, one of them will definitely be called Raymond.’

‘Yeah? Well, like they say, everybody loves Raymond. And your name is…?’

‘Teresa. That’s good enough for now. A simple Teresa.’

‘But not so simple a person, I think.’

Teresa then crossed her very shapely legs and smiled. ‘I court complexities. Simple is, for me, just a synonym for “boring”.’

‘I see.’

‘I hope you don’t see! If you did, I wouldn’t be complex enough.’

‘Okay. Uhh… can I buy you another drink?’

Teresa nodded. ‘I think so. But only if I can buy you a drink in the next round after this one.’

‘I wouldn’t say “no”.’ And I didn’t.

And so it went for four more rounds, each of us alternating on buying the next round. Her drink was white wine, mine was red. And after that fifth round for both of us, in vino veritashad taken command of the conversation.

It also produced a certain level of physical comfort. Teresa had already slipped her hand over mine a couple of rounds back, and had now moved it up under my shirt sleeve, lightly stroking the hair on my forearm.

‘So… do you like me, Raymond?’

‘I think I do.’

He.. she laughed. ‘Why are guys always like that? I wasn’t asking who you think is going to win the World Cup. I asked you about your feelings, what you feel. You’re not sure what you feel?’

‘Well, I… what I feel is complex. It’s… I don’t know how to explain.’

‘Okay, Raymond, I do like you. Like you quite a bit. Like you enough to let you ask me.’

‘Ask you what?’

‘Ask me the question you’ve been wanting to ask since you first saw me earlier this evening, across the room, when you liked what you saw and then wondered what might be wrong with you for liking it.’ There was then a tense pause. ‘My sexuality. You’re not curious?’

‘Sure I am.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Okay: Teresa, are you really a man?’

Teresa looked me right in the eyes. ‘Not anymore.’ Bang. Like being hit over the head.

She then inched her left hand over and pulled her plunging neckline down a couple of plunges. ‘Like I said, these breasts are real. I had to undergo treatment to grow them, but they are real, they are all Teresa. And Teresa, nee David, is now a woman.’

‘Do you… Uhhm, what’s the state of your plumbing?’

‘Complex. But the main thing is, I don’t have a penis. I lost that.’

‘Are you a…’

‘Full woman down there? Well, I have a vagina. A functioning vagina.’

She then drew a long, sad breath. ‘And with that, I think I’ve just signalled an end to our pleasant conversation this evening. I think I have told you more than I should have told you.’ She took her wine glass and rapidly drained the last third. She had the saddest look on her face.

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat there, gazing at her like a fool. ‘And you don’t have to apologise, Raymond. Or make up some lame excuse. Just tell me that you enjoyed our little intimate chat, but you can’t go any further with a woman who grew up a man.’

She sat there, staring off into the corner with a defeated expression. A few moments later, she turned back, managed a loser’s smile, then blew me an air kiss, slid off the seat and turned away.

‘No, wait,’ I called out. ‘I’m not turned off by you. In fact, I’m… I find you even more enticing now that I know the truth.’ In vino veritaswas in full force here.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I didn’t tell her, as I should have, that I had long nurtured this fantasy of being with a transsexual. The whole idea of being inside a woman who had once been a man was really a major turn-on. I wanted to know what it was like. In some ways, Teresa was playing right into the core of one of my kinkiest fantasies.

Our conversation then took a sharp turn to the more intimate and more friendly. We each had a half a glass more wine and then decided to take our little party for two to cosier surroundings. I was willing to take her back to my place, but was very glad when she suggested we go to her apartment instead. I was incredibly excited, more than I’d been in a long time. Hell, the moment we stepped out of the club, I was hailing a taxi I spied two streets away.

We held each other tightly in the cab and about halfway back to her place starting kissing rather passionately. I was hoping that the cabbie didn’t get a good look at her, but was willing to tell him to go to hell and mind his own business even if he did. I had taken this big step and wasn’t going to turn around now.

Back at her place, she offered me another drink, but I decided I didn’t need any more alcohol at that point, so just asked for a large glass of water.

While I was drinking, Teresa said she wanted to step into the other room for just a few minutes.

When she emerged again, she was wearing a kimono. ‘It’s genuine, from Kobe. An old boyfriend bought it for me.’

‘Oh, that was nice of the old boyfriend.’

‘And when I say old, I mean old; he had at least 25 years on me, this guy. But he was so sweet and so intelligent. He was a financial analyst, but we liked to discuss literature together. He was incredibly well-read. I really liked him.’

Back at the bar, Teresa had told me that she was a Lit major at university; NUS, in fact. I never cared all that much for literature, so I quickly steered the discussion off in another direction.

We ended up talking about the standard things, starting with where we grew up, where we went to school, all that duty conversation stuff. But with Teresa, it somehow came out relevant and even interesting.

At one point in our conversation, Teresa loosened the cord on her kimono and opened it slightly. ‘Do you know that for traditionalists, it is considered very crass to wear anything under the kimono. Anything at all.’

I suddenly realized how wildly aroused I had become. ‘I see. And are you a traditionalist? I wouldn’t have thought so.’

‘I am in some things. Very much so.’ She smiled this very warm smile.

It was almost unbearable. God, did I want to get close to her. ‘In other ways, I’m not at all traditional.’ Then that carefully poised smile again. ‘I told you I was complex.’

At this point, in the half-light of the room, I also realized how beautiful Teresa was—in a complex way. Sure, I was attracted to her from almost the moment I saw her, but this was a special kind of beauty which you only see after some time.

From her looks, and also from a few clues she had dropped into the conversation, I determined that in addition to that Bohemian ancestor, she also enjoyed a mixed pedigree of Chinese, Malay and probably even a bit of Indian. Maybe some of the other ASEAN members as well. And it all came together in a strange symphony of stunning features.

We continued kicking around various subjects for maybe another half hour. During this time, she fiddled with the opening of the kimono, occasionally edging it open slowly, then pulling it back together. Finally, at one point, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, Teresa pulled the flaps apart, threw her head back like she was posing for a fashion shoot and let the kimono slip off to her sides.

Her beautifully sculpted breasts were tastefully displayed. I couldn’t believe how perfect they looked, how… real. I punched myself mentally. Of course, they were real, she said they were real. Just a little… late in coming.

Even more interesting to me was that feature a bit south of the breasts.

The pussy looked somewhat strange, but pussies can look strange. It also looked real. One thing I noticed was that there wasn’t a lot of fuzz covering it.

It was almost as if she had shaved it and the hair hadn’t fully grown back yet.

I think she read my thoughts, because just as I was thinking about this interesting feature, Teresa deftly moved her hand down there and started stroking slowly. I couldn’t believe it. Until that moment, I was even wondering if I would get to realize my long-time fantasy that evening. Now it was clear: Teresa wanted me and, my god, did I want her.

After that we talked for another five minutes, though I cannot possibly remember what we talked about.

Suddenly, Teresa fixed me with those sexy, hazel eyes and jumped to the main topic. ‘I think I want to share myself with you. Do you want to share yourself with me?’ I’d never heard anyone describe sex that way, but it immediately seemed like the perfect approach to the subject. I nodded, as slowly and as ceremoniously as I could.

Within moments, Teresa had stood up, kimono still wide open, moved across the room and taken me by the hand. Without saying anything, just flashing a smile, she led me to another room. The door was closed, but I knew it wasn’t the kitchen.

Then, right before we reached the room, she turned and asked me the weirdest question of the evening. ‘Who’s your favourite character from Greek mythology?’

‘My favourite character…?’

‘Yes. Who do you really like? Or really identify with.’

Greek mythology? All I could think about was that bang-up movie with Eric Bana and Brad Pitt-Bull. I saw it three times, once on DVD when I was really drunk. ‘Umm… I guess Hector. Or Achilles. One of those two.

Depends on my mood really.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, they’re interesting too. Very manly.’ She then tossed her longish, full hair around vigorously, like a banner. ‘My favourite is Teiresias. Obviously.’

‘Oh yeah, of course. That’s what I would have guessed.’ I had no idea at that point who the fuck Teiresias was. But it didn’t really matter, because two seconds later, she took my head in her hands, pulled me towards her and started kissing me passionately.

Her tongue eased its way into my mouth, then started twisting slowly against my tongue. Then it started moving more intensely, desperately almost. It was as if there was something inside me, perhaps concealed, that Teresa needed to find, to recover and then take as much of that as she could before we broke our kiss.

As the kiss went on, I started feeling really strange. She slid her tongue out, grabbed the sides of my head—she was somewhat strong still—and looked me deep in the eyes.

‘Don’t resist. Just don’t resist it. Let your feelings come through and swirl you in any direction they’re moving. Be honest with your feelings.

Please.’ She then closed her eyes and we started kissing again. But even more intensely now. It was incredible.

She moved her hand down to the front of my pants and started rubbing.

I was already standing tall and proud, as hard as I could possibly be. She stroked me expertly with a skilful palm. I imagined that she must have been a great masturbator back when she was still a guy.

Abruptly, she broke the kiss, put her mouth against my throat and whispered. ‘Let’s go inside. I can’t wait any longer.’

‘I can’t wait any longer, too,’ I replied—which was pretty obvious at that point.

Without turning from me, Teresa reached back and opened the door.

She flipped on a low-glow light and stepped to the bed. The kimono slid to the floor. With her back still towards me, she raised her head and moved it gently. She also twisted her torso slightly as if to show off all the contours of her naked back and rump. She then arched one foot upwards to flaunt her shapely legs. I was pulling wildly at my clothes to get them off when she finally turned her head. ‘Hurry with that. You want some help? I can’t wait to feel you inside me.’

‘No, I can handle it. I’m almost there.’ I pulled my pants off roughly and tore off my underpants. She was now lying back on the bed, her left knee arched upwards, legs spread, eyes focused on the ceiling as if there was some message, some instructions there. Or some warning.

Finally naked, I climbed onto the bed, pulled myself against Teresa’s naked body and started kissing her. It was again that intense, deep penetration kiss. I had my right leg arched over her legs and she immediately started stroking it with her left hand. She then slowly ran her fingertips up the leg until she hit the fork in the road, applying just enough pressure with her nicely clipped nails to make it painfully sensuous.

I rolled back over slightly and started stroking her pussy, first with tightly drawn fingers, then with just two fingers stroking the gash. Then I slowly inserted the middle finger, making a circular motion as it moved deeper into her. She gave out a gasp. ‘Oh god; that’s so nice.’ I twirled a little more and then, strangely, she grabbed my wrist sharply and pulled my hand away.

‘I want to come with you inside me. Also, you shouldn’t do that too long or it will go dry. See, I have to use a lubricant. Natural wetness is the one thing the operation couldn’t provide.’

She then grabbed my sides gently and helped ease me onto her eager body. I suddenly spooked, like a young horse, and was afraid I might go soft.

The finger was one thing, but here I was about to enter a woman who’d spent most of her life as a man. That was still bothering me somewhere deep inside.

But I was very close already, so Teresa eased me down, then took my rigid penis, pulled it against the lip of her vagina and twirled it around on the hair and the wet entrance, then started pulling me into her.

After she had taken in the crown of my cock, I did the rest, with a slow, easy push all the way in. Then I suddenly said to myself, ‘This is it. You are inside a woman who nature had intended to be a man.’ What might happen in here??

At first the pussy felt funny, like something that didn’t belong there.

I wanted to pull out, apologise, wipe myself off, apologise again, dress as quickly as I could and run out of there. But I knew I wouldn’t. After a few strokes, I felt much more comfortable. And before long, it became very pleasurable. Teresa’s vagina was very tight and though not as deep as I would have liked, it fitted me nicely.

In fact, I thought I was about to come after less than a minute; that’s how good the pussy was. I closed my eyes and stiffened up my lower parts. Teresa slowed down her own stroking to a near halt. ‘You almost came, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Don’t worry, darling; that often happens. Most of the guys I’ve known, they lose control quickly with my vagina. So let’s just relax, take it slow, and get used to the feel of the pussy.’

Which is exactly what I was trying to do. After another minute or so of soft thrust and pull, I felt more used to the sensation. Then we steadily picked up tempo and force, moving with an intensity I’d only known with a few women.

As we moved, Teresa started thrusting energetically. She suddenly called out, ‘I love it, I love it. Oh, I really love it. You feel so right. This is what I want; you.’