Mouth to mouth 9: In Qing’s bed

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.

Shenzhen in the smog

Shenzhen in the smog

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. 

asian-girl 1I 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. 

Mouth to mouth 8: In Qing’s room

Qing’s place was an old wooden house with a couch mouldering on the verandah. It had four bedrooms, and Qing shared it with five other students. Qing’s was a tiny room in a three bedroom house she shared with four other students.

In the kitchen she skillfully ducked my attempt to put my arms around her, but took my hand and half-led, half pulled me down a short corridor to her door.

Once we were in her room and I’d shut the door behind us, she did a spin with her arms close to her body but her hands at shoulder height, palms upwards. “Well, home swee home. So welcome, hey.”

She’d said her room was tiny but it seemed even smaller than that: spare, sparse and Spartan. Her only furniture was a small double bed, a work desk and a chair made of three-ply and metal tubing. The books on her desk were about accounting and business management. The most frivolous volume was something called The Seven Habits of Successful Companies.

Some landlord, long ago, had painted the walls the colour of mushroom soup. It looked like there’d been an explosion in a paté factory. There were no pictures on her walls.

Qing saw me looking around. She shrugged. “It’s what I can afford. It’s ugly but it’s got a bed and a desk.”

qing“I’ll beautify it.” I meant the room would look better if she was naked. But it was a bit obscure: Qing frowned, not getting me. But I took the top buttons of her pyjama top and fumbled with them. I stopped for a second and looked questioningly into her eyes. She gave a tiny, dismissive nod, as if I shouldn’t have stopped or asked her. Buttons were being too hard and too slow, so I pulled her top up, away from the pyjama bottoms.

She put her arms up. I pulled the top free and dropped it on her chair.

Her breasts were small and perfect, nipples hard as bullets in the cold. I could warm them with my mouth. Or I could pinch her and make the cold irrelevant with my fingertips. Qing stood with her hip slung forward, watching me. It was my decision.

E[lust] 75: The giant squirt and the luminous rabbit (not included)

Elust #75

Kilted Wookie
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Welcome to Elust #75 

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~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Is it hate? Am I a fraud?
On Rape Fantasy
Just Breathe

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

sex, surgery, celibacy

Sex, Death, and Squirting

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

On Filth

Erotic Non-Fiction

How I Became an Escort
I’m 2 and 0 for the season
He fights back
Hands On
The foodslut and the semifreddo…
The Photographer
Ex-Nazi girl: my hand on the back of her head
I Belong To You

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Disciplinary Drives
On Filth
On sex positivity in public play
Cock Rings 101
A New Scene

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Fuck Feast Sexual Literacy Test
Sex Toys in Relationships — Yes, it’s OK.Negotiating Power
Out of Touch
Don’t catfish: Be you.

Writing About Writing

On Jackie
Trigger Warnings (revisited)

Erotic Fiction

This would be fun
The Fucking Machine.
Erotic Fiction…With Aura
A Little Romance
Domination Dreams
My Pretty Dead Ones

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5 Hilarious Pieces of Anti-Sex Propaganda
19 Reasons to Cheat on Your Boyfriend


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Mouth to mouth 7: Squeezing a small girl’s ass

We walked together in clear, chill moonlight, Qing leading the way, through various people’s backyards. Qing sometimes suffered me to have an arm round her waist but mostly she walked beside me. Separately.

Her apparent stand-offishness puzzled me. She’d said she was about to fuck me. She could change her mind, but I couldn’t see any reason why she would. Yet. I hadn’t had time do something stupid and repulsive enough to change her mind.

kiss kissAs far as I could tell, we were still heading for her bed. But the emotional ambience just wasn’t very sexy. 

So I stopped and pointed out the moonlight shining through the trees, like an idiot. Then I kissed her, less stupidly. She smiled and kissed back, with something that felt like passion, pushing her breasts against the bottom of my rib cage.

Then she broke away from me. But afterwards we walked closer together.

It seemed that when I wasn’t actively pushing her sexually she’d start to lose interest, but that she liked it when I did push her barriers. So I slid my hand down the back of her pyjamas, and let my fingers explore under her knickers.

qing grabassEventually I had my hand on the skin of her left buttock, which was as apple-like, with that concavity at the side, as I’d guessed. Qing was firm in my hand, and once she’d started walking I could enjoy the movement of her muscles.

Qing said, “okay, you do fancy me. And I bet you did follow my ass out the door.”

“I did. I said so. But I’d have followed you if you’d walked out backwards. Or, I don’t know, on skates. Sideways.”

“Fair enough. My place is … Unhh!”

The ‘Unhh’ was because I’d slid my fingertips between her buttocks. And stroked her cunt. My fingers had found soft, petalled folds, and stroked and slid along them. Qing was gloriously wet.

Mouth to Mouth 6: Walk with me

Qing was poised in the front door, ready to leave. She didn’t seem to be in the same mood as when she’d offered to fuck anyone who was at the party. I wanted her back in that mood. I couldn’t tell if I was losing ground or doing reasonably well. Anyway, I’d got a smile for honest lust. “Yeah. Your bum is way cute.” She didn’t like ‘cute’. “I mean it’s hot. And, well, like two apples.”

“Apples? Tha’s your guess? You sure?”

qing jammies“Well, apples with dimples at the side. No, more than dimples. Concavities. I’d have to get rid of those pyjamas to be sure, of course.”

She frowned, considering that, then nodded judiciously. “All right.”

So I took a step closer, like a man getting within stroking range of a spooked cat. Carefully. “And I followed your bum out of the room, didn’t I?”

But that annoyed her. “Well, you didn’ seem very keen before.”

“Qing. Course I was keen. More than keen. But I thought you were hanging out with your boyfriend. I didn’t want to get in your way. That’s completely the only reason I haven’t spent this evening talking with you. Um, and trying to fuck you.”

“Ok. Then why didn’ you get up, in the lounge? If you were so keen?”

That was too sharp a question, and the truth (cowardice, insecurity, etc) just wouldn’t do. “I had some guy sitting on my feet. And someone’s legs in my lap. I had to push them out of the way before I could get to you. You got to do that sort of thing carefully.”

“Mmmm.” But she was pretending not to smile, now. “Well, maybe you waited too long. The momen’s gone.”  

I laughed. “Nah, we’ve just wasted some time, is all. But it was a waste. So we should go to bed, right now. Really quickly. Your bed, wherever the hell that is.”

“Okay. You can walk me home. And fuck me.”

Mouth to mouth 5: I like your tits

Qing was in the corridor, about to open the front door. She heard me coming and looked over at me. She didn’t react. I had no idea if she was pleased or disappointed that it was me. I said, “I’m Jaime. We were talking in that … revolving barrel thing in the park.”

“Yeah, why’d you leave all of a sudden?” The tone wasn’t friendly.

I took another step closer. “That guy, who grabbed you. Back in the park. I thought he was your boyfriend. So I left you to it.”

“Ah, you idiot.” Women sometimes say that with affection. This wasn’t. And she wasn’t going to explain what had really been happening, either.

Oh, _those_ tits.

Oh, _those_ tits.

I said, “Well, I got it wrong, but I had the sense to be sad about the idea of you having a boyfriend.”

She frowned sceptically. “Were you?”

Another step. She opened the front door, letting in a whoosh of cold air. “I was absolutely sad. Cause I really liked you.” Her face fell. She didn’t like, trust or respect that sort of statement. Not from men.

I corrected myself. “Liked your tits. Loved your tits, when we were face to face. Nice and biteable. And just now, when you were walking away…”

I got my first smile. “You liked my bum, la?”

Mouth to mouth 4: Cute ass in pyjamas

Qing stood by the door, not wanting to come all the way into the lounge. She looked around. I hoped she was looking for me, so I made a “great to see you” face and waved, a wavelet really, with movement only from the wrist.

At the time I thought she was ignoring me. More likely, though, she couldn’t see me through the fug of marijuana smoke that swirled between us, underlit by the green and red glow of two coloured lamps. They were the room’s only light.

She frowned and said, “Well, it’s been a good par-ry. Thank you for a grea evening. But I’m going home to bed.”

I wondered if I should get up and say goodbye to her, try to get her number, try to walk her home, try to get into her bed with her, and that sort of thing. But I’d only had the start of a conversation with her, because we were interrupted before we’d got far with it. I didn’t feel that I had enough of a basis for doing that. So I sat where I was.

Qing looked back at the door she’d come through, and then at the room again.

“But. If anyone wants to come to bed with me… Well, I think I’d like to be fucked. Or fuck someone. Anyone here. Anyone?”

I don’t know what you’d expect to happen, if a pretty woman makes that offer to an entire room, or to anyone who happened to be in it. From a sample of one – I’ve never seen something like that happen again – the answer is that nothing at all happens. People didn’t look at each other, or smile, or make “you go” gestures to a friend, or put their hands up.

No-one moved. Including me.

So Qing shrugged. “Oh well, then.” She opened the door. “Good night.”

jammiesAnd she left. Various people said good night in return, but most were still a bit non-plussed by her offer. They could have thought it was gauche, but instead they knew it had been brave enough to be cool. But their reaction hadn’t been cool, and that had also worried them. They were cool too, weren’t they? And yet they’d reacted like a grimace of maiden aunts.

I was still thinking. I didn’t care about being cool. No-one there knew me, and nothing they said or thought could be as important as Qing and her bed.

It was her skinny but cute pajamaed bum that decided me. That bum was about to wiggle out of the room, on its way to a lonely bed. Well, that would be just a waste. A stupid waste.

So I got up, finally, and walked over people’s legs and belongings, until I’d reached the door. The corridor was dark. “Qing?”

Mouth to mouth 3

Back at the party I met a blind French philosopher. Let’s call him Louis, because his name is nothing like Louis. He’s famous enough to be in a magazine (which was why I recognised him), but they didn’t put him on the cover. Still, it was odd to run into him in a provincial university town.

We talked about an argument he was having with an American philosopher about free will. They disagreed over the way in which free will isn’t real. It had got quite heated.

But he was getting bored with his one fan, and he asked if there were any ‘ot girls in the room. So I went up to a girl with long red hair, and breasts the shape of beehives in a tanktop. I asked her name, and then led her over.

“Louis, Rachel, I think you two should meet. You’re both interested in cooking, and baseball. And surfing, and 90s rock. Look, I’ll just leave you to it.”

I left, as promised. My introduction had been unhelpful, but I was confident that Louis would be able to parlay his (I expected) complete ignorance of baseball into something charming and impressive. Rachel was probably pretty clever, too.

After that I talked with another woman, but she was keen on making her lack of interest in me absolutely clear, so I said, “oh, excuse me a moment”, as if I’d just seen someone, and took myself elsewhere.

What a waste

What a waste

“Elsewhere” was the kitchen, where a girl in a tight olive dress wanted me to help open her champagne bottle. That was a promising start, but then she started talking about the Bauhaus school’s influence on women’s fashion, which she was studying. Stupidly, I failed to disguise my contempt for all things Bauhaus.

I thought we were having a conversation, in which disagreement helps keep it lively. But she hated being disagreed with, and the people who did that terrible thing. We parted, mutually unimpressed. But I could be as unimpressed as I liked: I’d still blown it as a sex-and-fun opportunity. Sex and fun is way more important than Bauhaus. 

I decided I should shut up and dance. But first, I sat on the arm of the couch, watching the party. 

The over-the-shirt grope. Louis had moved on.

The over-the-shirt grope. But Louis had moved on.

In the corner Louis had his hand inside Rachel’s tanktop. She was fending him off but laughing. The laughter seemed to be real. Anyway, it was Louis who had his back to the wall.

His approach seemed to be to say something clever and then grab the woman and paw her like a drunken gorilla, or maybe the young Gerard Depardieu. But it seemed to be working. Being blind means you get to do a lot of touching. And a French accent lets you get away with all sorts of things. 

Anyway, introducing them was likely to be my one sexual achievement for the night. I sat for a bit longer, mildly displeased with myself. 

And then the door that led to the corridor and the bedrooms opened and Qing, the girl in pyjamas, walked in.