latebloomer's originals

[latebloomer]

A few times Sally would pause to catch her breath, slither up his body, stopping to tongue his nipples before coming up to french him urgently. In her heated breath, L imagined he could taste himself, an alkaline bitter flavor that seemed alien and disgusting, yet felt strangely familiar.

Like a Japanese pearl diver, a gulp of air then down she went, her warm moistness capping him again, her tongue at once tactile, irresistible, pliant.

Sally brought him to the temple of Lust, placed him upon its altar, offered him up to Desire. L submitted to her ministrations, surrendering to her expertise, his passivity delivering enhanced sensitivity and intensified sensations.

A last gasp, another suppressed groan, and L conceded defeat, Sally letting him spilled his seeds, with no further attempts at prolonging the inevitable. She sustained the negative pressure to draw him out, her grasping fingers pumping the shaft till he was dry.

Another hot towel, more pampering. Sally returned from the bathroom and cuddled up to L, who was still too thrilled for words. He hugged her gratefully.

He luxuriated in the rightness of the moment, sensing a resonance in Sally's posture, and slowly grew hard again.

As their naked bodies abut, the softness of her breasts against his side, her taut shapely behind upon which his hand rested, her long leg draped around his midriff, kept his senses primed.

Sally's soft sensual caress, her fingers traveling from his chest to his lower abdomen, just barely touching the skin, kept his nerves tingling.

"Hmm...hello there!" After about twenty minutes: recharged and reloaded, and more than ready.

This time L took the controls. From her lips he trailed his tongue across to Sally's left ear, exploring with the sensitive tip the folds, eliciting a surprisingly intense response when he nibbled her earlobe.

"Ohhh...uhhh..." He felt her body stiffened, her breath hurried. In her low voice, Sally moaned.

His free hand encountered the softness of her full breasts, with long erect nipples which were extremely sensitive. So he shifted till he could take the left one in hand and the right between his lips. He suckled like a starved baby. The moaning intensified.

Incredibly, within a few minutes of this, Sally began to buck. Reaching down, he discovered overwhelming wetness and a tiny erection. Two fingers slipped into the well-lubricated inside, then a third. Sally gyrated her hips, humping his fingers, orgasmic.

tbc

[latebloomer]

Outside the windows, lights dotted the Malaccan evening. Traffic meandering along the main road provided a constant stream of beaming headlights and red taillights. It would be nice to just sit and enjoy this simple light-show, perhaps with a good cup of steaming coffee in hand.

The occupants of room 526 were otherwise occupied. These two were engaged in carnal activities that demanded total and complete abandon and focused absorption upon each other's disrobed person. In other words, they were screwing each other's brains out.

Theoretically L could have view the night scene if he chose to. He was facing the direction of the windows and all he had to do was lift his chin. From where she was, Sally could only stare up at the ceiling, upon which was a painted arrow that pointed towards Mecca.

However she was not seeing much of the ceiling either, not with her eyes closed half the time. So she could feel him better. Feel him on top, pumping her wet deep inside, feel his hands on her breasts, his fingers twiddling her nipples. Feel his chest against hers, his tongue at her erogenous ear lobe, going down her neck. Feel his sweat dripping off onto her equally sweaty body, the slickness concentrating at the lower abdomen where they were joined tightly. Feel his pubis rubbing her erect clit, and the urge to scream in abject pleasure mounting.

Sally was as hungry as he, if not more so. She made love like she was trying to burn it all up in one night. Vigorous, energetic, voracious and horny as hell. She knew what she liked and she told him so. No passive partner's role for her, no 'whatever-you-want-to-do-is-fine-by-me-I'll-just-lie-here'. More like 'squeeze here-yes harder-suck this-press that-lick them-yes yes-all the way-deeper-now fuck me-fuck me!'.

She liked it hard. In fact, 'harder, harder' was her next most frequently used phrase, right after 'yes, oh god, yes'. He was careful at first. Girls like gentlemen, or so he thought. Well, Sally like a gentleman too, but not in bed. She wanted a hard man, especially a man willing to work hard.

Entry was quick, Sally being so ready and well lubed. There she laid, honey-brown skin with pale areas around the breasts and groin; eyes bright and piercing, observant, pleading; breasts heaving with each breath; thighs apart, welcoming.

L knelt between her bent knees. Sally looking expectant, her head raised on pillows, eyes fixated on his stiffness. She held him, aimed him, and guided it in. Slowly he entered, sensing the gripping wetness enveloping his stiffness, watching her expression as he penetrated deep, hearing the long low 'aahhh!' she emitted. Her arms reached for him. All the way in now, he leaned in till his weight was mostly supported on his elbows and they embraced.

Starting slowly he began to pump, long slow withdrawal before slow deep penetration. Almost immediately Sally began to moan. As he upped the pace, she was bucking her hips to match his rhythm.

Very soon he was going at a steady rhythm. Now half kneeling, he held Sally's knees apart as he humped, smiling as he watched her breasts jiggling along. Sally was watching him, her half shut eyes misty, the oohs and aahs interspersed with lots of yes, oh god, yes.

"Yo! L!"
"Huh? "
"Drink up. Fan's buying the next round," Wolf said.
"You were somewhere my friend. Dreaming of Sally?" Ray teased.
"Nah. Just thinking of work."
"Sure, sure," Fan said, "And that's why you were drooling. Here, wipe!" Handing him a paper towel.

The End

[latebloomer]

1.The Legend of the Wolf (verse)
2.The Legend of the Wolf (story)
3.Soup
4.Sales
5.Nurse
6.Teach
7.He Dreams
8.Linda
9.The Shoplifter
10.The Maid
11.The Teacher
12.The Medium
13.Softly
14.To Forgive, Divine?
15.Goldie
16.Snow
17.Sleeping
18.That's what friends are for?
19.Love, Naturally
20.Teach
21.Moonlite
22.Highway
23.SARS
24.Sister Golden Hair
25.Scooby D,Where are you?
26.Office
27.Backache
28.Not an FR!
29.Not an FR, I swear!
30.The Wolf
31.Judy
32.Ray
33.Sally

[latebloomer]

Sandy came to see me again, the same shy smile on her face, the same voice saying the same sad things. She cried again, softly sobbing, crumpled tissues dabbing at her swollen eyes.

I held her, and felt again the futility of all this. I could do only this one thing well. Everything else was beyond my control. I got angry and even then the anger left too quickly, slipping away even before I could truly appreciate it. I felt weak; was weak. I tried hard and managed not to cry.

Things weren't so bad in the beginning, but things were always that way, weren't they? Entropy. Wear and Tear. Even relationships are not spared this sad and cruel fate it seems. It's the story of our lives.

She finished crying, rubbing at her eyes and trying to make light of it. I said nothing, just kept my mouth shut, like I always did. That was what I was there for. Not talk, not consolation, no speeches.

I saw her glanced at the clock and I knew she was considering how much time she had. I knew he wouldn't be back from his drinking so soon, wouldn't return before he was piss drunk, foaming and spewing vulgarities at the slightest provocation.

She kissed me on the lips, so softly, so tentatively. Her eyes displayed equal parts of fear and melancholy, old sad eyes in one so young. They looked at me with tenderness now, tinged with a yearning so chronic and pernicious. I held her tight against my scrawny chest, my heart bursting with the desire to sooth her painful soul, to ease her sufferings, if only for an instant. Gently, as if afraid I might damage her, I kissed back.

Her heart was thumping against my chest. She kept her eyes open during the kiss, as did I. Underscoring the tenderness we felt was a sense of inevitability, of having been manipulated into circumstances too complicated to decipher.

Silently she stepped back, moving on bare feet to my tiny bedroom, inviting me only with her steady glance. Inside she carefully closed the door, then locked it. I sat on the edge of my narrow single bed, not moving, mute, afraid to break the spell. It was happening like I'd never ever thought it would. I would had refused her, should have refused her and denied myself, but I am an old man for whom lovely young women were rare dreams. I hungered and I was beyond caring.

tbc

[latebloomer]

Her long blue nightie had buttons down the front, each taking an infinity it seemed to undo. I knew she was watching me, but my eyes followed only her fingers on their slow journey downwards.

Shrugging off the soft material, she stepped out casually with no signs of shyness or awkwardness. Her face displaying no emotions. her breathing even and slow, she moved till I could touch her if I just reached out. I gazed upon her soft fairness, her girlish figure of narrow hips, small breasts and flat stomach with the appendectomy scar the only blemish.

I reached out, encircling her waist as I pressed my face against her, feeling the lacy patterns on the bra as abrasiveness against my cheek. She cradled my head tenderly. Her skin felt warm on my palms and slightly sweaty. Slowly, very gently, as if awakening from a prolonged hibernation, I felt my body reacting, responding to the almost forgotten sensation of a woman in my arms.

Her behind was taut, composed of gentle curves tapering into slim firm thighs. I tugged at the waistband of her panty, managed only to get it caught at her hips. She removed it in one smooth movement, alternately raising her ankles to slip it out completely. Reaching behind her back, she removed her top.

I started to remove my singlet, then she was helping me, her nude body literally in my face. She made me lay back while she stripped me of my shorts and brief, placing them on the chair, on top of her own clothes, neatly folded. She stood up for an instant and I saw her with the light behind her, her slim body a silhouette of boyish dimensions.

Her casualness, the mild calmness with which she was going about it, with no awkwardness or embarrassment, made it easy for me to relax and let it unfold as it may. At least that's the excuse I'd given myself. I was but a pawn: things were beyond my control.

It was strange to recall the silence that pervaded our tryst, a coupling dominated by the lack of sound, a silence only broken much later by her. I simply plunged forward, not able, not willing to stop.

She climbed onto the bed, eased herself delicately into my welcoming arms, lowering till she laid on me completely, her head on my chest, her face turned to the wall. She felt light, her weight seemingly concentrated at her lower half, right where my erection abutted her bush.

Softly I felt her nibbling at my chest, tickling rat-like bites near my nipple, then she was licking me like a kitten cleaning its fur. The moist tip of her tongue traced its way erratically till she clamped her mouth over my left nipple.

I was running my hands over her lovely back, enjoying the flow of the gentle curves, from the roundness of her shoulders to the ridges of her scapula, down the long sliding plane of her lower back, her skin now dry and cool to the touch. When they played over her buttocks, I could sense her body tensing up and she sucked more vigorously at my very sensitive nipples.

tbc

[latebloomer]

Inertia: an object in motion tends to remain in motion. She plowed on with increasing vigor, shifting upwards along the base of my neck till her wet tongue painted my ear.

Her body trembling with fear or excitement, she adjusted herself in small movements till I could feel her slowly enveloping me. Near my face, I see hers framed by her shoulder length hair. Her eyes were half closed, her brows knotted in a frown. She bit her lower lip.

A small grunt escaped my lips as I experienced the enveloping wetness, her grip surprising tight. I saw her glancing up at me and gave her a smile. Now almost completely encompassing my entire length, she sat up off my chest to straddle my hips like a jockey. She returned my smile. Then, with a smooth rocking motion at her hips, she began to pump.

Slowly she worked up to a regular rhythm, sliding up and down my full length, moving very comfortably and with extreme sensuality. My exploring hands experienced her silky skin from her calves, thighs, hips, buttocks, up her waist, eventually focusing on her breasts topped by pink nipples. Like her, I slowed it down, secretly dying to make it last.

And the silence of our lovemaking, for that was exactly what it was, was suddenly shattered. She began softly, still holding back, a low moan emanating from her throat, rising unfettered from within her tortured soul to suffuse the tiny room. As it grew in intensity, I noticed a flush spreading over her body, starting from her groin. She was gripping tightly within, strong rhythmic contractions milking me, driving me to the edge.

Her high pitch voice gave a flirty girlish timbre to her passionate moans, now synchronized with her rhythmic plunging. I held on as long as I could, surprising myself, and her too, I saw from her expression. But all good things do come to an end.

She stopped her pumping in mid-moan, gasping deeply as she squeezed her eyes shut, her expression akin to one in great pain. Beads of sweat appeared over her brows, on her arms and between her breasts. She shuddered and collapsed on me, as I felt my own release building. As her sweaty body pressed down against mine, I gripped her buttocks and with a few short jabs, I was off.

For quite a while we just laid there, hugging and not saying anything, slowly getting our breath back. I could feel her pounding heart, and as I shrank out of her, I felt a wetness following, pouring out. She hugged me hard once, began to get off, easing her way carefully, reaching for the box of tissues on my bedside table. Just as carefully she cleaned herself, following which she wiped me dry.

tbc

[latebloomer]

The act over, our pitiable passion spent, a sense of discomfort overwhelmed us, bringing furtive glances and bland expressions. She dressed silently, and I did the same. Before she left the room, she suddenly turned around and said, "Help me!" but without waiting for my response, she walked out.

It was some two hours later that I woke from a disturbed sleep. Vague dream images quickly faded as I sat up. I heard noises outside. A female voice, her voice. Sounding terrified, she was crying, pleading, begging for him to stop.

I opened the door quietly. They were in the sitting room. He didn't bother to wait. My view was partially blocked by the sofa, but it was obvious what he was doing to her. He had removed his T-shirt, had thrown it on top of the dining table, where it sat, dirty and crumpled like an old rag. He had not even bothered to remove his pants, just unbuckled and unzipped to extract what he needed.

She was pinned down by his superior strength, her naked body trapped against the sofa. He had pressed her face and chest into the leather while he violated her from the rear, obviously causing a lot of pain.

I moved forward slowly, shifting the walking stick in my right hand with every slow step. It was more a psychological than an actual physical support. Made of some kind of heavy wood, with a slightly curved grip which was a solid brass lion's head, it was a present from a few of my former students when last they visited a few months ago. It was too heavy to carry for more than a few minutes, so I only used it around the house.

He did not hear me over her pleading and his own grunts, not until I stood to one side of the sofa. He looked up, his hands still holding her down. The look of surprise on his face changed quickly into a lewd smirk. "Hey, old man! Did our fucking wake you up? Come to watch the show eh?" he said, his hips still rocking.

I caught the whiff of stale beer and cigarettes on his breath. I kept my face bland, but the frown between my brows betrayed my disapproval.

"Kan Ni Nia eh! You not happy with me, huh? Well, fuck you!! Go back to your room, old man! Or are you waiting for your turn? You're going to have wait fucking long before you can even smell her cb," he said. "That's provided you can even get a hard-on!" He laughed, obviously impressed with his sense of humor.

She had turned her head towards me, when he relaxed his hold as he stopped to talk. l was stunned by the amount of damage done to her pretty face. Puffy from newly administered punches, she watched me through swollen half-shut eyelids. There was blood at the corner of her mouth, probably from a cut lip.

"Hey!" he raised his voice. "Why don't you go back to your room and shake yourself off, old man? Fuck off! Now!" He glared. With that, he returned to sodomizing his wife. I turned as if to walk back to my room. My last glance of her caught the plea in her eyes.

I moved till I was directly behind him. The walking stick felt hefty but well balanced held in reverse, in a two-handed grip. It was a grip I was familiar with, having taken charge of the softball team during my Phy. Ed. teaching days too many years ago.

He must have wondered why I have stopped in my path. As he turned his head to check, I swung the brass lion's head at it. Instead of the right temple, I hit him on the forehead, right between the eyes. The impact jarred my wrists and he collapsed as if he was shot. A jagged red flower appeared on his forehead, the skin split, the blood gushing down.

tbc

[latebloomer]

I held the walking stick in front of me, wielding it defensively, expecting him to get up, to retaliate, but he didn't. He laid face down, blood pooling around his forehead, not moving. I kept my stance for another minute, then dropped my arms.

When he flopped on his face, she had crawled away. Now she stood watching, bruised and battered, silent, glaring at his still body through puffy eyelids. No more cries, her pleading was done, her demeanor exuding hatred and anger. The spreading blood edged towards her toes but she stood unmoving.

He certainly wasn't going anywhere. His face was turned towards me. I saw the gaping mouth, the staring eyes unblinking, beginning to glaze over, and I was surprised at my calmness. Perhaps I was really beyond caring.

She was suddenly beside me, gently taking the walking stick from me, setting it on the floor next to the body. My mind seemed to have blanked out, all rational functions suspended. I could feel my body shaking, trembling like I had chills from a fever, I couldn't move my legs, and when I tried, I would have fallen on my face if she wasn't there to hold me.

Slowly, ponderously, like she was walking an infant, she brought me back to my room. As I felt her arm around my waist, my weight partially leaning on her naked body, I realized that my old body was responding beyond my wildest imagination. The numbness I experienced in my limbs gave way to an erection so stiff it actually hurt.

When she sat me down on my bed, the tenting in my pajama was more than a little obvious. She glanced at my confused expression, and a tiny smile appeared on her face. Leaning in she hugged me to her chest, pressing me so tight I saw her left nipple from inches away, and found myself wondering what that patch of greenish-blue beside it was.

I found my mind wandering, flitting and darting, like dragonflies dancing over the surface of a pond, never stay long enough for any thoughts to make more than a remote impression. A few recurring threads however were running like a movie loop, throwing up images in no particular sequence.

I remembered the smile on my face the first time I met him, recalled how we had some really great times. Then I felt her mouth on mine and the misty images faded away. I tasted blood from her cut lips, heard her whimper softly when I kissed hard and knew it was hurting her. I tried to pull back but she held on through her pain.

When she released the drawstring of my pajama, I was still hard. I watched her enclosed my stiffness with the softness of her torn lips and I wanted to stop her. She shook her head: No, and began. With a wince on her face, she pushed on, eyes closed and brows knotted.

Like the tension contained inside, pent up pressure long unreleased, my erection lasted. Her lips were bleeding again when she withdrew and swallowed. As carefully as she had done much earlier, she cleaned me up.

I felt closer to normal once more. The release was essential I surmised, my thinking my own again. She had gone to her room, presumably to put on some clothes. I walked into the bathroom, splashed water on my face and washed it with soap. I applied some cream and shaved my day-old stubble. Back in my room, I changed out of my pajama, putting on long pants and a short sleeve white shirt. I walked out to the hall.

The blood appeared congealed around his head, framing it in an irregular shape. His face was grayish, the skin looking waxy. I saw his exposed behind and thought it was ridiculous to die with your backside showing. Then I saw the walking stick beside him, the lion's head no long shiny but appearing rusted, a tinge reddish.

The phone was on the low table next to the sofa. I picked it up, and dialed. Four rings later I heard a pleasant female voice. She was polite, asking if she could help me. Just as politely, I said: "Good evening! My name is R and I wish to report a murder." Her voice sounding just a little suspicious, she asked me to elaborate, so I did.

"You see, about half an hour ago, I killed my son..."

The End

[latebloomer]

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun shone over the lovely green leaves shading the small shed that sat quietly in one corner of the sprawling property. Birds were darting from branch to branch, twittering their delight in the comfortable weather. It was a nice day and looked likely to remain so.

The shed was built of vertical wooden planks nailed together, with zinc sheets for the roof. There was a wooden door that latched shut, and a tiny window letting in the light. Inside were stored various equipment used for the purpose of gardening. Long-handle hoes stood against the wall; shovels covered with dried mud laid crosswise on the floor; aluminum pails sat beside sacks of fertilizers. At one corner close to the door was a tiny folding table, on which was a pile of clothes. At the other corner, furthest away from the door, was an old mattress laid on the concrete floor. When there used to be a gardener, that was likely where he would take his rest.

At that moment, there was not one but two persons occupying the mattress. Neither were inclined towards gardening, it was obvious to any observer. The larger person was male and lanky. He had a face one would usually described as earnest, with an easy smile and lively eyes. He dominated the smaller person, who was female. She looked to be in her early twenties, a girl of the type who left their homes to work as domestic maids in foreign countries, as indeed she was. Hailing from the country of Indonesia, she had the honey-brown skin and features typical of girls from that region, with the added bonus of a sweet face and slim figure. Both persons were quite naked.

The shed was out of the sun but nevertheless the temperature within was considerable. Both the man and girl were perspiring rather profusely, beads of sweat running down their bodies to stain the old mattress. Whether the perspiration was entirely due to the temperature or to the activity they were engaged in was indeterminable, for that activity was certainly strenuous, particularly in the manner it was conducted by these two individuals.

The man was obviously intent upon his mission, the expression on his face displaying his determination and certain confidence in his ability to achieve that end. The exertion had been intense it would seem, the rising and falling of his chest evidence of such, as was the hint of lethargy in his movement. His gaze upon the girl was one of intense delight and undisguised lust, especially in the way his eyes lingered over certain areas of her anatomy.

The girl submitted herself to the man, her expression of trust lighting up her eyes and giving her an aura of desirability that drove the man frantic in his attempt to consume her. She lay upon the mattress without a single trace of discomfort on her face, the rough material against the soft smooth skin of her back an irritation she duly ignored. A rolled up piece of clothing under her head, the short skirt she wore as a matter of fact, served as a pillow, propping her up so she could have a better view of things, in this case, the intensive and repeatedly performed action the man was presently engaged in.

tbc

[latebloomer]

The shed was far enough away from the main building on the property, which was a rather ornately decorated bungalow sitting rather like a disgruntled bull-frog on the south end, which was closer to the road, that noises emitted by the couple were not overheard. Certainly they were entitled to make those noises, caught up as they were in the throes of passion: the masculine grunts; the feminine whimpers; the entrancing moans and groans from both parties, punctuated by the occasional utterance of vulgarity, specifically the term colloquially recognized as the 'Eff' word, serving both as an indicator of profound pleasure and a call to action.

The afternoon had begun innocently enough as the man arrived at the bungalow to pay respects to his aging grandparents, whose property it was. They have a great many grandchildren from their three sons and four daughters, so he had realized early on that in order to maintain a fair stake in the eventual sharing of the wealth they presently held, he would have to constantly impress upon them the extent of his filial piety. Having noticed their new housemaid during his previous few visits, he found yet another reason to show up regularly, and being the expert that he was, he had established contact with the girl early in the game, and she had responded positively.

He had sat with the old folks in their room, behaving exactly as a filial and attentive grandson should, listening quietly as his grandfather repeated anecdotes and ancient accounts of events that he had heard many times over, responding as expected at the right moments; plying his grandmother with her favorite tit-bits he always had his secretary purchased for him before each visit. As always, half an hour into his visit, his grandmother would yawn dramatically to express her exhaustion and wish for a nap, while his grandfather would protest, arguing that he had little enough time to talk to his favorite grandson. He would then have to reassure the old man that he would be back as soon as he can, and he would listen to more stories the next time. Then, as the old folks retire to their bed, he took his leave and went in search of the maid.

She had been shy the first time he spoke to her, two weeks ago, her sweet face blushing as he praised her beauty and stared openly at her curvaceous figure. Sitting on the patio overlooking the garden, sipping on a glass of iced tea she had brought him, he plied her with questions to make her linger, standing there awkward with his attention, replying in halting English, in an accent he found adorably charming. She had been serving his grandparents the past two months, her first time away from her hometown, a tiny village fifteen kilometers from Jakarta, a twenty-year old girl who missed her family badly. Her name was Ichih April Puwanti, a mouthful he shortened to April, but pronounced 'Ah-Prill', the way she did it.

She warmed to him quickly, his easy manner always a draw for the opposite sex in his experience, as was the way he seemed to be paying full attention to them. She must be lonely, he suggested, looking after the old folks, with only the equally aged housekeeper cum cook and her rickety husband, previously the chauffeur, for company. Promising to bring her books and music more appropriate for someone her age, and doing so the next time he visited, with easy-to-read comics full of colorful drawings, and CDs of Malay pop songs, he wormed his way into her affections so effectively she allowed him to hold her hand, if only for a moment, when he bid her farewell. The simple act left her blushing all the way to her ears; she pulled her hand away hurriedly as he leaned over and made as if he was going to kiss the back of it. Getting the adorable girl all flustered proved to be such fun he was looking forward to doing more the next time.

tbc

[latebloomer]

During his next visit, he found his attention wavering while pretending to listen to his grandfather, resulting in his missing the cues for his response and the old man getting somewhat upset.

Earlier, on his arrival, after leaving his five-year old Korean car on the graveled driveway, the girl had opened the front door, returning his usual thank-you with a huge smile and direct gaze, no longer awkward or shy with him. The spaghetti-string top she wore, for the first time during his visits, displayed her smooth brown shoulders and upper arms, while the calf-length denim jeans clung to her bottom, which he found himself staring at as she turned away.

He found her waiting for him at the patio when he was done with his grandparents, a glass of iced tea sweating on the table, accompanying a plate of sandwiches she had prepared. He invited her to sit and join him, but she shook her head, saying she really shouldn't but making no move to leave. Reassuring her that she wouldn't get into trouble for doing so, as both the housekeeper and her husband had gone to the supermarket for the following week's groceries, and his grandparents wouldn't need her till at least two hours later, he finally got her to take the seat across from him. After more cajoling, she picked up one of the sandwiches and bit on it gingerly.

The girl turned out to be more forthcoming than he initially expected, as she gradually relaxed, and, drawn out by his encouraging questions and comments, began to recount, in drips and drabs at first, then with greater details, her life and the circumstances under which she came to seek occupation so far from home. He listened with half a mind to her story of poverty and hardship and only perked up when she let slipped the fact that she had someone waiting for her back home. A childhood companion, a neighbor's boy who became her boyfriend; her expression grew wistful when she talked about him, then melancholic, as she wondered if he would wait two years for her.

The opening thus presented, he wasted no time in exploiting it, working his way into both sides of the argument and immediately he had her full attention. Oh, he would, he said, then hesitated a moment before saying, he should, if he were smart. Such a lovely girl to wait for, he continued, giving her a long glance, coupled with a appreciative smile, getting a kick from watching her smile shyly as she silently acknowledged the compliment. But then again, he said, two year is a long time to wait, and the distance apart does, he nodded grimly, present a problem doesn't it? If the guy is handsome, he added, -- and he is, isn't he? he asked -- then mightn't be a problem right? Even if he were faithful, who knows what temptations abound, what with girls these days, he watched her carefully as he said this, saw her chewing her lower lip as she considered this.

Then again, he paused as if it just occurred to him, he, the boyfriend, would have similar concerns, wouldn't he? Looking across the table, he cocked his head and flashed her a knowing smile. I would be worried too, he added, if my girlfriend, especially one so attractive, went overseas for two years. Who knows what men she'll meet, he continued, and where's the guarantee she won't change her mind then?

Her brown face, modeled by the soft light which emphasized the gentle curves of her cheeks and the stronger lines of her jaw, acquired a three-dimensionality that made his eyes linger. The glint of reflection in her eyes flickered as she alternated her glance between the plate of sandwiches and his face. He waited for his veiled compliment and subtle hints to sink in, then picked up his cup of lukewarm coffee to hide his smirk when he noted the recognition in her expression. When she asked the question, "Do you really think I'm attractive?", he knew he had her.

tbc

[latebloomer]

After that fateful conversation the girl displayed behavior more daring and flirtatious, which made things less challenging but more pleasant, and certainly more exciting. Having crossed the line, she seemed to expect more from him, and she reciprocated more readily as well. She was lonely, she confessed, and missing badly her boyfriend, to whom she was 'close'. No amount of persuasion would induce further revelations, so he made his own conclusions.

However it was, the girl was obviously starved for intimacy, since she, with only minimal hesitation, transferred her feelings for her boyfriend to him. His visits to his grandparents grew more interesting, till for a while he considered more frequent trips, an idea which he eventually discarded. Twice a week in the mid-afternoon, timed to coincide with the shopping trips taken by the housekeeper and her husband, was sufficient, he decided.

April needed no invitation to sit with him the next time he visited, a week since their first conversation; was in fact, seated while waiting for him, having made sure of the departure of the housekeeper and her husband for the market. The tea was still iced, but the sandwiches were ham and eggs this time.

Their conversation swayed towards topics more personal, encroaching upon even those fairly intimate, for April revealed, albeit via hints both subtle and obscure, just how 'close' she was to her boyfriend. That she had some experience in matters carnal became obvious to him. She missed her boyfriend quite a bit, she confessed, going on to mention just how happy they were, but, adding, with a sudden change of mood, that that was only near the beginning of their relationship. Things were not the same recently, she mused, particularly after his discovery that she was planning to leave him for work over here.

As he ate, the girl watched him, the look on her face a curious mix of familiarity and shyness. He noticed her glance traveling across his broad shoulder and down his trimmed torso, a result of many hours of work in the gym. On his part, he took in her heavy bosom, partially showing over the shallow V of her top. Many a times their gazes met and he knew she was feeling the sexual tension as acutely as he was. That she would succumb to him was at that moment a forgone conclusion.

She was practically hurrying him through his tea, as though trying to make up for lost time, as if she had, after their conversation, written her boyfriend off. The utensils she brought to the kitchen, washed and put away in double quick time, as he waited and watched. For the nubile Malay girl had wore, tight against her hips, denim shorts that clung to and defined unequivocally the two curvaceous halves of her lovely behind. As she vigorously scrubbed the plate and cups, her gorgeously fleshy buttocks, quite a handful as he was to discover, jiggled. He followed the action with hungry eyes, and an erection.

Rather quickly she was done. Upon discovering him gazing at her behind, she rewarded him with a huge smile, one that grew bigger as her glance dipped to the significant tenting in his pants. Stretching her small hand to him, she proceeded to lead him to her tiny dormitory, which turned out to be along the same corridor and only two doors from his grandparents'. Locking the door behind her, she walked into his arms, as he sat waiting on the edge of her narrow cot. Intense kissing ensued, her hands anchoring his head between them, while his curious hands explored her quivering behind.

tbc

[latebloomer]

And it was certainly a glorious behind, exactly the consistency he preferred, enjoyable even through the thick material of her shorts, and he grabbed hold of it eagerly, squeezing and kneading with his busy fingers. Against his body, pressing into his heaving chest, he felt her breasts, soft substantial lumps of exciting flesh. Gradually he shifted his busy hands, up and over her flaring hips, sliding the narrowness of her waist, rising towards and eventually cupping those lovely lumps. She reacted by pushing her trembling body tighter against him, then, as his kisses migrated southwards across her sharp chin, and along the sensitive neck, she arched her body slowly backwards, until his face was in close proximity with her chest. Enticed, he buried his face into the softness and April moaned her pleasure.

He had not planned what he would do when he charmed his way into the domain and privacy of her room, so he played it by ear. Checking the time on the tiny traveling clock by her bed, he realized that they did not really have that much time left to continue much further. Whispering in her ear his suggestion, and his fear that the housekeeper and her husband would return before they were done, he watched her nod in agreement. Then she began to strip.

He leaned back slightly, enjoying the moment as she revealed a set of lacy black brassiere, efficiently supporting her delicious-looking breasts. Refusing his assistance, she peeled off her tight shorts, and he saw matching panties, lacy and thin and tight, looking somewhat too small for her fleshy behind, the elastic biting into her flesh. He feasted his eyes. The activity he was planning for was meant for another day.

April twirled around, turning her body this way and that, posing playfully for his pleasure. He crooked his index finger at her and she approached, strutting and grinding like a lingerie model, her expression half-way sultry and her eyes smoky. She stopped just out of his reach, pausing for a moment as she ran her gaze between his spread thighs to survey the consequence of her performance. Seemingly satisfied with the obvious bulge now filling the front of his pants, she moved nearer and he had her in his arms immediately.

Again they kissed, his hands now grabbing naked skin, the edge of his index fingers brushing under the edge of her panties, while she placed both her hands on the back of his head, holding on as she bend over to suck vigorously at his half-opened mouth. And he sucked vigorously back, tasting the warm and tangy wetness on his probing tongue, his nose catching the mix of April's body scent and some cheap perfume she had used.

He grew so hard it hurt. He felt her hand caressing that hardness from outside his pants and he moaned out loud. Disengaging from their oral entanglement, she redirected her attention to the cause of his discomfort. She got down into a crouch, gently pushing his knees apart, as he helped by leaning back against a convenient pillow, and undoing his belt buckle. April then undid the clasp of his pants and zipper with a good degree of glee, widening her eyes dramatically when the erect organ, still hidden under his brief, was revealed.

tbc

[latebloomer]

Sorry for the delay.
My notebook crashed over the weekend.
Just recovering my data with new machine.
I will post as soon as I can.
Thanks for waiting....

[latebloomer]

Wow, she exclaimed, dragging his pants partially down his thighs. She grinned as her hand reached out to grasp the upper edge of his brief, and then she simply tugged and his erection jumped right into view, springing almost upright in all its glory, the engorged and angry-looking head rocking slightly back and forth. Her eyes widened, not play-acting this time, as she took in its length and size. He smiled and nodded as she pointed at his pride and glory and gave a thumbs-up sign. Amazing, she mouthed silently.

He watched her reach out and felt her callused fingers encircled his erection, gingerly, as if she were afraid. Yet the yearning that appeared on her face was undisguised, and he could feel her hunger even as she turned to consider the clock on the bedside cabinet. Not enough time, his shaking head confirmed.

Silently she raised her right hand and gave him the sign to wait. His eyes followed her across the room to the tiny attached bathroom, into which she disappeared. Soon, he heard some splashing and seconds later, she came out with a wet flannel in hand.

She knelt between his thighs, and proceeded to give his by-now flagging erection a very thorough wipe-down, starting from its tip. Her touch revived it immediately, the sudden rush of blood into the organ causing it to throb.

Cleaning done, she lay aside the wet flannel, turned back to consider his erection, her right hand already moving along his bare thigh to grasp the turgid organ near its base. He watched her pink tongue dart out to do a sweep along the upper, then her lower lips, leaving them glistening in the soft light. Her mouth parted in a small O, she leaned in till she was inches from his erection.

Are you ready? she asked, her forehead furrowing as she looked up towards him. A tiny nod gave her the go-ahead, and her lips closed around his organ, enveloping the tip completely before sliding to enclose half the shaft. He took an involuntary intake of breath, the sensations shooting to his brain more pleasurable than he anticipated. That pleasure increased exponentially when she progressed to the next stage.

The next ten minutes cruised by in a blur for him. For all he knew, it could have been five minutes or seven, or whatever, because it simply didn't matter to him how long she took or how long he lasted under her ministrations. It was enough he had something to remember her by, that first time, that wonderful few minutes when he experienced what he would later deem to be amongst the five best blow-jobs of his life.

April was skilled, he was pleased to conclude, and she showed him just how skilled when she went to work on him in that cramped servant's room that wonderful Saturday afternoon. He tried to sit up and watch but was resigned to lean back against the soft pillows, eyes closed so he could fully concentrate on the mind-blowing mix of sensations coursing up to his brain from his groin.

Her tongue worked its magic, painting its way, from within the confines of her closed lips, around his sensitive tip. The suction she kept up continued to keep him turgid and throbbing, and he groaned when she began pumping her mouth against the piston of his erection. It started slow, but, she accelerated soon enough. Interesting and exciting sounds began filling the still air-space of the room, hollow sucking sounds alternating with moist sounds of slurping from her, punctuated by barely contained grunts from him.

The exquisite sensations made him arch his neck back into the pillow. His hands reached out and grasped her head, not so much to guide her as was usually the case, but to enjoy the enthusiastic bobbing. His breathing grew ragged and he knew the end was coming.

tbc