Her red plastic headband, Hillary-esque, looks very '50s; it coordinates well with her naturally curly purple hair and the green scales, red flames, and black claws of the dragon tattoo on her shoulder and biceps. When I look up from shucking my pants she's already out of her flowery dress, her Doc Martens, her panties.
Tiny, broad-hipped, narrow-waisted, small-breasted: Dürer's Eve. I liked Lan's narrow hips because my dick felt huge in her cunt, especially when she was on top and I pushed her cheeks together and sque-e-e-e-e-zed her down over me. Sloppy, Lan was, but still tight. No Lan, is Sasha.
"I love my French culture and they are trying to take my other culture away from me."
I'm coming and thwacking her ass down against me she inclines and bites hard on a nipple I'm coming.
She kisses the hollow of my shoulder.
Running my hand down her back and over the curve of a cheek down her crack to her bush I encounter a tiny soft pellet and flick it away with my fingertip.
As she straddles me, bending her head to suck on my nipples, I raise my left knee between her legs and she pushes herself back, smearing my thigh. She won't need KY.
I sit on her chest but lean back on my hands to take the weight off her. I look down and there is her moon face. The broad forehead, the graceful winged brows, her calm dreaming eyelids, the widow's peak of glossy black hair. Her lips round my shaft, her hollowing cheeks.
Her tongue at my balls, under my balls, lifting them; slithy, it trails up the underside of my dick, and then down again. Its tip prods my sack.
I put my hands on the bedboard, pull myself straight, and put my dick out, expecting to face-fuck her like last time, but she urges her head under my crotch. She cups my cheeks in her hands, and raising her chin she flattens her tongue to my bag, then urges my ass back and forth, back and forth, 'til I get it, and swing, swing, swing my balls along the slick swiping warmth of her tongue.
My tip wags in the air.
Kneeling behind her I see her right hand snake up between her thighs. She puts me in her and braces herself.
I can speed up and slow down. The object is to endure, endure, endure before spending.
The sides of my dick swell and sweeten so I control myself and slow down.
With my head up her dress, she'll put her hands on my head and push me against her. I will smell her, and rub her bush againt my nose and face through the thin cotton. I'll urge her back to the bed and she with her shoes still on, her legs in the air....
You are my bébé, she said in her Chinglish, her voice heavy.
Her hard little twin handful of butt—it should be a standard unit of measure, the Ming.
The little saddle bags at the bottom of her tiny cheeks, so much like Lan's.
Her head round in the shower cap, so much like Lan's. The hot water courses. Ming beams from beneath her shower cap. She tucks a strand of her hair underneath. I soap myself, and soap her, but leave her cunt for her to do.
She caressed my balls with the soles of her feet.
All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."