Ex Daughter Grown Up, Part 4, Network Taking Care free porn video

(Introduction: if you have read parts 1, 2 and 3, you will know the people involved: a husband back working in the country he loves and where his grown-up 17y.o. step-daughter from a previous marriage has arranged for her ‘daddy’ to be taken care of by others during her school semesters back in her adopted Australia, where she lives with her mother, the ex-wife. I am about to check-out and leave in the car, Long, my driver, taking me and Ping back to the city, to my H.O., after days away and a weekend of tourist activities shared with Ping, Liem and Tuan – all charged by Yen with looking after me, a network of women ever expanding and all took care of me very well….)


To Ping I said “I’ll go for a shower” but she put a hand to my bare chest, curling fingers in my sparse hair, stopping me “Mr. Steve, I just want you to know that nothing we have done will upset Yen; she and I talk a lot and she approves. What you feel for us, and what you feel for Yen, are not the same; I understand and accept that, so do Liem and Tuan, but you cannot stop us loving you in our own way. Agreed?” “I can agree to that Ping” and I lightly kissed her, then slipping past to shower. Ten minutes later, clean shorts and shirt, and another five minutes to pack up, phoning down to Reception to prepare the bill for the two rooms – I would pay personal expenses and second room when I did my expense claim back at the office; I took a last look around both rooms, checking for forgotten items, and found three pairs of panties hanging in the other bathroom. I laughed as Ping joined me in the doorway “Well, you didn’t buy enough souvenirs, so we thought these might help you remember your tourist weekend here; so these are your mementos.” “They are beautiful; maybe I will wear them myself when I feel lonely.” Ping said seriously, “You will never be lonely, Mr. Steve, I will be there if you need.” I kissed her cheek in thanks.
We checked out, the driver was rested and ready, so we loaded the bags and began the long trip home; I started in the front passenger seat, giving the rear for Ping to stretch out, but the sun coming through the front screen soon made me stop Long for a moment, while I joined Ping in the rear, slightly cooler area. She was happy and cuddled my arm in the middle where the a/c blew through strongly. After an hour, we stopped for refreshments – well, having eaten breakfast, I only wanted beer and a toilet; for Long and Ping it was lunch-time, so they had their fill while I lay in a hammock relaxing.
Back in the car, having bought some cold beers for the trip, it was time for Ping to nap, so she stretched across the seat, her head in my lap, face up, closing her eyes but smiling as I kept my beer in one hand to the side, and laid my other one gently across her abdomen, below her rising and falling breasts, dragging my gazing eyes down again and again. After a while, the temptation became too much; Long could not see down below my head level, so I moved my hand under Ping’s blouse, to enclose a breast gently; she sighed: asleep and dreaming, or pretending and dreaming also I couldn’t be sure. As I slowly squeezed and felt a nipple growing within her bra, I drifted my hand across, and then saw Ping’s hands moving up behind her back to unclasp her clips, allowing the bra to ease free and my hand to glide under to bare skin, a raised nipple catching my palm as I roved from the middle to the outside of her mound. She jumped a little, never opening her eyes, and stifling small moans by turning her head more into my groin: not a move destined to do anything but feel a bulge jump in return under her cheek. I spoke quietly “Ping is asleep, and I am going to sleep also, Long, are you ok? Give me an hour, and then find a place for a drink and rest, and I will wake up.” Long replied he was fine, needed to watch the road as this was his first time on this return trip.
I snuggled down, rolling Ping with her back against the length of the seat, right arm under her neck to encircle her but allowing that hand to reach and undo the top buttons of her blouse, giving my hand renewed access to the breasts and nipples and smooth, bare skin below. My left hand now went down, long enough to reach to her knee and slide up her thigh, fingers trailing nails and inducing trembles and goose-bumps in her skin, then just continued up under her skirt, almost unsurprised when I encountered wetness oozing around a bare pussy. Ping buried her face anew into my chest, undoing my own buttons and reefing the shirt aside to plant her lips around a small but erect nipple, perhaps more to keep her mouth quiet than any real erotic stimulation. I lazily moved my hand around her slit, hitting but not stopping on her clit – she sucked harder; I slid through the wetness down her other thigh, slopping juice wherever my hand touched, before returning to the source for another wet-handed swipe, this time inducing more as I slipped two fingers together straight inside her. Ping bit me! And I jumped, eased my fingers out, then in more slowly, pushing my knuckles against the whole outside of her and grinding against her clit; she closed her teeth against my nipple again and whimpered, and then she had reached her limit of waiting and reached for the simple one button of my shorts and noisily unzipped me, busting her hand inside to find what she wanted. I couldn’t see Long craning his neck to investigate, so I eased up off the seat and allowed Ping easier access and easier freedom for my drooling, constrained cock, and once she had that out, she swiveled away to face the back of the seat, hiking her skirt way up over her bum, exposing it without care, and reaching back to tug on my hips several times – leaving me in no doubt what she wanted and needed now. She reached back one more time, swirling her fingers around and squeezing my pre-juices out before sticking her fingers into her mouth and slurping me off. I pushed her hair away from her ear and cheek and neck and stretched my head down to slurp and kiss and lick and nibble her. Ping bucked and rolled, almost pushed me off to the floor as she shoved her bum against me, and I gave in, reached down to grasp my cock and with no need for directions, slid myself in an unerring single shove straight into her cunt. I jammed my hand on her lips.
Her scream was muffled, but her body squirmed and squealed noiselessly against me, as I removed myself and pumped more slowly, re-attaching my hand above to her ample tits, alternately rough and groping and then gently tickling and stroking. My prick was oh-so-hard inside her as I made love with her, there on the back seat of the car.
Ping repeatedly shoved herself back, and I obliged by meeting her with a full, stretched length, hitting bottom somewhere inside and causing her to orgasm and wet us more as she ejected juices between us. When I felt some sort of volcano shuddering against me – and after dismissing the fleeting idea it was an earthquake – I plunged in and held myself there, releasing the torrent labeled ‘Ping’ and riding the inevitable aftershocks once she had burst the sparks and flames from the volcano’s cone down from her –heart maybe- through the length of her womanhood and around my pumping prick. Even her nipples swelled under my hand as I squeezed each of them, and her whole self, to me, slithering my tongue against her neck and back, sucking salty sweat and biting her skin tightly but gently in the throes of climax.
We eased back on the tensions induced by mutual orgasms, and came back to earth from that floating kingdom of fulfillment, and lay there for a few minutes before I uncoupled from Ping, pulling her skirt down with a slight smack on her bare bottom, and fumbling my slippery, soaking cock back into my shorts. I reached for tissues in the pocket behind the front seat and wadded some to use to wipe lustily up Ping’s slit, and she jumped and whacked me away, giggling softly; taking the tissues from me, she fixed herself, reached under her blouse to fasten her bra, and slid over to the side before sitting up out of Long’s view. She was disheveled, looking just like a woman who had just had sex, and smiling so I took that as ‘good sex’. I probably looked exactly the same, as I too ruffled my hair a bit tidily, and sat up myself, meeting Long’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, non-judgmentally. “I love you, Ping,“ I whispered as I looked at her, “but not in a way I should love you; we need step back and be careful. Do you understand me, Ping – I need you understand” and I was in pain as I asked this. She whispered, leaning towards me much closer in reply “Yes, Mr. Steve, I do; and even if I am young, I can also know that Love exists in different ways: you have taught me that. So if- when- I say: ‘I Love You too’, it is not just a few words spoken and thrown away; but they are how I feel here” and she placed her right hand over her left breast and centred on her heart. “I love you” she repeated, crossing the gap and kissing me on the lips with a sweet, gentle touching which told me she was serious with her words. “I need fuel, sir; this is OK to stop here?” interrupted Long at that moment; I hesitated, but answered “Yes, Long, I need a toilet.”
Ping was recovered, as was I, so the stop was fortuitous, as Ping and I were feeling a little intense, both of us – yet she had assured me only this morning she could cope with her feelings, and I had agreed mine could be the same. Oh, lordy, this was becoming complicated! We got out of the car and both Ping and I, well actually Long also, headed for the toilets; as we stood there, urinating, Long said “Please excuse me, sir: just be careful.” I understood him, smiled and nodded “thanks, Long, I am”.
Ping bought a plate of snacks, and shared with us at a table; but I stood and stretched my bones as I drank a cold beer and smoked; Long filled the car with fuel then joined us for refreshments; back in the car, I went to sleep – immediately.
I vaguely felt Ping pull me across her lap this time, and I stretched my legs, but still with my feet on the floor – as I was much taller/longer than Ping – but happy to snuggle in to her body, my face pressed against her abdomen, and her hand stroking my head and hair. She leaned down, making her breasts press against my head, and kissed me on the cheek and head, lifting herself back up as I felt a wet spot dribble down my face from, without doubt, Ping’s eye. I circled my right arm around her waist and squeezed, and kissed her through her clothes – as another drop of sweet tears fell on my cheek. I squeezed her harder; no words could assuage her feelings – not now, not at this time. I used my left hand to slide under her blouse, to just touch her bare skin, not anything sexual, only to touch and stroke her skin-to-skin, try and show her I was feeling feelings the same or similar.
I hadn’t noticed before – how could I have missed? – Ping must have removed her bra totally at the rest stop, and she clearly wanted me to cuddle her more, using her hand to push mine up to cup her mound; I was gentle and only wanted to offer her comfort by stroking, but I changed hands: my left now cuddling her from behind, under her blouse to be sure, but my freer right hand, under at the front; I tried to show her my feelings gently stroking, while settling and going to sleep, also to show Ping how comfortable with her I was. I did sleep, until I felt the stop/start of city traffic and knew we were nearing home. I pulled my hands out from Ping’s blouse, looked up and smiled at her, kissed her skin before smoothing down her blouse, and sat up. Traffic was light at this time of a Sunday afternoon, so we were soon at Ping’s dormitory; she asked if she could run up to her room, get fresh clothes then come with me home to shower and put her dirty clothes in my washing machine; fine I said.
At home, I turned on the fan, then gave Ping an English lesson on instructions for using a washing machine, just as I had done for my housekeeper when I first bought it – in common with most people still, she and Ping had only ever washed by hand. I sorted her clothes and mine into coloured, whites and delicate, and put the first load in, explaining the few steps needed to work what is really a simple procedure. The water began to fill, so I told Ping we could go and relax now: all automatic from this point until finished. Ping looked at her fingernails and said “That’s how foreign women don’t break their nails, no washing by hand.” I laughed, but had to agree it was true in many cases. It was only 5pm, neither of us hungry at this stage, so Ping asked if she could have a rest until the washing was done, and I told her to go upstairs to the bedroom and turn on the a/c, while I turned on the TV and grabbed a beer to sit and catch up on BBC News and sport. An hour later, the washing was finished, so I took that load out, put in the delicates – bras, panties (including the three which were my presents), my underwear and lace blouses – and set that lot going on its slow, gentle cycle. Ping was quiet so must be sleeping on, so I carried the basket of washing out to the front courtyard and hung it on hangers on the drying frame; unusually for a man, especially a foreign man living here, I had no qualms about doing such a job, inviting laughs from many of my neighbours if they happened to see me doing such a ‘woman’s job’. I just smiled back and carried on, sometimes commenting: without a wife, I had to do things for myself!
There was a replay of a football game from last night on, so another beer and I watched that, and at the end of ninety minutes, the game ended just as the washing machine clicked off. I took the clothes out, separating my ‘panties’ from Ping’s, admiring the bras various designs, and their 34C size attesting to the handful Ping’s breasts were when I fondled them; I grew hard in my shorts instantly, so cut off those thoughts and hung that washing out, before putting in the whites which required soaking and some bleach, and would take a much longer time. Now I heard the shower running upstairs, and guessed Ping would also be hungry for some food, so the washing could carry on while we went out somewhere to eat.
Ping appeared in another denim skirt and t-shirt, those 34C breasts outlined very nicely; I threw on a t-shirt which needed washing anyway, foregoing my shower as I wanted to wash my hair later, as I playfully ran my hand up under the back of her skirt along her thigh: “Just checking there are panties under here; good, there are! Let’s go eat.” “What about the washing?” Ping asked, so I touched her ear to listen to the machine working, then steered her out the door to show her I had taken care of matters; locked up and we walked around the corner to a noodle restaurant. While waiting, I ordered a beer and water for Ping, and I looked across the small table at her freshly-washed hair hanging down – god, I love long hair – her face only with a touch of lip gloss but no other make-up to cover her flawless skin; moved my eyes down to her breasts resting on the edge of the table – is that comfortable for women, I often asked myself – and thought how beautiful she is. She was looking at my eyes when I moved them back to her face; “Like what you see?” she asked. “Oh, yes, I do – that girl behind you at the other table is really pretty.” She scrunched her tissue and threw it at me, scowling but with a big grin quickly replacing it. Our bowls of noodles arrived, and I struggled through half of mine, full, and Ping finished my bowl after hers was empty! “How do you stay so slim, Ping, and yet eat so much?” “Hot exercising” she replied, blinking her eyes at me in a suggestive manner, no further words required to understand her meaning, and I blushed, to her great amusement. She reached across the table to stroke my hand a little, laughing and cooing “Oh, poor Mr. Steve, its ok; just joking!” I moved my chair back from the table, pouting as if upset, but really to distance myself from Ping and other diners while I lit a cigarette. We sat there while I slowly emptied my beer bottle, enjoying as I always did, watching life moving up and down the street, reflecting yet again why I love being here, being part of the local community, accepted as a foreigner/local who doesn’t portray himself as ‘hi-so’, and can have food and drink and fun with local people even more than with bulging-wallet foreigners, for whom a $1 bowl of noodles, sitting on a small plastic chair here on the street, surrounded by a mayhem of humanity, would never be acceptable. It always is to me, the visitor here, and a happy temporary resident.
“One more small bottle of beer, Ping, ok? Then the washing should be finished when we go home.” “You drink a lot of beer, Mr. Steve….” “Yes, Ping, but have you ever seen me drunk, or being bad when drinking?” “No,” she had to agree, as I never was. If I was in a melancholy mood, and drinking too much, it was only ever by myself, but even then I never drank to the point where the next one would see me fall ‘over the edge’ as I often compared it to: I always stopped before then. I ordered another beer; Ping smiled, acknowledging I was decider of my own destiny, and perhaps knowing she had stepped close to the boundaries between lover and wife, and only if she was the latter could she berate me for having a beer – even then I would decide for myself, as I currently, and previously did.
I ‘cheered’ her bottle of water with my glass to ease any fears she may have had, and I looked over her shoulder: “Oh, that girl has gone! I wanted to see her legs, damn!” She threw another tissue at me, relaxing visibly, and rubbing her legs against mine under the table; “There are legs here” she said emphatically; “Oh, yes, they must have been the legs I was thinking of.”
We finished, paid and walked home arm-in-arm, not like an old foreigner with a young local woman, but as friends often do, close friends. I was very wary of upsetting local traditions amid fears of a ‘foreign cultural invasion’ and fought stubbornly to project myself as I indeed am: respectful of my place here.
The washing was finished, so I let Ping hang out the small amount of whites, and settled on the sofa for a few minutes to see what games were on tonight, but in truth I was tired, and needed shower and sleep. First, however, I got my camera, removed the finished roll and put it with the other four to take to my film shop in the morning, plus the one of Yen at the beach which I hadn’t yet developed; then I cleaned my camera and lens. I thought of another beer, but smiling to myself, I decided against; Ping had rejoined me on the sofa, but then disappeared upstairs before returning and walking across my vision line to the TV – on purpose, no doubt, as she had changed and now had wrapped Yen’s material around her body to sit beside me. Gosh women are devious – the whole lot of them I had long since decided. “Can I stay here tonight, Mr. Steve – my washing isn’t dry yet to take home, and maybe Long could drop me and my washing at my dorm in the morning. Is that all right with you, kind man Mr. Steve, please?” She stroked my arm as she pleaded. I laughed, “Yes, Miss Hollywood, that’s a sensible idea. I am going to shower and wash my hair – here” and I threw the remote into her lap, rising and heading upstairs still laughing. When I finished, Ping was in bed, sitting propped against the pillow, naked breasts hanging on the edge of the quilt, and her arms crossed underneath; she was watching my frontal reflection as I faced the mirror, seeing her reflection as I cleaned my teeth, my bare behind exposed to her looks. “How can such a ‘small thing’ grow to such a ‘monster thing’?” she asked as she pointedly directed her eyes to my groin as shown in the mirror. In response to her words and the view of her, my cock jumped, and I stepped sideways away from the mirror to finish in peace. I gargled with Listerine, brushed my hair out, then turned off the light as I walked to the bed; cock bigger than ‘small’ flopping around in front of me. Ping had rolled herself over on her side, facing away from me as I slid in circling my left arm under her neck and across her breasts, hand ideally placed to be filled with the mound of her right breast, a nipple ready to be played with by my fingers. There was no thought of sleeping just now, as my prick grew in length and girth, pressing hard below at her buttocks, as I stretched my right hand down to find her slit and probe fingers up and down, and in, stimulating the secretions ready for me. I played with her clit same as I was playing with her nipple, and she groaned and shook, and then her juices were copious as I rolled her fully over on to her front, and then used my right hand under her, pushing against her pussy to raise her buttocks in the air. She pulled her legs up and knelt on the bed, as I knelt between her and grabbed her hips now to place her just right, as I lined up my prick and buried it full length inside her. She collapsed flat on the bed as she screamed, pulling me free, but I lifted her and plunged straight back in, this time holding her up so she couldn’t escape, and I ploughed her tunnel like a tractor ploughing a field, her body shaking and expanding for me, and contracting against my cock as I sought to pull it out each time to dig in yet again. Ping squeaked and moaned, and groaned and screamed out as her orgasm began and peaked, and that’s when I slowed and began just enough sliding in and out to keep her at that level I hoped. I leaned down to kiss all over her back, wet with sweat now, and used my teeth to nip her here and there, especially around the sides of her breast mounds as they were flattened out; up to her neck, burrowing my face through her hair to fasten my teeth gently on the nape of her neck, like a wild male tiger might do to his mate, the one chosen to receive his mighty prize; I could not deliver the same to Ping, no little ones could result from this mating, but the feelings could perhaps be more than sexual coupling for procreation purposes, and I did my best to impart those feelings of both wildness and humaneness via the cock embedded in Ping, the hands roving and the tongue and mouth sucking and kissing. She couldn’t last, and she shoved herself back against me, causing my prick to bury at its fullest stretch, bouncing against her womb, stimulating both of us to the final expression of sexual exhaustion: a tidal wave of Ping’s juices meeting my expulsion of available ejaculations like crashing on to a rocky cliff face, creating a gigantic meeting of opposite forces.
Whew! It was collapse and heavy breathing time, immobile after Ping flopped straight down to the bed, my body following on top of her, as her small suctions inside her vagina drained the last spasms from my prick. Between pants I said “I thought you were here to sleep!” “That was my ‘good night’ cuddling” she laboured in reply. I shoved what was left of my cock hard in her, and she groaned. “That was my ‘good night’ cuddling Miss Ping.” I pulled out slowly, the sucking such a beautiful feeling, and flopped to the side, able to raise the energy to kiss the side of her face, bidding ‘sleep well, Ping’. She didn’t even answer as we both fell asleep.
In the morning I woke, not to my alarm, but to wetness on my face, and as I fully woke, realized Ping was cuddling me to her breasts with her face buried against my head, and her tears were indeed running down. “Ping, what’s wrong?” I asked, while my brain and my heart already knew a plausible answer. “Nothing, Mr. Steve, I am just so happy lying here with you” and she squeezed me tightly to her bosom.
I pushed up the bed to wipe away her tears and kissed her eyes and cheeks, just as the alarm went off. I ushered Ping to the shower, said I would shower downstairs, and pulled her up off the bed with a warm embrace. I threw on a pair of shorts and went downstairs but, before showering, I went outside and gathered ‘my’ panties and Ping’s clothes which didn’t need ironing; the balance for ironing Mrs. Phung, my housekeeper, could do – I had done the washing so she wouldn’t mind doing a bit of ironing in exchange, I was sure. Shower, teeth, and upstairs to dress for work; Ping was toweling herself dry, and I paused to look at her: she was incredibly beautiful, even more so without clothes - and she even blushed under my stare. I put away my panties, folded up Ping’s things, then dressed as Ping came into the room and dressed herself, ready for Uni in jeans and a sober, asexual top, suitably demure and in contrast to the past 3 days’ outfits. I kissed her, and went downstairs to make a coffee, as I heard Long pull up outside; I called to Ping, and told her to go with Long then send him back while I had my coffee, as I had time but she needed get home and get to class. She came down, a plastic bag of clothes and whatever; she asked about her other clothes, but I said Mrs. Phung would take care of them; she hugged me, kissed my cheek and I saw her out, telling Long.
Ping turned to me, something she needed to say, “I will talk to Yen later today; I must tell her.” “Tell her what Ping?” “Tell her I Love You, Steve.” She kissed me quickly on the cheek and jumped into the car, before I could respond. Oh my, what I feared seems to have become reality, and what I didn’t want was to cause pain.
While waiting for Long to return, I phoned Yen; it was a good time, her lunch-time, but she was engaged; five minutes later, same; another five minutes and she answered. “Steve, Ping has already phoned me; she said you are such a nice man, she is feeling so deeply emotional about you. Daddy, it’s ok; I knew what I was doing, and I still know. But it’s only a short time until I will be there for holidays, and until then, I do not want you lonely and alone. I talked with Ping and calmed her down; she loves you - of course, as do I, and we will work it out together. Meanwhile, she tells me you all had a great weekend!” “Yen, yes, we did; but my wonderful daughter, I don’t like seeing tears on Ping or anybody else – I don’t want to cause pain to anyone, and certainly not you. But, god, I miss you; I miss being able to say “I love you with all my heart”; Ping and her cousins yes, I love them, but not as I Love You. Do you understand me Yen?” “Yes, Steve, I do, and they do too; you are just a bit too nice! Daddy, I have to go to class; coming soon, I promise – holidays are only two months away. I Love You.””Me too my little one.”
Long hadn’t returned yet, so I phoned Ping. “Ping, are you ok?” I asked concerned. “Yes, Mr. Steve. I phoned Yen and told her everything, and she was so good and now I am fine. I am in my room, but I need run for class now.” “Ok Ping, I just wanted to be sure; I also phoned Yen and she said the same to me. Ping, come and pick me up after work if you’re not busy and we’ll go to dinner at Phung’s, then you can come home and collect your ironing, ok? Oh, and I will have the photos for you to see!” “See you about 6pm, Mr. Steve. Luv you, ‘bye”
On the way to the office, I directed Long to my film shop; while he had to drive around the block as no parking allowed in peak hour, I took my fsix films and found the manager, a friend of long standing. I told him quietly these were ‘private’ and I would appreciate him developing them himself and keeping them for me. He understood and accepted my ‘token’ of appreciation. Back to normal and off to the office, updating the manager on my regional office visits, then settling in to my daily functions. At the end of the day, I went downstairs and found Ping waiting, casually dressed in skirt and a blouse and looking lovely; we hopped on her bike, having told Long earlier he could go home early, and I steered her the few minutes to the photo shop. The manager met me, said they were really well developed – maybe he meant the girls I thought –so I paid and thanked him, joking that I hoped he hadn’t kept any copies but also seriously checking I had the negatives in the bag. He replied he had only done his job as a professional, and the only copies were the second set I had asked him to make and they were in the bag I held; I apologized for the joke as we shook hands smiling. Back on the bike, my hands resting on Ping’s upper thighs for balance and support, and we headed to Phung’s restaurant.
Once there, with Phung immediately going for my beer and ice, and lemon juice for Ping, I opened the bag and began looking at the photos, denying Ping a look until I had decided they were of a good standard, and thanking my trusty old Nikon for still taking superb photos. Then I handed the first one to Ping, the set of Yen mostly at the resort where we had met Ping, but after looking through them myself and smiling at the memories. Then I checked the other folders; the first one started with Ping herself, when she had come to my house the first time, followed by the dozens taken of this past weekend with the three girls. Gosh, so many of them were so erotic I felt myself hardening in my pants, glad I was hidden under the table as I drank some beer to cool down. Ping carefully studied the ones of Yen, now and again remarking how beautiful she was; then she moved on to look at herself in the first ones of the next folder, smiling and quite rightly admiring herself. She looked up at me “You take beautiful photos, Mr. Steve” “It’s easy when the subjects I am looking at through the camera are so beautiful, Miss Ping.” “Is that what I am: ‘a subject’?” “No, Ping, you are a unique and beautiful young woman, and I adore you, and you can also be a ‘subject’ in my photos any time – you are stunning.” She blushed and continued looking, just as Kim made her usual glamorous way to our table, also dressed in a short skirt and blouse; she kissed Ping on both cheeks, I declined the offer knowing Kim would probably plunge a tongue down my throat to my stomach, just to embarrass me, and she sat next to Ping, grabbing for the first photo folder and squealing when she saw Yen displayed there. Apart from the folder Ping had, which clearly I couldn’t hide, I put the others beside me on another chair – they were quite a bit more private and only if Ping agreed would I show them to Kim.
Kim ‘ooh’d’ and ‘aah’d’ as she flicked through the ones of Yen, while Ping was now staring mesmerized at the ones of Tuan which finished the whole film which her photos had started. She said “Oh Tuan is an amazing model isn’t she?” “Tuan is an absolute natural, cute and beautiful and she seemed to feel just like she was on a catwalk when I took those; yes, amazing I agree. Then again there is a certain Ping in some shots who also seems to be natural at posing for a camera.” I was referring to a few I had taken of Ping posed around the door frame of the balcony, and they were equally stunning. She blushed, remembering, but had yet to see those as they were in the next folder on the chair to my right. Kim asked “Where are they?” I looked at Ping without replying, raising my eyebrow in a silent question; Ping said “Its fine, Mr. Steve, I imagine Kim will enjoy them all.” So I put the remaining folders on the table, but firstly I went through them again; yes, indeed Ping was delectable – “Dinner” I said, “Ping you should order some food or we will be here all night; and another beer please” as I motioned for Phung to come over. Phung gave us the menu, then ran off for my beer, before returning to take the folder of Yen’s photos, while Kim stared at Tuan’s, and Ping now found those of herself, and then the weaving village and tour ones, laughing at the ones of the girls really ‘acting’ for the camera. The next ones were at the lakeside restaurant, and they were erotic of Liem and Ping – no wonder I had pre-cum on my pants when I had finished shooting them – then the drive back to the hotel, and even the few I had shot by the room lighting when they were all so beautiful and ready for dinner had turned out soft and misty and really nice, I congratulated myself. Of course, those I had taken of the three of them in bed the next morning none of them had know about, so when Ping reached those in the folder she gasped, and both Kim and Phung leaned over to see what photo she was looking at: they also gasped, but Phung was called then, and had to run. Kim grabbed the folder and looked at one photo after another, with Ping desperately trying to get them back! “Oh wow, Steve, why don’t you ever take photos of me?” Kim pleaded, handing them back to Ping; “Phung and I would like some nice ones too.” “Ok, Kim, I will, soon, promise.” Ping studied them again, looking at me and I said “It was just so beautiful Ping, the three of you, I had to. One day I’ll tell you the fantasy shots I dreamed of after I had finished taking these – now they would have earned an ‘oh, wow!’” Ping just said “They are beautiful, Mr. Steve, really.” She moved on to look at the ones in the park, which actually I thought were good enough to be in a fashion magazine – with the right fashion clothes of course – and then dinner was served. Truly, I was so aroused by re-living the photo sessions I wasn’t at all hungry for food, but I was almost of a mind, and certainly capable of ducking under the table and eating of Ping, or Kim, or both. I looked around, but there were other patrons nearby and my sense of propriety came to the fore.
Ping began eating, but Kim was still working her way through the photos, said she would eat later with Phung. When she reached the end of the last folder, Kim sat forward on the edge of her chair and quickly shoved her foot on to my groin, my bulge still large though somewhat less than a few minutes before. Kim rubbed a little, then sat back as I jumped back; she looked hotly at me, “I know how these made me feel, so I wanted to see how you were doing, Steve; I bet Ping is feeling just as aroused, aren’t you sweet-thing?” and she leaned over to feel her face with the back of her hand, and then plant a lingering kiss on her cheek. Ping blushed. And that was when I ignored anybody nearby, deliberately knocked my fork to the ground, and when I bent down, I was low enough to easily continue down and under the table, one crouched step and I put both hands on a leg in front of me, pulling them together in the middle, then spreading each outside leg to the side, opening two sets of thighs to me. They both squirmed close to the front of their seats, and I was well concealed, as a hand went under each opened skirt, sliding to wet, sopping, panties covering Kim’s pussy, but an open, sopping pussy with no panties on Ping! Oh, Yen, you have taught her too well!
I shoved fingers at Kim’s panties, poking them aside and plunging into her, while moving my mouth as far up between Ping’s legs as I could, forcing her to widen them until my snaking tongue reached her bare, open slit, and I lapped at her. I heard moans from above, then Phung returning, asking “Where is Mr. Steve?” “He’s looking for dessert” groaned out Kim, as I plunged two fingers hard into her. Phung said in alarm “Kim, what’s wrong….oh, he’s not is he?” “Kim said “Wait until you see his photos, Phung! You’ll understand; anyway, he will need another beer and ice in a minute if you could; he will be hot. Oh my god….” Her voice trailed off as I continue pumping fingers up and down, now using my thumb on her clit, and she came gushing and squirming against my hand locked inside her and against her, which I held there as she pulsed around me. Meanwhile, Ping also was leaking copiously onto my tongue and I pushed it into her as far as I could; she had put one hand under the table and pushed my head against her hard, and I flattened my tongue against her clit and rasped it like sandpaper up her slit, then down to poke it inside again. That was enough and she jumped, dislodging my tongue as she squeezed my head in the vice of her thighs and groaned loudly above me; Kim must have done something to muffle her, as she came again lathering my face with juices, but easing off a little to let me at least breathe as I eased away.
“Found it” I announced, holding the fork up as I reappeared above the table, quickly glancing around, but all appeared normal – except for the faces of Kim and Ping, and no doubt my own, as I grabbed some tissues and wiped my perspiring face, and ran my fingers through my hair – sticky with Ping’s juice, which I smoothed in my fingers and stuck in my mouth. Kim’s arm was around Ping’s shoulders, and her hand was stroking her face, as we all calmed and sat back. I handed some tissues to both of them, and also stuck a couple down my own pants where my own leaking threatened to seep through and show everybody if, when, I stood.
Phung returned with a new beer and ice, asking “How was our dessert, Mr. Steve – that was our free sample offering.” “Just beautiful, Miss Phung; I am sure I will order the same again.” She laughed, “Anytime, I am sure.” Ping and Kim both slumped there, and said, at the same time “Oh god”; they looked at each other and we all laughed. Then they both sighed, and announced they needed go to the restroom, and they rose, just like a pair of drunks, and supported each other as they walked away. Phung reappeared, “What have you done to them?” “It just happened, Phung….”

I shrugged my shoulders, in a sign it just was; it just was: a release from the eroticism of the photos – and I hoped the film shop manager hadn’t studied them like us, and had a similar reaction in his shop!
I also left the table for the restroom, needing to check that my appearance was ‘ok’, especially my groin area. I washed my face, used the communal comb which one finds always in restrooms, but which I rarely use, just enough to comb it out until I went home and washed it, and was back at the table before the girls. I sat with my beer and a cigarette, and watched them when they did appear, meticulously fresh and made-up and seeming to have renewed energy as they strolled arm-in-arm, yet seductively, entrancing any and all they passed: Hollywood had indeed arrived here I thought. Ping pronounced herself ‘full’; I wasn’t any more hungry for food other than I had had; and Kim was waiting to eat when Phung finished her shift. I asked Phung for the bill and settled up, draining my beer, and Ping and I both kissed Kim on one cheek, said ‘bye to Phung and Ping took me home – well, took us home, as she told me she had already collected her ironing from Mrs. Phung earlier, and she had told Ping she didn’t mind doing any washing and ironing Ping needed, as normally I didn’t give her enough work to keep her occupied just by myself, so she would feel less guilty about taking my money if she actually had more work to do! “It’s nice to have nice people around”, I said to Ping, squeezing her thighs where my hands rested while on the bike. Ping asked if she could shower in my house – and maybe stay….? I shifted my hands to encircle her waist momentarily, squeezing her; “You know I got pretty ‘hot’ back at dinner, don’t you Ping; you know what will probably happen if you stay with me?” “No, what will happen, Mr. Steve; I have no idea?” “Well, Ping, there’s a good chance I’ll rape you inside the gate, or certainly inside the house!” “Oh my, should I drive to the Police and tell them?” “Only if you want to be disappointed; only if you don’t want me inside you; only if you don’t want a nice, hot shower and also only if you don’t want me to lift up your skirt and show them what’s underneath! Yes, good idea, Ping, let’s go to the Police” “Very funny, you must be drunk so I should take you home, Mr. Steve.” She laughed, and I sneaked a kiss against her hair and neck.
At home, Ping parked her bike inside, and she locked the gate, seemingly unconcerned at my threat of rape. Inside she headed straight upstairs and I heard the shower running soon after. So, I used the downstairs bathroom, washed her juices from my hair and refreshed myself under the cold water, but my cock wouldn’t go down to a cold, small thing; it remained ready, as I turned everything off, checked the door and headed upstairs. Ping was still in the shower, but she was waiting for me: she had her back pressed against the wall, the water cascading down her body, and her hands holding her pussy lips open. I entered the bathroom, and I entered Ping in one, gentle rape, thrust. She put her arms around me and held my back, and then moved them to my bum, which even her small hands could easily hold, to pull me firmly against her; I bent my head and my teeth grabbed her tit, and I sucked and nibbled quite hard, putting my own hands under her buttocks and lifting her as I thrust harder, and again. It was almost a rape as I couldn’t contain myself but not a rape as Ping thrust herself back just as strongly when I ploughed my cock inside her, and she screamed first, and bent her head down to bite on my ear, and I came and came and then some, deep inside, crushing her against the wall and moving my hands to shift her buttocks and pelvis to feel me everywhere within. She bit harder until I eased back and then she collapsed against me, her face buried on my chest, and her hands sliding up and down my back, digging into my skin almost as hard as Tuan had a few days ago. She raised her head, and her hands, and grabbed my face to hold me while she plunged her tongue into my mouth and writhed and dug it totally into me. “I love you” she babbled, drawing back, “I can’t help it; not for this, no… yes… for this, but because of you, just because of you…” she cried, and I held her. “Oh, Ping, please; I am here for you, now, this moment.” I kissed her, this time the passion from me, and I squeezed her to me so closely, we could have been con-joined. She said she hadn’t yet washed, she had been only waiting for me, so I took some soap and washed myself again a little, then spread more soap over her body; she took my hands away when she shivered at my touch on her nipples, said she would finish by herself – save water! I stepped out, used the small hand towel and cleaned my teeth and gargled as I dripped water off, watching Ping. Then I went to my bed, our bed I guess, and laid there for a few seconds, and fell asleep!


I was stirred awake with a mouth sucking greedily on my cock; it was limp and taking a while to respond, so I vaguely guessed Ping had just come to bed, perhaps. But a mouth can do wonderful things and soon she was taking longer to go from the tip to almost all the way down, but she couldn’t swallow it all. When I was straight and rigid, Ping shifted her feet alongside my hips, opened herself with one hand and lined up my cock with the other, and sat herself all the way down, a keening sound rising from her throat in decibel grades as she hit bottom and our groins mashed together. I had nothing to do - Ping began bouncing herself, so I pushed my hands up her abdomen to her breasts, holding each one full in my hands, fingers rubbing and teasing nipples. Ping must have learned from me as she raised herself at times to stroke just the first few cms of me inside her, and then plunged down fully, maybe up to do that all again, or maybe not – just the way I like to make love when I am in control, heightening the senses then relaxing them a little, not knowing when it would be deep or when shallow, nor how many times. I moved my hands around her mounds to the sides, stroking fingers up her back as far as they could reach, then down to her buttocks and slid fingers along her cleft and under to feel her slit opening and closing around my prick; I soaked up juices on a finger and moved it back to her anus and slid it easily in straight to the second knuckle as she squealed and plunged fully down against both my cock and my finger. “Oh god, yes, I do love this also!” Ping moaned out, throwing her head back, her hair flying around, whipping her face, as she began a long series of deep squats on me, my finger gliding fully in her arse, tickling on the walls of her, feeling my own prick being thrust upon just on the other side of that membrane separating her channels. My hand was soaked, so I maneuvered a second finger inside, stretching her a little more to join the first, and she sat heavily down, three prodding big sticks in her, stimulating her like this for the first time. She came, moaning louder, swiveling herself around my prick and fingers, feeling them touching everywhere inside of her. I began pumping up even harder and came in a rush to join her, prolonging my pumps trying to keep her orgasm going, and going…until it was impossible to maintain the intensity and she fell forward on to my chest, my fingers slipping out, but not yet my cock. One of those silly thoughts occurred: ‘why did we shower before?’ I smiled, answering myself with ‘love-making should be spontaneous most times; apart from using more water, we could always shower again if we wanted.’
Ping straightened her legs down the bed, keeping her pelvis tightly against mine, to keep me inside for the final feelings and spasms of both of us; she lifted her face to mine and kissed me, slurping at and in my mouth and groping for my tongue. I reached a hand up to brush the hair away from her face, to stroke her cheek gently, my other arm around her back lazily moving up and down as our heartbeats stopped thumping against each other’s chest and settled into a more regular rhythm. Eventually, a used, limp dick slipped noisily from her and flopped down, dripping juices off down the inside of my legs to the bed. Ping sighed “I wanted it to stay there –forever.” “Difficult to go to Uni or work like that, don’t you agree?” I joked. “I wouldn’t care” she responded, “even if that’s stupid to say: I wouldn’t care one bit.” I rolled her off me to the side, still cuddling her but managing to pull up the quilt over us, and I kissed her gently many times; “Sleep now, Ping, this will turn from dream to reality in the morning.” “NO! NO! This IS my reality, Steve; I don’t want another one, no I don’t!” She was weeping, and I kept my mouth closed, except to suck the tears dripping down her face, and squeezed her body closely to mine. She was shaking, but I remained quiet, just ‘shush, shush’ against her face, willing her to calmness in my arms. Perhaps five minutes later, she was, and her breathing became regular, so I eased away a fraction, and hoped she truly was asleep, as I drifted off with a troubled mind.
I woke to the alarm, finding myself on my back with Ping’s leg across my lower body and her face buried under her hair on my chest. I stirred her awake, and she woke with the last thought from last night “Is this reality now?” I kissed her head, “Yes, Ping it is; if you want me to keep feeding you dinner, I have to go to work and earn a salary. And you have to go to Uni so you can get a good job and help take care of me when I am very old!” “Oh, Mr. Steve, you will never be old, and yes, I will take care of you anyway; can I cook dinner for you tonight?” “Actually, no, Ping, I have a business group function to go to, and will eat snacks there, and tomorrow I am going to the north for two nights, back Friday; let’s make it Saturday, then we have plenty of time and the weekend. Ok?” She was disappointed, but even though I was telling a ‘white lie’ about my trip away – I was going over night, but only one – I wanted her to re-adjust to being herself, and by herself, hoping she would be able to enjoy her own space, and step back from the void which I feared she was staring into. “Oh, ok, maybe I’ll make lunch for after you finish work, and invite Kim and Phung.” I agreed, kissed her once, and rose from the bed, dragging my body across her, cock dangling around her breasts, growing even as her nipples were erecting, and she reached up to catch it in the valley of her mounds, squeezing them in tight around me. I slipped down and out, springing into the air – my cock also – and grinned at her, saying I would shower downstairs and we could go in the car together when Long arrived. Ping pouted, holding her breasts up to me, so I leaned back down and bit on a nipple, then ran away.
After dressing, and remembering to take a tie to put on for tonight’s gathering, I had time for my coffee before Long arrived and we left. Ping held my arm in the car, and quickly kissed me when we pulled up at her dorm; I could see two girls looking at her as she exited, then they were clearly asking her what she was doing in a car with a foreign man; Ping looked back at me, smiling widely, and blew me a kiss! I told Long to hurry and go, and he laughed. That’s all I needed: gossip around the campus, but at least it meant I left a smiling, happy Ping there.
That evening’s function was an industry monthly gathering, good for networking and handing out business cards, and even sometimes making meaningful contacts; but generally they weren’t my choice, and I wouldn’t go except it was part of my job. I did the usual, got bored, drank the free beer and ate a few snacks so I could tell anyone who asked that I had had dinner – avoiding any possible invitations to go and eat later. One lady intrigued me when I caught her looking at me several times; she appeared almost foreign but more from her demeanour and ease in this business crowd perhaps, taller than most local women, and quite a beauty; she was wearing a business outfit: black skirt and matching blazer, middle button done up which accentuated the tight fit and drew attention upwards to her breasts, a shirt underneath suitably unbuttoned just enough to demurely expose cleavage. If one could then drag their eyes away to her face, she was beautiful, but with perhaps more make-up than local women generally require on their perfect skin. Her hair was black and long, lustrous and natural, but with a salon’s curls adding glamour.
After perhaps an hour, aware of her scrutiny, she wandered over to get a new drink from the bar as I was doing; “Rather boring these things aren’t they?” she spoke in excellent English. I answered with a local expression, which basically meant “They sure as hell are!” She laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you, Steve? My name is Trinh, I am Ha’s cousin and I was at your wedding – but of course that’s now quite a few years ago, so we were all much younger then. My mother is Ha’s mother’s younger sister, Linh, then aunty Kim is the youngest…that help you understand?” “Oh, of course, hello Trinh; I see Kim and Mae quite a lot, but I haven’t seen your mother, and I must confess I only remember a little girl running around whose name was Trinh. Boy, I must be getting old, as there is nothing little about you now! Oh sorry, that didn’t come out right: I meant, yes, you have grown up Trinh.” I was blushing, so she smiled and adroitly raised her glass to cheers, and allowed me time to re-compose myself.
We then exchanged business cards for starters, and I was impressed with her credentials, hadn’t known she had gone to Australia on a scholarship and finished Uni in Melbourne with an architect’s degree, and also a follow-up business degree, before deciding her opportunities lay back here, and she had only relocated two weeks ago when she had received a very good job offer. She caught up on my current situation, happy for me re-settled here, but seeming to reserve comment about my wife staying behind and not joining me. She fluttered her eyelashes, saying “Actually, I only came tonight hoping to see you.” I looked quizzically at her. “I see Ha often in Melbourne, of course, and she helped sponsor me, and helped me settle there a lot. I also am close to Yen; in fact, she came with me to the airport when I flew here, and drove my car home for me. She told me you and she re-acquainted ‘very closely’ when she was here. In fact, Yen gave me your mobile and told me to catch up, but I have been shy to call you, so I came tonight. Ha also wanted me to send her, ah, ‘loving regards’ were her words, to you.”
Luckily, with my mind reeling – Yen again! – We were interrupted by two guys coming to join us, clearly not wanting me to monopolise the whole evening of such a beautiful woman. They introduced themselves, we all swapped cards, talked business for five minutes, before I excused myself, said Trinh was family of my ex-wife and we were catching up on family news of recent years, and would they mind… They backed away but unhappily, promising to catch her later. Trinh sighed and mouthed ‘thanks’ as we refilled our glasses, Trinh’s white wine while I remained with beer. “That’s what we are here for, Trinh: wave our companies’ flags and sometimes, rarely but sometimes, it does work and we get projects or ventures from meeting someone here. It’s a necessary evil. Shall we circulate a bit, I know some people here so we’ll start by introducing you to the ones I think won’t bore you to death.”
For another hour, we did just as I had said, until Trinh found me again and said “I have run out of my business cards, and I have so many I will never remember who they are from. Can we go now, Mr. Steve – please?” She had reverted to Vietnamese, automatically addressing me courteously, as one younger to one older, and I was pleased she hadn’t become too foreign to forget her traditional manners. “Yes, Trinh, do you need a lift home, I still have my driver and car waiting downstairs?” “Yes, please, Mr. Steve; I have a motorbike but I took it home and came here by taxi; my apartment is not too far, and on the way to your house from what Yen told me.” We said our goodbye’s and walked to catch the elevator with several other early-leavers, finding the confined space quite, well: confining, so Trinh was backed up against me, while I had the wall at my back. I’d swear she was closer than absolutely necessary, pressing her buttocks against my groin but, with ten floors to descend and stopping at some of them for others to enter, she got the inevitable result: a rising bulge pushing back at her of its own volition, nothing I could tell it helped my cock deflate, it just rose, stabbing Trinh wherever it jumped, and pushing her skirt between her legs as she, in turn, took another small step back against me. I lightly put my hands on her hips and pushed her away a few cms, holding her there, but she just squirmed her bum around like moving from one foot to the other. I was glad when we reached the ground floor and everyone shuffled out, me last, willing for a few more seconds to recover. It didn’t help, as Trinh turned to wait for me, eyeing my body from groin to groin, then she linked her arm with mine, smiling, as we headed for the car parked outside. Long opened the rear door for Trinh to enter, giving me a questioning smile; I frowned gently at him, told him she was ex-family and we had just met at the function after many years, and would he please get in the car and ask directions to her apartment.
Sliding into the back seat beside Trinh, she was closer to the centre than her side, her skirt higher above her knees with her legs crossed. “Nice legs” I spoke the thought out loud, before adding “oh, sorry Trinh” and blushing yet again. Trinh just said “Thank you”, and put an enigmatic smile on her face, looking at me. She had told Long where to head, and indeed it wasn’t far from my house, within walking distance in fact, so reaching Trinh’s apartment block, I told Long to go home, and I would walk the short way to my house. Trinh invited me in, saying she had some recent photos of Yen, and Ha, if I wanted to see – and she did have some beer. I accepted, and we entered her 3rd floor apartment; it was very comfortable, provided furnished by her new company, and she sat me on the sofa while she went to the kitchen for two beers, and then rummaged around for the photos. She handed a folder to me, and then stood back removing her blazer, fluffing her hair out and showing me the curvature of her ample bust as she raised her arms up to her head. ‘Nice’, was my thought as I stared, until she caught me.
I turned my attention to the photos, digital camera shots I noted, without the clarity and definition my Nikon could give if used correctly, but I was happy to see Yen from just recent times; some were posed ‘Hollywood’, some more natural, and she looked buoyant and vibrant, and very beautiful. “I can see it written on your face, Mr. Steve: Yen is beautiful, that’s what you are thinking, right?” “Yes, Trinh, I was”, and as I turned the page, I was looking at my ex-wife’s face. The first one in the folder showed her full-length, and I noticed she had slimmed considerably since I had last seen her some years before, when she confessed she had taken to eating too much junk food. Trinh remarked “Ha has been dieting and looks pretty good, yes?” “Yes, she does; almost the same as when we were…together; she truly was beautiful in those days, so I am glad she hasn’t kept the fat that I last saw her bulging with.” There were more shots of Ha, some with Yen together, then I came to some posed, almost studio shots of Trinh, and she was outstanding; someone professional, or almost, had obviously set her up for the shots, and they were really good; sexy and provocative, beguiling and sweet, lying down, sitting, standing; a very good set of a gorgeous woman.
I said “Whew” as I swallowed some beer, “Lots of beauty there; who took the ones of you Trinh, they are really excellent, and obviously you know how beautiful you look.” “Oh thank you, Mr. Steve; yes, I have a friend who runs a studio, so he just took those with my camera for me. I have others he has taken of me with his cameras, but maybe you wouldn’t be interested in seeing those, and they are a bit more, ah, revealing.” “I’d love to see them Trinh; I love good photos, and have some I really like of Yen, plus some other girls Yen left to take care of me while she’s back in Australia. In fact, after Kim saw them, she wants me to photo her and her friend similarly.” Trinh looked at her watch – it was not yet 9p.m. and she said “Oh, can I walk with you and see them now; you have me intrigued” I said ok, but I had to fly out in the morning, so let’s make this a quick visit; then I invited her to lunch Saturday, when Ping, Kim and Phung would be there, and Trinh was family also. We decided on that, even as we finished our beers, and then descended in the lift to the parking basement for her bike.
Trinh hugged my arm, and planted a kiss – her first, our first – on my cheek, and was gushing as she said “I am so happy I went tonight and we met up; this has been my best night since I have been back, so far anyway!” She started her bike and I climbed on behind as normal; just as I had the questioning thought ‘does she drive like Yen and Mae and Ping’…we were off, just like them, so I grabbed her waist and held on, sliding straight into her back and buttocks at the first braking halt. Women – can’t trust them for sure!
At home, Trinh parked her bike in the courtyard, and I turned on lights and invited her in. She asked for water, and I took a beer, while giving her the folders of photos; she looked at me as she looked at Yen; “Have a nice time - you and Yen?” “Yes, we did, it was a really nice weekend; that’s where we met Ping, and Yen became quite friendly with her…” “Oh, yes, Yen told me about Ping; seems she has taken quite an interest in ‘taking care of you’, is that right?” “She is a really nice, young lady; yes, she is, and she and Yen talk a lot and Yen seems happy having Ping as a friend.” Then Trinh turned to the next folder, and the next one and she studied long and closely at the girls, asking me who was whom, as I sat beside her. It was when she came to the three of them in bed, before they’d woken on that morning in the hotel, that she really came alive – and she gasped, turning to me. She dropped the folder in her lap and grabbed my face and kissed me with passion, forcing her tongue between my lips and delving deep within my mouth, searching for my own reluctant tongue. I broke away “Trinh, we shouldn’t be doing this! I know they might make you hot – they sure make me hot when I look at them again – but you are close family and we shouldn’t…” I didn’t get any further, as Trinh pulled my face back to hers, and when locked mouth-to-mouth she moved her hands to mine and lifted them to her breasts, holding my hands while she began undoing buttons on her blouse, then when she knew I would continue this task, she moved her hands to my pants, scrabbling with the belt, the clasp, the zipper and reefing them down, so she could get into my underpants and grasp what she wanted. I was almost equally out of control as her bra-covered breasts appeared under the undone buttons, and I thanked heaven when I saw a front clasp on her bra; as my fingers locked on it, able to undone without my eyes, I lifted my face and kissed her mouth, then slurped around her neck, under her chin, to her ear, and nibbled there, then down her throat as the bra fell to the sides, locking my lips to every part of her mound as I moved ever closer to that peak which my fingers now circled and pulled and tweaked, and finally my mouth closed over her left nipple and sucked – hard. She had no milk, but that’s what I sucked for; and she screamed loudly, and thrust her breast up to me more; which breast, she seemed to be wondering as she writhed from left to right, her right breast encased in my hand, and the nipple in my fingers as my mouth continued on the left. She had, during this excitement for her, held her hands at the bulge in my underpants, but now she pushed them down to grab the cock which sprang up – sprang up so she had to chase it before she could actually close her hands around it, and then she sighed in contentment it seemed: the prize was hers.
She sat away suddenly, leaned back and with her own hands, undid her skirt’s clasp and zipper and shoved it down her legs, along with her silk thong panties – oh, what a photo was my fleeting thought - while I disentangled myself from my own pants and underpants. Trinh grabbed my prick in her hands and pulled - none too gently, so I had no option but to follow and lean over her, between her opened legs. “Trinh…” I could feebly protest, feebly try and ask if this is what we should be doing; no more words as she raised one hand to my mouth, stifling my speech, and replied “Yen told me to take care of you also. Now come here and kiss me!” She held my cock with one hand and stuck fingers in my mouth to pull me down to her mouth; when she had locked lips and mouths and tongues yet again, she used both hands to shift her buttocks more comfortably and raise her legs up over my shoulders, not only opening her vagina to me, but with strength applied to my buttocks by her feet, bringing my cock inexorably to her. I surged inside, and she immediately squealed and pumped down against me, cumming before I had even fully reached inside her. Wow! Trinh either had not had sex for a while, or not exciting sex, but it seemed she needed it. So I plunged and pulled out, and plunged again, while she continued squealing, then I changed my rhythm to slow and intermittently deep, she was easy to keep on the edge and then over the edge she flew again, and amazingly again and again; what a sensuous woman she was! She managed to gasp “Do it, Steve, do it now; cum for me!” And her words worked, and I plunged deeply, withdrew and plunged to my hilt again, then stayed there as I grew in girth, Trinh screamed, and I pumped the Rain from the Clouds within her, and she arched her pelvis to help me reach further within. “Oh god, oh god, I never thought a man could do this for me!” Trinh moaned, shaking her head, and her hair snaking around her face, so I used a hand to wipe it away to the side, and lay on top of her, crushing her beautiful breasts