That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
SEVEN ASIAN BLOWJOBS IN SEVEN DAYS
VOTE FOR THE BEST
INTRO & DAY ONE
“Thank you very much,” the man in the suit said, handing me a stack of $100 bills.
“No problem,” I said, “you paid me well and I did the job.”
“You did very well,” said the man in the suit, "and you earned it." I may call on you again. Have dinner with me tonight if you can.”
Well, what could I say, he was a good customer and by all accounts a very rich and powerful guy. He took me to some impossibly expensive sushi place and we had a lot of saki. He saw my eyes follow the serving girls. “You like Asian girls, eh?” he asked me.
I gave him a grin and tried to emphasize what an understatement that was.
He laughed. “Have some more saki. We’re going to go to a place you’ll like after this.”
Well we had a lot more saki, then some whiskey. Then we went to what looked like a very high-priced whorehouse. We each picked a girl from a line of 20 Japanese girls in kimonos who assembled downstairs. I took the most petite one, with tiny tits and alabaster skin, hair cut shoulder length and died reddish-orange, and a certain something that I liked in her gaze. The man in the suit chose a taller one with full lips and big inviting tits. We went upstairs, where I was ready to get down with her, but we sat for another hour and a half while the girls poured us saki and we made them laugh, which wasn’t a challenge since they were paid very well. At around 2 a.m. I laid my girl down on a tatami and undressed her, began fingering her pussy and sucking her tits. She began to moan and I stripped her and spread her. I wanted to fuck and I was d***k. I don’t remember a lot of it – I could hear moans from fucking in rooms on all four sides of me when I started, but I can’t cum after I’ve had a lot to drink. I remember by the end we had a crowd – 8 or 10 of the girls from downstairs and their clients standing around watching me fucking this poor girl as she moaned. She sounded like she was dying but she moved under me urging me on. I honestly don’t remember how it ended except I heard laughing and cheering as I lay on the mat, the girl washing me down with hot rags and stroking my hair, rattling noises all around of people clearing up and settling down for the night.
“You’re quite a hellraiser,” the man in the suit said to me the next morning. He was in a different suit. I don’t know where he spent the night. I was lying face down and sprawled on the mat, the sun streaming in from an open window. “Got plans for the next ten days?” he asked.
I didn’t, not at the wages that guy paid, and I said so.
“Fly out of here with me today. Be at the Four Seasons by two.”
I obeyed and arrived washed and packed, head still pounding, in the lobby of the Four Seasons at 10 minutes to two. The man in the suit greeted me – no luggage. We walked to the curb and got into a limousine, which took us to the Narita airport and then to a private runway. Then to a private jet, painted solid black and shined to a high gloss. He offered me a whiskey. I said I’d have water, and he laughed.
“So you need a day off from whiskey, huh?” he said laughing. “What about from Asian women?”
I looked around. There was an older Chinese woman who had taken our drink requests. I looked her up and down and figured why not. “If you’re offering one, I’m ready,” I said.
He laughed and said no, not her. I want you to be a judge. I trust your judgment after the job you just helped with. I need a young man to do this job.
“This is about a woman?”
“Seven women,” he said. “The establishment where I went last night – I own that. I own several others like it in different cities of the world. They are the absolute best that money can train, pamper, buy and sell – you would have appreciated that if you hadn’t been beyond reason with saki and whiskey – you flogged poor Yumiko like a stolen Honda Civic. She’s a Ferrari. You can’t imagine the amount of skill and training in those little fingers, lips and between those legs. But you fucked her well, and you chose the very best one of the 20.”
I said I hoped I hadn’t done permanent harm to Yumiko. “She will recover. She sat by you all night, which is not required. I think she has forgiven you already.”
“So these Seven women are at another of your establishments?”
“Not quite. They are auditioning for a position in a very special one, the most elite of them all. These women are all professional and highly skilled, and to get this position would mean all the wealth they could ever want for life. They are judged very carefully. I can’t tell you much more than this, because confidentiality is very important in this business.”
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“You let them entertain you – each one for one day. There will be other tests for the others when you are not with them, but your vote will carry great weight in my final decision.”
“Entertain me?” I prompted.
“Within very strict limitations. You can’t joyride all my exotic sports cars like you did Yumiko. Here’s the rule: They spend a day with you, the entire day, and they are permitted only oral sex – one time – no other sexual contact with you.”
I didn’t have to think about that one very long. He already said I would be paid almost as much as the last job, which came with a lot of risk. He said this job didn’t have risk but it took a lot of judgment and with that discretion came high pay. “Make no mistake,” he said, “they are strategists, every one of them. They will use all of their talents on you and conjure just the image they think will persuade you to vote for them.”
I slept. When I woke the plane was descending toward an island. We were somewhere in the South Pacific. It looked like it could be an island off the coast of Thailand or Malaysia. The plane touched down on a well maintained runway where another limo was waiting for us. We drove through well maintained orchards and gardens, up to a sprawling brick Tudor mansion. I was shown to a room on the top floor, changed, and went down to dinner. To my disappointment, it was only the man in the suit, no girls. We ate well, and I turned in early.
DAY ONE – MEI
At 8 a.m. the next morning I met Mei. Just over 5 feet and perhaps 110 pounds, she did not appear skinny but almost ephemeral in her quality, unapproachable, almost anonymous I her beauty. She reminded me of the many Asian string players I had fallen in love with over the years whenever I went to the symphony. Long silky black hair combed straight down past her shoulder blades, an oval face and brown eyes, behind black-framed round glasses. The image of her face vanished from my memory like a ghost as soon as I looked away, which I found hard to do. She was dressed, in fact, like one of the orchestra girls that had won my heart – knee-length black skirt, white blouse that concealed a small breast, gold necklace, pearl earrings, scent of jasmine on her body, legs in black hose and modest almost-flat heels.
“Mei has chosen to show you around the grounds today,” the man in the suit said simply, and turned us out of the mansion onto the terrace. She walked down the main avenue of the formal gardens in back of the house, and I followed her. I don’t remember the first thing she said to me, but it was such a natural opening that I found myself replying then and soon after, as if I had known her my whole life. Maybe I had, I thought: Wasn’t this every symphony girl ever, every brainy Chinese girl that me and everyone else knew in high school and wanted to fuck but never did? Yes. She was the “friend.” She played the role so well that I only realized all of this later, and I wonder still whether this was the real Mei, or the role she had chosen as the one that would suit me.
We walked for an hour or two. By that time we were laughing and telling old stories. Our laughter was real, not the automatic kind in the whorehouse two nights ago. Lunch was served to us under the manicured trees. After, we walked to the right of the mansion, down to a secluded stream that watered the orchards. Mei suggested a wade. I watched her remove her heels and roll off her panty hose with her back to me, blushing slightly. Was this girl really going to be sucking my cock before the day’s end? I took her hand as she stepped over the stones and into the cool water. We had a couple of dozen small adventures and laughs and discoveries. I went back for our things, and we walked across the stream, barefoot, out of the wood and up a hill to a clearing full of wild flowers. We sat. Mei started trying to weave a necklace of the flowers in a way that seemed impossibly complicated. I ran all over the clearing gathering enough flowers for her, and after a while we sat cross legged, heads touching as we bent over the necklace, our fingers working together and often touching, as we tried to weave the stems together. I leaned back to stretch and looked at her glasses sliding down her nose, hair slightly mussed with a glint of sweat around the edges of her face, smooth and perfect white hairless legs folded under her – the vision of the “Asian friend,” the one with the protective mother who comes over to study and isn’t allowed to date when she gets older. No man has ever had a friend that beautiful without looking at her as I was now – wanting with impossible and unobtainable longing to fuck her. How can they be unaware of that? But then again, how do I know what they know.
I waited then, thinking something would happen. But as always, with this kind of girl, it didn’t.
By the end of the day I knew the whole estate well, and I felt like I had known Mei for years. After dinner Mei vanished and returned wearing simple jeans, cross-trainers and a plain white v-neck shirt. Her perfect hair continued unbrushed. We found our way to the billiard room where we shot pool – serious at first and then just laughing as we tried stupid trick shots. She kept pushing the glasses up on her nose between shots, which made my heart ache every time she did it. By now it was about 9 p.m. I followed her to the library where she pulled out a dozen books and set them on an oak table in front of a leather couch, kicked off her shoes and folded her legs under her as she had in the field. We looked at the books together – books about architecture, Chinese kanji figures, Chinese period art, ancient maps, calligraphy. My mind was full of the things she was telling me. It was just like being back in high school struggling to keep up with her thoughts, the barrier of her beauty in the way. I felt the same swimming sense of unspoken awe and longing.
Then it happened. However she worked it, it was the most natural thing in the world, the thing that would never happen in the real world, but this time it did. An oversize book still opened between us, her fingers had my pants unbuttoned and unzipped in one deft motion that looked entirely natural. Her small hand reaching in and taking out my cock. As she began to suck my cock, she used her left hand to awkwardly push her glasses up and her hair out of the way. I was stricken with the gesture, eyes fixed on her face. Her technique was incredible without seeming at all ostentatious or expert. The sensation was just of longing fulfilled, finding something lost . . . . She brought me to climax in just over five minutes, during which neither of us said a word. At the last of my orgasm she held her mouth in place until my cock began to soften, then she rested her forehead against my chest – mouth still in her cock, emitted a snicker through her nose and sat up. That was all.
She brushed her hair back again, pushed up her glasses and smiled at me. We looked at some more books, walked through the gardens in the cool evening breeze. When we came back inside the house she wished me good night and then ran up the stairs like a k** late to dinner.
PART TWO TO FOLLOW . . . DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AT THE END.