textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/singapr7.txt

Archive-name: Affairs/singapr7.txt
Archive-author: Friar Dave
Archive-title: Singapore Girl - 7


     I heard the shower running and half-awoke, then fell back into 
an exhausted sleep. The windows were gray with the first light of 
dawn. But then I was again awakened. The windows weren't much 
brighter, but what woke me this time was wetness. To be precise, 
June had brought a basic on soapy water and was using a washcloth 
to clean my cock. (Remember where it had been last.) She was gentle 
and attentive with my tender dick and oh, so meticulous. There was 
still some soap film on my cock, but she took care of this. She 
disappeared for a moment and when she returned, she was carrying a 
bottle of white wine. She arranged a towel like a coffer dam around 
my dick and abdomen and used the wine to rinse me. As raw as my 
cock still was, the sensation stung and then tingled.
     And then the tingling got serious -- because June climbed up 
on the bed, knelt between my legs and started lightly sucking my 
limp schlong. Slowly, gently, she worked my dick in and out of the 
plush welcome of her hot, sweet mouth and soft lips. Nothing 
happened for a while, but then my prick started swelling in her 
mouth.
     I managed the strength to reach down and tousle her fine, 
short black hair. She looked up at me from between her legs, her 
lovely eyes heavy lidded with lust and her lips distended about my 
thick cock. 
     "Come back here and cuddle me," I told her. 
     She finally interrupted her cocksucking -- but not for long. 
"You have given me such pleasure," she whispered, her breathe hot 
on my straining prick. "Now you lay back and don't move and let me 
give you a special treat."
     Special treat? What the hell did she think the madness of the 
night before had been?
     My cock throbbing redoubled and her cocksucking redoubled. 
From time to time she paused to pour more of the wine on my dick 
and then resumed her eager sucking.
     Then she stopped and sat back on her heels and said, "I 
remember you told me how you liked to see a slim girl fuck herself 
with a big dildo ... "
     SHe shivered, her hard nipples jiggling. Her throat and chest 
were turning red. "It makes me itchy to think of what I will do --"
     June rammed her cunt back onto the makeshift monster dildo. 
She got on all fours, reached down between her legs to heft the big 
thing into place against her cunt and then slowly impaled herself 
on it. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch inch after inch of 
that huge thing get swallowed up in her cunt.
     "Oh, darlingggggg...." she said and shook as the pleasure 
seized her. When she had reached her limit and what look like two-
thirds of the eighteen-inch prick were encased in her hot cunt, she 
rolled her hips around. Her clitoris was immensely swollen and 
stuck out at least a half-inch beyond her fine-haired cunt mat. 
     I couldn't resist. I wriggled slowly around till I was 
perpendicular to her on the bed. I had a great view of her profile 
-- her firm, taut tits topped by spiked nipples that looked ready 
to burst, her slightly rounded little belly heaving with pleasure, 
her tightly drawn ass curving down to her thighs -- and the big 
homemade dildo reaching out from her cunt like an extra, misplaced 
appendage.
     She lay her head down sideways on me, pressing my cock between 
her cheek and my abdomen. "You see, my darling? I want to be the 
best at everything that gives you pleasure."
     She reached around with one hand and found the vibrator, then 
found a tube of K-Y that hadn't been squeezed flat. She emptied its 
contents on the eight-inch vibrator, then took it and reached back to 
put the narrow head against the same tight ass I had fucked just 
hours before.
     "Oh, it is too much!" she gasped as she pressed it slowly, 
steadily into her asshole. "I feel so full, so stuffed, so-- so --"
     "Fucked."
     Her eyes rolled up in their sockets till only whites showed. 
Less than an inch of the vibrator protruded from her asshole. She almost 
fell forward then, caught up in the sensations again sweeping through her 
insatiable young body. She had to relinquish her tenuous grip on the 
vibrator to catch herself, using both arms.
     Being a considerate fellow, I promptly reached out with my left hand 
and got my fingertips on the base of the vibrator. The tight, slick 
vise of her ass was slowly expelling it; I pushed it slowly back in 
just as she got her mouth full with my cock again and resumed 
sucking. 
     (A note to you, dear reader [and isn't that quaint?]: Even then I was 
using Eveready Alkaline Energizers, because even then, Duracells had a 
tendency to be imported from Taiwan or the Antilles or Bangladesh or 
somesuch. Not that those lands don't make good stuff -- not at all! -- but 
such imports tend to sit in Customs warehouse in containers in ports-of 
entry for .... oh, however long the importer feels like. After they are 
unpacked they get their "freshness" dating.  And the fuckin' things die on 
you at crucial moments. Not Eveready Alkalines; those babies are made here, 
in our country -- you've probably heard the name: United States of America 
-- and are fresh and long-lasting and stay, er, potent for hours! This 
concludes Friar Dave's Consumer Tips for the session. Now resume spanking 
your monkey.)
     She bobbed her head slowly up and down on my prick. To be honest, I as 
surprised I could even feel her lips, let alone her tongue or the insides 
of her cheeks -- yes, the insides: she was sucking so hard that the velvety 
wet flesh on the inside of her cheeks was rubbing the sides of my cockhead.
     All the time, mind you, I was letting the vibrator slip about an inch 
or so out of her ass and then slowly pushing the little buzzing bugger back 
in -- while she never stop rolling and rocking her hips on the immense 
rubber dildo impaling her cunt.
     And she was cumming -- of course.
     Then, abruptly, she stopped and looked up at me. "I am going 
to drink you dry."
     "I'm already dry, honey -- "
     "I am going to do it."
     I shook my head. "It'll take forever after last night -- "
     She paused to cum again, then: "Good -- I want it to last forever. I 
love sucking my darling's hard cock."
     She put her mouth back on my cock and then she did something that few 
women seem to know about. I've only known one other, and she was an ex-
hooker, who did it. Believe me, I've thought about it and I think I've 
figured it out. It sounds complicated -- hell, maybe it is -- but the 
effect is cataclysmic on a man's (at least, on this man's) self-control. It 
goes like this this:
     June dropped her head back on my cock. This time she got just 
the glans and maybe two inches of the shaft into her lips. She 
rolled her tongue against my shaft and flattened her tongue, 
creating,essentially, an airtight seal around my cock in her mouth.
     Then she sucked again, and pulled her tongue away and down -- slowly 
and powerfully. The closest analogy I can think of is the way a teething 
child will suck his or her thumb, using the tongue to increase the vacuum 
(which offers some semblance of relief for the poor strained gum tissues).
     But -- while June was doing that, she was also pulling her head back 
and inch or so at the same time. Suck, pull, return -- suck, pull, 
return...
     After about sixty seconds of that, my balls didn't care how much 
overtime they'd but in the night before; they were ready to bogie.
     I started arching up at her even as she was arching up and back to 
try to drive the dildo deeper into her cunt and the vibrator deeper 
into her little ass. My arching up was fine -- but when I started 
to pull back, she delivered the final move. She grabbed my hips in 
both of her little hands and tried to hold my movements within that 
two-inch range she'd established and she began moaning.
     It felt like I was cumming forever. The jism seemed to float --
not flow; float -- out of me in endless ribbons of pleasure. My 
balls were drawn up so tight that they seemed to be trying to 
burrow back inside my abdomen. It seemed to last for hours, this 
exquisite, almost painful pleasure, but that's only because it was 
so intense that the orgasm literally left me drained and 
unconscious.
     When I recovered, it wa to the smell of fresh coffee and the sight -- 
and what a sight! -- of a freshly scrubbed, perky June carrying a tray 
with fresh java and a pair of cups. June was wearing a green silk kimono.  
(Yes, she was from Singapore, a place not known for a love of the Land of 
the Rising Yen, but June wasn't dim; she knew the kimono is the most 
comfortable garment devised by the hand of Man for just lounging ... and 
looking sexy in the process.)
     She saw me watching her from atop the thoroughly devastated 
bedcovers and put down the tray. Her lips were puffy and her eyes 
were shadowed and bloodshot.
     She sat beside me.
     "Oh, my mouth is sore and my back hurts and I ache down there and in 
back -- " 
     "From doing nice stuff."
     Her nipples were already hardening as she rested her hand lightly on 
my limp, sore dick.
     "And you are all tired out and reddened from fucking this nice tight 
Chinese girl. But -- "
     She pressed herself upon me. "It was wonderful, my darling!"
     I tried to reply in kind, but then those wonderful lips were 
smothering mine.
     Her birthday came three days later and that was the day I was going to 
give her the ring -- or offer, at least. It might seem as if after the 
night of debauchery, anything else would be a letdown, but it 
wasn't. If anything, it was even better. There were no walls, now, 
no barriers or secrets. Either could tell the other any desire that 
would shock or revolt. The wish my not be shared, might not be 
acted upon, but there was so much else that was good -- 
     And there was something not so good. Her birthday was the beginning of 
the end.
     After dinner at I. Angelina's, a terrific Italian place nearby (where 
the regulars were so delighted to see a hetero couple that they kept 
sending over drinks), we returned to June's lovely apartment. I gave her a 
birthday gift -- a very sexy nighty she'd been admiring in Mistress 
Mine -- and ws saving the Ring for later.
     She'd gotten a lot of cards for her birthday. They were on display all 
over the office area and in the living room upstairs. She had surrounded 
herself with them, as if to keep her warm despite the distance between 
herself and her loving family.
     The cards in the office were from business acquaintances and 
Jaycee colleagues. Those in the living room and dining room were 
from friends and neighbors. Those on the mantle in the bedroom were 
the special ones, she explained, and placed mine on in its place.
     "Do you mind if I look at these others?"
     "Go ahead," she called back as she started the water running in the 
shower. I knew she'd gotten cards from sisters and brothers and from a 
cousin, and I was expecting to find one from her boyfriend-boss.
     What I wasn't expecting was that it would be addressed to "My darling 
wife" and signed, "Your loving husband."
     She tried to tell me it was just his manner of speech -- but when I 
demanded to see her working papers and visa, she began to weep. By the time 
she handed them over, she was telling me it didn't matter.
     It mattered to me. Her official records didn't show her last name as 
the vowel-less, Singaporean name by which I knew her. They showed her last 
name as the same as that of the company's owner, and believe me, it was as 
Scandahoovian as they get. It listed her marital status as M and he 
was listed as her spouse.
     There aren't many things in this world that are sacred to me. A free 
mind. The word, "Love." Children. The Bill of Rights. Marriage.
     Yeah -- marriage. Two people standing up before the world and saying, 
"Listen up! For the rest of the only life I'm sure I have ... THIS IS THE 
ONE. No matter what." Unless the husband is in the room -- hell, in 
the bed -- saying, "Go ahead and make my sweet-heart feel GOOD!" I 
won't mess with a married or betrothed woman.
     No matter how much I care or how innocent I was in trusting her. No 
matter how fucked up their marriage or relationship may be or how 
strong it is -- I won't do it, not knowingly.
     I had to stand by my principle. I had to leave. And my principles said 
I couldn't even tell her to get in touch if and when she got divorced; 
that -- given what we had -- would have been a terrible assault on 
her marriage.
     So I walked out on the weeping, crying woman who had come to mean 
everything to me, the woman who seemed capable of repairing all the 
wounds, of healing all the scars, of making right everything that 
had gone wrong. I left the ring there, on the mantle. I hurt for a 
long time. If time heals all wounds in the way it is supposed to 
wound all heels, then I hope she got over me, as well -- only 
sooner. She deserved better than a stiff-necked throwback like me. 
     In a sense, I feel good for having had the strength to do the right 
thing, because if we don't do the right thing, then the wrong thing wins 
and we all lose -- big -- in the end. I feel good, because I can look my 
own reflection in the eye and know that when it came right down to it, I 
had what it takes.
     But when I look in the mirror, I don't see her beside me, with her 
impish grin and pug nose and playful mischief. When I look in the mirror, 
all I see is me.
     [end]

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