Qing was slender with small and perfect breasts and nipples the colour and to some extent the shape of olives. Because of the sheer drabness of the pyjamas, I’d expected to find a huge, thick, metal-reinforced bra under her pyjama top. But if she had one she wasn’t wearing it.
I’d also expected her to close in for a hug, because she’d figure that if we were cuddling she could keep her modesty, since I wouldn’t be able to look at her breasts. So she’d surprised me when she’d stood there, letting me look at her.
Qing seemed to be an odd mix of mainland Chinese dowdiness and diaspora Chinese sophistication. She’d said that she grew up in Shenzen, a hideous industrial town, Shenzhen, all smoke, rubbish, noise and steel. Then she’d taken the university path as her ticket the hell out of there. That was why her English, and her lack of accent, were so unusually good.
So was the sight of her, waiting bare-breasted for me to show some appreciation. I’d decided that my choices amounted to kissing her nipples, which would be vanilla and possibly a little staid for a girl who seemed to be wanting a bit of adventure, or using my thumb and forefingers to pinch those nipples until her face showed pain and her breathing quickened. While that wouldn’t be boring it could easily be the wrong kind of painful, and slightly annoying. I could annoy my way right out of Qing’s bedroom.
So I put my hands on her hips, with my thumbs inside the pyjama bottoms so that I felt like a mild-ish sexual threat. I leaned forward and kissed her left nipple, adding special effects like sometimes trying to suck her entire breast into my mouth, and sometimes lifting my head so the cold night air caught her wet olive. She whined when I took my mouth away, so I was doing the right thing.
I kissed and sucked her breasts for some time, and then turned my face from side to side, letting my teeth graze along her rubber-hard nipples. I glanced up to find Qing’s fiercely concentrating face, eyes closed.
So I pushed her pyjama bottoms down over her hips. Underneath she turned out to be wearing knickers with a pattern of smiley frogs joining hands and kicking like a chorus line. I ripped them down too. They might have been sexy on a less girly girl than Qing, but on her they were just too much.
Qing sat on her bed, almost naked, with her legs out and her pyjamas bunched below her knees.
I tugged the pyjamas and knickers all the way off, and she lifted her knees to help me. And to present her tiny cunt, between her raised, open thighs. She watched me as I got on my hands and knees and crawled up her white sheets towards that little cunt, like a wolf who sees a baby in the snow.