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: 3 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

“Well, no steady girlfriend at the moment. I’m sort of keeping my options open.” This phrase seemed to puzzle her, so I swung back to straightforward.

“No, I don’t have any regular girlfriend at the moment. Still looking for the right lady.” Again, that smile lit up like a fireworks display.

“Oh,” she’d say, “I think Sir is just being modest.” Unfortunately, Sir was not being at all modest. While I had dated a number of women over the half year I’d been back, I hadn’t had sex—well, you know, real live sex—since returning from the states. And six months without sex, that is not good for one’s health or one’s self-esteem. What good was all my independence really doing me? When I moved in, I thought it would be great: no sneaking a woman past Mom and Dad to get her to my bedroom. But not a single lovely had come anywhere near that waiting sanctuary.

However, Liana and I grew more and more friendly as the weeks went by. The challenge was how to get her back to my place. Fortunately, this was less of a problem than it would have been with many of the other maids.

Unlike most of the domestics prowling the Chateau, Liana did not have any high-energy kids to look after. Or bathe, I reminded myself with relief. She took care of some frail old woman who apparently lived alone in the complex.

Well, not really alone, of course, Liana was there with her most of the time.

Her actual employers, I came to learn, were the old woman’s son and daughter-in-law. They had their own condo over in the East Annexe of the complex. They would drop by quickly in the evening to look in on Mom, and occasionally swing by on the weekends to take the old lady and Liana off for some excursion.

The son always had this loose, distracted look about him. When we’d run into each other and say hello, he’d flash an embarrassed smile that looked more like a wince. Then he’d shrug, like he wished he could have given more to that smile, but had lost it somewhere along the way.

The daughter-in-law was going to be my real hurdle, the way I saw it. She was this perpetually wound-up bitch, who eyed me suspiciously whenever I crossed her path. Okay, she probably eyed everyone she came across suspiciously, she was that type. But I personalised it, as I tend to do with these things. Behind it all, I suspected that she might just be very insightful and could somehow sense how much I wanted to get my hands on Mom’s curvaceous caregiver.

But like I said, distracted Sonny and the Wicked Bitch of the East only dropped by for a quick peek each evening and were absent the rest of the time. That meant the only one between me and luscious Liana was the old lady. I didn’t see her causing any problem either, because this particular auntie was apparently not terribly aware of what was going on around her.

In fact, after a short time, Liana and I would flirt along the pathway or in the lift with the auntie right there, just staring out into space, evidently oblivious to my presence—or at least my intentions. Even better, the auntie tended to nod off for long periods during the day, which allowed Liana to slip out quickly and do personal errands or schmooze with her maid friends. Now I just needed the opportunity to make some arrangements with Liana herself.

Early one evening, we ran into each other at the shopping centre. “Is Sir buying something?” she asked, blithely ignoring the half-full shopping basket that I was lugging.

“Yah, I had to pick up a few things I need before the weekend.” We happened to be standing near the checkout counter at that point. A blush tinged her dark cheeks as she glanced over at one of the displays there, then turned back quickly, her eyes cast down towards the floor.

“Sir will probably have to buy some packages of those things for his weekend, I think.” I turned to see what she was referring to. The first thing I saw was what she must have seen: the condom display. A rather ample condom display actually. I was stunned, though clearly not in any unpleasant way. I just couldn’t…

When I looked back at Liana, she had just peeked up at me, a delectably impish smile on her face. Wondering what the fuck to say, I stammered out

“I… I think I have enough of those already.” I swallowed deeply. The next thing I said could carry me to either bliss or disaster. I had to be very clever, very polished. “You going back to the Chateau right after this?” Don’t smirk; it was clever enough. Liana flashed another of her bountiful smiles and said she had to pay first, holding up two cans of sugar cane juice.

I pointed out that paying would be advisable, then told her to put them in my basket and I’d pay for everything. We could settle up later, I added.

We then joined the queue, with Liana standing right behind me. It was like some guy shopping with his maid, I thought. Then I realised I wasn’t at all unhappy with that. If anyone saw us, they’d never think I was about to hit on a maid from my complex. They’d think we were just… hey, another maid and her well-heeled employer. But I suddenly decided I didn’t care what they thought. What business did they have thinking about us anyway? To hell with them, right?

As we strolled back to the Chateau, I asked Liana if she had any boyfriends here in Singapore. She told me the guys here did not seem to like her. I told her I found that extremely hard to believe. She just smiled sweetly, as if she didn’t believe it herself. I then asked if she had any boyfriends back in Sulawesi. She had a few, she told me, but they weren’t serious. “Just a bunch of stupid boys,” she said. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” By this time, I was finding it a little hard to walk since I was grappling with an erection that was caught in my boxers, jutting out sideways. This was no big handicap, though, as Liana herself was not able to move too quickly in her tattered flip-flops. Thanks to these two restraints, the stroll back was long and leisurely. We laughed and giggled a lot, though I can’t for the life of me remember what we were laughing about. As we waited for the green light just across from the Chateau, I decided to make my move. I asked her if she’d like to come down to my apartment sometime soon, maybe have some tea and cookies. She said she preferred the sugar cane juice. I told her I was friends with a major supplier. She asked when she should come. I asked when she could come.

We arranged for her to come over early Saturday afternoon. “Sir” and

“Ma’am” were going off to visit friends in Malaysia this weekend, and she said she could drop in when her auntie had her naptime. “Great. Oh, we should spend some time together over at my place,” I added.

“No problem,” she promised. “My auntie usually takes a long nap in the middle of the day.” I really liked the way she said “lo-ong.” My cock somehow managed to stiffen even more as it found another nook at the side of my boxers to snuggle into. I could barely move. But for Liana and me, it just remained to work out the logistics.

She had told me that her auntie usually dozed off right after lunch. That should be about a quarter past one, she thought. But it was almost three by the time she finally arrived. I was going crazy by then, scanning some of the DVDs I’d pulled out to try to distract myself while waiting for her. But it was worth the wait. When she finally stood there in the doorway, she was just so hopelessly lovely. She had done something special with her hair and even put on a bit of lipstick. As much as I loved her natural look, she was even more alluring with this little touchup. I had a hard-on within seconds.

I offered her some sugar cane juice. She said she would love some.

Then she shyly asked if I could add some alcohol to it. “Sure,” I answered, “no problem.” I reached into the back of my cupboard for a bottle of vodka.

She scooped up the glass, then downed the whole thing in one long swallow. “Sorry,” she said, “I was so thirsty.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” I replied, then asked if she wanted a refill.

She nodded, but added, “Just half a glass.” While I was still pouring, she turned and glanced at the kitchen floor. “Oh,” she sort of squeaked. “You really need your floor cleaned.”

“Oh yeah, but it’s alright,” I replied. “I… I always leave it until Sunday.

I look forward to doing it right after morning coffee and the Sunday Times.” I doubt she even heard me. She looked around quickly and then, as if guided by some preternatural instinct all Indonesian girls born to be maids have, headed for the cabinet under the sink where I keep what few cleanup items I have. She enthusiastically hauled out a rarely used bucket, a scrubbing brush, a couple of rags and some liquid that I guess you use to clean floors.

She was amazing; I don’t think I could have found those things so quickly.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I said.

“Oh no, Sir, this floor really needs a good clean.”

“Just leave it,” I barked. “I’ll… I’ll take care of it later so you can get a good sleep tonight. I promise.”

Liana had moved to the kitchen sink and was running hot water into the bucket. “No, this is good, so. I really like cleaning floors. It’s so much fun.” While I moped, she mopped. And then things got more interesting. “I hope you don’t mind, Sir. But it always gets so hot when I do this work.” Before I could ask her what I was supposed to not mind, she had swiftly tugged off her tight-fitting tee and with one further, deft movement removed the bra as well. She stood there with those luscious coffee-toned breasts topped by dark nipples and a kid’s-party smile spread all over her face. She looked down briefly, as if to check what had me so transfixed, then looked back up, her smile conveying a sense of total understanding and agreement.

She then swivelled and flipped the bra and tee onto the kitchen table with all the grace and artfulness of a stripper.

Oh my God, she was a fucking work of art under that maid’s attire. Her skin was soft, light brown, the shade of coffee just the way I love it. Probably just as sweet, too, I was thinking. Although Liana was of small stature, her tits were fantastic: not as large as I imagine Hazniya’s were, but sizeable and perfectly sculpted. I wanted to clutch them in my palms and moved towards her with every intention of doing so.

Holy wake up, I couldn’t stand it. I had such a massive hard-on, I thought it might choke me. I figured if I couldn’t put it into her, and very soon, I’d probably start ramming myself against a wall until I collapsed from exhaustion and multiple abrasions.

But she seemed obsessed with getting that damn floor clean. Desperate to plunge myself into this lady, I moved to the very edge of the soapy circle and reached out for her. But she pushed me off. With a poised smile and a no-no shake of her head, she said, “Not yet, Sir Jeffrey. I have to start scrubbing first.”

Then she said something else that made me crazy. “Oh,” she said, “I wore my very special panties today, you know.” She unhooked her shorts and opened them to show me the knickers: a splashy swirl of bright colours. They looked like they’d been designed by someone whose usual job was turning out ice kachang. “I always wear them for special days. But I don’t want them to get wet. Would you mind it if I…?”

I guess she took my tongue hanging down over my chin as the closest I could get to “No, I don’t mind!” because within a few seconds she had pulled off both shorts and pants, then carried them over to the kitchen table too.

And, wah, could she sashay that perfect little tush as she made the journey. As great as her tits were, I’m ready to concede the ass may have even topped it. I couldn’t believe this was really happening to me. And then she turned around again, and I saw her pussy fully for the first time. Oh God. It was a beautiful crop of dark, wiry hair, as lovely, dark and deep as the Indonesian rain forest.

I felt like lunging over there, grabbing her and then carrying her off to the bedroom, like Tarzan bringing Jane to his boudoir in the trees. But I thought that might spook her, ruin the whole moment. No, I had to practice a little patience. At this point, however, my patience had an expected shelf life of about five seconds.

She was now down on her knees with a wet rag in her hand, but before she began scrubbing, she looked up and flashed me another quick smile. She then commenced with the cleaning. She swabbed the rag against the floor in small circles, her ass and tits rotating in syncopated rhythms to this entrancing motion. She seemed so concentrated as she applied delicate pressure to those circles she was making on the tiles.

I suddenly noticed that I was unconsciously making similar strokes with my right hand across my groin. I started to sputter out a plea—or maybe it was a confession of love. “Liana, I… the thing is, why I really wanted you to come down here today…”

She looked up to listen, then flashed the most knowing smile I’d ever seen and spun my life around. “Oh, this is such hard work. I don’t think I can do it all myself. Don’t you want to help me, Sir?”

“Help you? You mean…?” Without dimming her smile one click, she nodded towards the floor, with its sodden field of white-capped mounds. I tore off my clothes as quickly as I could; I tossed them back into the other room with the rest of my stuff, then rushed over to Liana and the bucket, sliding along the last stretch of the slick surface on my knees.

She handed me a rag and together we started working on the tiles. After a few moments, I started gently rubbing the rag along her ass. She gave a soft purring sound at this. I started to move the rag up the small of her back, making small concentric circles as I moved. Meanwhile, she had started rubbing my chest with her rag, gently rotating it the way Hazniya did when I was a kid. She put the rag down and used her finger to wipe behind my ears.

I was in high ecstasy.

But that was just the prelude. As my rag was making its way up around her shoulders, she put both her hands on mine. “Now we come to the best part of cleaning floors,” she said. And then she gave me a gentle kiss, as sweet as any kiss I can remember.

She pushed her rag a short distance behind her, took the other rag from me, then retrieved the third from the soapy depths of the bucket. She turned and laid all three out along the floor. After making sure they were all set at the right distance and fluffed up properly, she laid down across them, like they were some makeshift bed. She raised her legs in V-shapes, then stretched out her arms and drew me down on top of her. As I was sliding a little on the wet tiles, I was a bit clumsy about getting in just the right position. But I managed to get more or less right while Liana stretched out her hand, stroked my cock gently, then guided me into herself.

I was so horny by now, I almost came within seconds of entering her.

But Liana somehow arched her hips rather acrobatically, thrusting my cock into a new position that held off ejaculation. I looked down into her lovely face in surprise and admiration. Any thoughts I had had that she might be an innocent short on useful experience completely disappeared.

Her pussy felt fantastic, especially in the position she now had me wedged into. It was moist and warm and wonderfully tight, and we felt like a perfect fit together. If anything, I was the innocent here. I whispered that I thought this would be even better in the bedroom.

At this, she just giggled warmly. “But we have to get your floor cleaned first. This is how we get to all the hard-to-reach places.” Aha! Those “hard-to-reach places.” I wondered if that was a phrase they learned at Indonesian maid school.

I was also wondering if she knew what she was talking about when she started pushing with her feet, propelling both of us along the floor. We would glide along the slick, sudsy surface, twisting slightly, her pussy rubbing my cock deliciously, my cock deftly stroking her pussy. Although I was on top of her physically, she was clearly on top of the situation, directing our slippery voyage along the floor, or the rubbing together and thrusting of our respective pleasure packs.

After a short time, I discovered how I could direct our movements a little myself, using my knees to get short, thrusting jerks, then giving a push along the floor with my toes, sending us sliding along a few feet, still locked together.

A couple of times, she would say she’d missed a spot. And then she’d start sliding back, her hands and ass rowing us backwards. She would again start to move her luscious ass from side to side, then raise her hips slightly and swivel. I’d go crazy. So would she. She’d moan, “Oh yes, I think we got it this time, that hard-to-get spot,” and then give out that little syncopated squeal of hers that I found such a turn-on. So I would answer, “Let me give it some thorough rubbing, to make sure we’ve really got it clean this time.” And then I’d thrust myself down into her lovingly, again and again.

We moved all around the kitchen, shaking the table, knocking over a couple of chairs. A few times—yeah, I think it was three, but I like to believe it could have been four or five—Liana would suddenly sail us along a wall or into a corner. She’d be pinned there and suddenly thrust her hips back and forth energetically, reaching orgasm after about ten seconds. She’d clutch me by my neck, maybe pull my hair and moan in the most wonderful way, then slip into a mode of release with a deep smile. On the last corner stop, I joined in, my cock going at about five throbs a second, my semen flowing into her in full, rich jerks. We lay there on the floor for maybe another few minutes, wiped out and absolutely ecstatic. This, I realised, is what sex was supposed to be when they first came up with the idea.

After, like I say, a few minutes of still lying there locked together, Liana looked up at me with a slightly sad expression and said she had to hurry back upstairs to look after her auntie. I nodded just as sadly, and said I’d help her get ready.

Ironically after all that sloshing around in soap and water, we both needed to take a shower. Which we did together, of course. We also washed our hair, which was drenched in streams of detergent suds. Afterwards, as Liana dried her luscious body with a towel, I started to get at her hair with the hair dryer. When she finished with that great bod, she dropped the towel and took the hair dryer from me to finish the job. At one point, I took the dryer back from her, switched it to cool, and pointed it towards her pubic hair. After a few rounds with the dryer, I reached down, said, “Let me check that it’s really dry there,” and started stroking the bush. By this time, I myself was already as hard as a graphite rod, and I started to gently insert my middle finger up inside her. “The hair’s fine,” I noted, “but I think this is a little wet here.” She nudged me back gently and tsked.

“Oh, Sir Jeffrey is very much horny today. But I have to get back to my auntie or I might get in really trouble. We’ll be back to check on the floor in a few days, though.”

For the next two months, my kitchen floor was kept stunningly clean. Liana and I would attend to it at least once a week, sometimes even two or three times, depending on how often she could sneak out of her place and down to mine. It sparkled, that floor. I never realised the happiness I could feel just having such a sparkling floor to look at.

Usually, we’d proceed the way we had the first time, but sometimes Liana would ask if she could get on top. I would agree immediately; I learned while at business school how important it is that both parties be able to see things from the other person’s position.

I must admit that lying on those sopping rags was not the most comfortable of positions, but it was more than a fair trade-off for experiencing Liana’s additional skills and seeing the ecstasy she could achieve from above.

She’d mount me gently, then start pumping, sort of navigating our course around the floor. The best part of this arrangement was being able to look at her gorgeous tits as they dangled in my face. Okay, I’m probably biased, but they were absolutely beautiful with their warm, light brown tone highlighted by the thick, almost purplish nipples.

From below, I could reach up and take her breasts into my wet, sudsy palms, massaging them gently as she pumped her groin energetically on my cock. I’d start at the bottom, just stroking them with a pair of knuckles from both hands, then spread to full palms, taking the breasts first from the sides, then working my way to the top, then back down again.

Then I’d press my thumbs against her stiffened nipples, twirling them about while the rest of my fingers stroked the top half of her breasts. While this was going on, Liana would go crazy, pumping wildly and bringing herself to one, two and who-can-count-any-more orgasms. Her long, almost weeping squeal of rapture was the most fantastic thing I’d ever heard, and I’d often just grab her ass and join her in the rapture, sweeping into screaming orgasms.

The only problem with her up above was that a few times, we’d get so caught up in the heat of passion that she’d lower her tits right to my face.

Instinctively, I’d raise my head a bit and start sucking on those gorgeous melons-only to get a rich, soapy taste filling my mouth. I’d then start choking and spitting out what I’d just sucked in and we’d have to separate and take a little breather until I recovered.

After her first couple of visits, I started giving her little presents every time she came down to clean. At first, they were fairly simple—some new sexy underwear, a box of chocolates—just small tokens of my appreciation.

Before long, they got more elaborate—jewellery, a nice bag, designer underwear (none of which looked like ice kachang). As my little presents became more and more generous, Liana grew even more zealous in her cleaning. Sometimes the two of us would do the floor two or three times at one go, making it immaculate. Then she’d jump up, say she was late, rush in and shower, pull her clothes back on, give me a hurried kiss goodbye and rush out.

And, God, was she sweet. Often, just as we’d finished, while I was still lying on top of her, she’d look up and ask, “Are you really happy here with me, Sir Jeffrey?” And I would say yes, really. And then she’d lay her head back into a pool of blue foam and say, “Me too. I am so really happy. Really.” Towards the end of those two fabulous months, I made a major decision.

I decided that I was going to make this thing permanent. I wanted to go up to Liana’s employers and ask if we could make some deal whereby I could purchase her employment contract off them. I wanted her to be my maid full-time. Did not want to share her with anyone, not even some doddering old lady.But I didn’t move immediately on this urge. I wanted to give it some time, maybe two weeks, mull it over, make sure I was making the right decision. That was my mistake, one of the biggest of my life. Before that two weeks was out, so was Liana—out of Singapore.

She didn’t come as scheduled one day, and I was puzzled, well, a bit pissed-off actually. I tried without success to get in touch with her over the next few days and when I couldn’t, I grew quite concerned. I tracked down some of her maid friends around the Chateau and asked if she was sick or something. No, they told me; she’d been sent back to Indonesia by her employers. Ma’am had apparently found some expensive items stashed in her room: earrings, bracelets, necklaces. The bitch accused Liana of having stolen them from somewhere. Liana insisted that they weren’t stolen, they were presents. “Presents? From who?” asked Ma’am. Liana said they were from her boyfriend and admitted she had a boyfriend she snuck off and saw sometimes.

“Did she, uhh, ever say who this boyfriend was?” I asked. Her friends shrugged. Some guy from the construction site down the hill, they guessed, a Thai or a Bangladeshi. That’s what she told her employers anyway. Of course, this merely confirmed for the couple that Liana was lying, that she had obviously stolen those articles; no foreign construction worker could ever in his wildest dreams have afforded such presents.

The friends went on to tell me that before they repatriated Liana, the couple had confiscated all of her fancy presents. They told the poor girl that since she wouldn’t tell them the truth of where they came from, they were going to donate the gifts to some suitable charity. (Probably the dour bitch’s Office Show-off Charity, I muttered to myself.)

One of the friends had managed to go to the airport with Liana when she was flown back. The poor thing had cried the whole time while waiting to board, according to this friend. She also kept insisting, over and over again, that she really had this boyfriend, really: a real, true boyfriend, kind and generous, cute even, the kind she had always dreamed about meeting. And then she did, and he had become her realboyfriend.

At this, I could only nod and choke out a few words. “Yeah, I believe her. I think she definitely had a real boyfriend. A girl as pretty and sweet as that, she could have had anyone she wanted. Really.” I then thanked them for their help, said I had some things I had to attend to urgently, turned and rushed off. When I got back inside my apartment, I slammed my fist against the wall. And there was something harsh and stinging in my eyes for awhile.

Needless to say, my kitchen floor has never been so clean again. And I have never once since then known such pure, uncluttered happiness. Really.