0 comments/ 65132 views/ 4 favorites Bangkok Adventure Ch. 1 By: Isabel_Cavafy The best thing about the twelve-hour flight from Heathrow into Hong Kong was being able to pass the crowded immigration area and head straight for International Departures and the Cathay Pacific flight to Bangkok. There was going to a wait of a couple of hours so I turned into the first bar I saw, dumped my shoulder bag and climbed onto a stool. The barman wiped the surface in front of me: "Yes, miss?" "Vodka, tonic, ice, please. Not too much ice." "Vodka, tonic," he nodded. I retrieved a duty-free pack of Marlborough from my bag and lit one, hauling the smoke down into my neglected lungs. I took a quick look at my make-up. The few hours' sleep I'd had on Richard Branson's Virgin A-340 made things a little easier but, basically, I felt like shit. However, things could only get better from now on. As the drink arrived, I switched on my GSM cell-phone and placed it next to the glass. After shuffling the counterfoils I slipped them back into my ticket folder and slipped it back into the bag with my passport. I slipped the cold vodka and glanced around the bar. The place was half-full; mostly businessmen, some couples who were dressed like tourists. Some of the men tried to make eye contact. I turned back and saw myself in the mirror behind the coloured bottles. My new super-short hair-cut was still looking good, as was the touch-up to my lipstick. I straightened the collar of the blue waistcoat I was wearing over a white t-shirt and wriggled my bum on the bar-stool to ease up the ultra-sensible tan light-weight Rohan slacks. The cell-phone rang and I almost dropped it in my eagerness to thumb the green button. "Hello?" Then I heard her sweet voice: "Isabel?" "Yes. You are early." "Mmm. Where are you?" I looked at the coaster under the glass and gave her the name of the bar. "OK. I'll be with you soon." Before I could say any more, she was gone. The terminal was huge. She would take ages to get here. But when I looked into the mirror again there she was, smiling, just behind me. I turned and reached for her, kissing her cheek. I wanted more… but not here. Ming climbed up onto the stool next to me, flicked her waist-length jet-black hair to one side and looked at me. "How was the flight?" we both asked at the same time, and laughed. "Boring," I said. "Crowded!" she said. The first-class ticket I'd arranged for her was for a Dragonair flight from Beijing; they were always crowded. "Any visa problems?" I asked. Travelling is relatively easy if you are British. She was Chinese but I'd made things easier by giving her a card for my Amex Platinum account. Now she couldn't be accused of being an economic migrant. Having a well-connected family in Beijing also helped. So did being a new employee of my commercial photography company. Ming was thirty years old but her sweet face and her five-foot, teenage figure made her look much younger. I was five-eleven and towered over her – something she always found hilariously funny for some reason. The barman arrived and started wiping again. I ordered another vodka, Ming asked for a Coke. We chatted. I wanted to touch her. I was becoming aroused just being near her. I even considered dragging her off to the nearest Ladies' toilets. Eventually, I just looked at her and told her I'd missed her. She smiled again as she leaned towards me and whispered: "Want me to lick your pussy, darling?" The minx! I looked at my watch and told her we should go. "You checked in OK?" I asked as we walked towards the gate. "Yes." "Did you get the seat next to me?" "Yes, Miss! Not too many in First Class." "OK." That was another trick: Calling me "Miss" in public. The food on the flight was excellent. Ming tried the wine and it had the usual effect on her. Finally, when the trays had been cleared away, I took her hand and lead her to the toilet. Two pretty Filipina flight attendants were chatting near the door. They smiled. "Can I help you, Ms Cavafy?" asked one of them. I thought for a moment, smiled back, and whispered in her ear: "If you can, I'll press the 'Call' button." She covered her mouth as she giggled. Her colleague looked concerned. I gave her a smile too and said: "Don't worry, we promise not to smoke!" As they watched, I held the door open and stroked Ming's bum as she passed me. I bolted the door and turned to take Ming in my arms. We kissed passionately, her tongue probing eagerly between my lips. As her hands moved to fondle my breasts through my silk t-shirt, reached under her short skirt and tugged at her panties. She broke breathlessly from the kiss and gasped as I explored her wet pussy. Suitably soaked, my social finger found her clitoris and started the brisk sideways stroke that was always so effective with her. From that point I didn't stop. I rubbed and she moaned noisily. Soon, her body shook, her head went back, her mouth opened: "Isabel!" I let her lick my fingers before opening the door. As I left the toilet, one of the flight attendants was still there. I smiled again, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could see Ming pulling her panties up, and returned to my seat. Ming came back about fifteen minutes later, her face still lit up. She melted into her seat and scribbled a note on a napkin. Want to taste Filipina puss? it read. I nodded and she leaned across and kissed me slowly on the mouth. Later, when the flight attendant collected the trays – and the unfolded napkin – we curled up, giggling. About ten hours later I woke up suddenly and, as usual, had no idea where I was for a few seconds. Then everything fell into place. The Royal Thai Hotel, a modest suite on the top floor; I am lying on my side on one of the two king-sized beds. My arms are around Ming, my nipples touching her back, my pelvis against her bum. The sheets have been pulled back and the air conditioner is blowing cool air across our naked bodies. Now I was wide awake and my brain in gear. I had met Ming by chance at Glasgow University a few years ago. Her husband was there studying for a post-graduate degree and she had joined him. Her name – Ming – means "bright" and she certainly was. Soon bored with looking after her rather dull husband, she studied for a master's degree in some obscure aspect of Internet technology, something to do with the way search engines read pages in oriental scripts. I met her at a party and was instantly attracted to her; I'd never made love to a doll-like Chinese woman before. I needed an excuse to see her again and offered to help her improve her English. The ploy worked. A couple of times a week she would come around to the studio or to my apartment and I would teach her English grammar. I took my time. The break-through came late one afternoon after a long shoot for a mail order catalogue. The models were leaving as she arrived. I gave her a magazine and told her to start translating an article. The last girl, Fiona, was busy chatting to someone on her cell-phone. Eventually, she switched the damn thing off and came over to us. I stood up. "All finished, Iz, I'm off!" She threw her arms around me, pulling me to her and kissed me hard on the lips, her tongue probing. She eventually stopped and looked at my Chinese friend. Ming's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as Fiona groped my bum and brazenly rubbed her tits against mine. "Off you go!" I said, slapping her ass in return. After the lesson, I drove Ming back to the university. I was trying to explain how newspaper headlines worked, but she wanted to talk about something else. "Isabel?" "Yes, Ming?" "You told me you were married." I glanced across at her as I stopped the Porsche at traffic lights. "I was. I mean I used to be married. Ten years ago, when I was twenty-seven, I was married long enough to get divorced." The lights turned green. "Why you not still married?" she asked. "The guy was a dork." "Guy?" "Man. Husband." "Dork?" "Stupid." "Oh," she said, "English very complicated!" I laughed, wondering if she meant the language or the people, and she fell silent. As I drew up outside the university main gate, she stayed in her seat. "Was that the only reason you not married?" she asked, clearly nervous. I leaned across the car placing a hand on her thigh and smiled. "I'll tell you next time, darling." "Saturday? "Saturday at ten. I'll pick you up here." As she walked away, I paused to watch her tight little bum. She glanced over her shoulder and waved cheerfully. I felt Ming move in my arms as I began to feel a little chilled. I slipped my arm from under her neck and got up to adjust the air conditioning. On the way back I found an can of orange juice in the mini-bar. As I cracked it open I looked at her. She had rolled onto her back, one leg cocked up, revealing a lightly-shaven pussy that was so neat a cigarette-paper wouldn't fit between the labia. In that position her small breasts had disappeared making her look completely flat-chested. Her long black hair spread across the pillow. My pussy was wet but I didn't want to wake her – it was going to be a long, long night. At the window I pulled back the curtain a little and was blinded for a moment by the bright afternoon sun. It was five o'clock. The shower didn't wake Ming, but the hair-drier did. I was standing at the wash-basin, blowing the water out of my short boyish hair-cut when she walked in through the door. She hopped onto the marble surface next to the gold-plated taps. "How are you, sweetie?" I asked. "Have a good sleep?" "Yes," she smiled, "me wide awake! We go Phatpong, yes?" In the couple of years I've known her, I've taught Ming lots of things. Good English is not one of them. "We'll eat first. I'm hungry." "OK. I want eat you." I smiled back at her: "Later." She scowled and leaned back against the cold mirror. I was concentrating on fixing my face… just a little foundation and an almost-invisible layer of lip-stick. My eye caught a movement; she had a hand between her legs, rubbing her clitoris. It was my turn to scowl. "You make me feel sexy," she said, unnecessarily. She opened her thighs even more and pulled at one of her nipples with her free hand. "The sooner you hop in the shower, the sooner we can eat, the sooner we can go to Phatpong!" Two hours later, I was paying off the taxi driver. Ming was gawking at all the flashing neon of Bangkok's infamous sex zone. With her short skirt, high heels and oriental face, she didn't look too out of place. With seconds of arriving I had to liberate her from some fat-but-optimistic German. From that point on, she held my hand and stayed close. Not much on the exterior of the clubs and massage parlours betrayed what was going on inside. But it didn't matter. Soon, Ming pointed. "Let's try there!" After the ride through Bangkok traffic, the chilled interior was welcome and we met by the insistent beat of something related to Ibiza. The place was expensively fitted out like a like a Western disco. There was a central bar with groups of stool and tables around three of the walls. Against the fourth wall was a raised dance-floor crowded with swim-suited girls; each was wearing a number on her wrist. "Waa…" said Ming, "Tai hao le!" "Yes," I agreed, "Fantastic!" It was the sort of place owned by the relatives of senior cops. Heads – mostly male – swivelled as we entered and I looked around for somewhere quiet to sit. A girl in a string bikini waved us to follow her and she took us to a table beyond the far end of the bar. "You want drink?" she asked. "One beer, one coke," I told her and she wriggled off, tottering a little on her high heels. Ming and I sat down. I lit a cigarette. Ming touched my arm: "Why all the girls wear numbers?" "So you can choose one to sit with you. Maybe have sex in the back somewhere." "Waa!" The bikini girl came back and placed our drinks on the table. I thanked her and she hovered for a while, uncertain whether we wanted her to stay. The fact that Ming was stroking my thigh might have confused her. I patted the seat next me. "You buy me nice drink?" she asked. I nodded. Ming nudged me and pointed to a corner of the room near the stage. A young American college boy – judging by the shorts – was leaning against the wall, his arms around a firm breasted Thai girl in a high-cut swim-suit. I looked back at Ming. So? She smiled and pointed again. This time I noticed that one of the girl's hand was behind her back, down his shorts, and stroking his cock. From their faces, he thought he was in heaven, she thought she was in hell. Bikini girl came back with a brightly-coloured (and no doubt alcohol-fee) drink and sat beside me. And there we sat, sipping our drinks and taking in the scenery. Eventually, Ming said: "No show?" I turned to bikini girl: "No show?" She shook her head: "No show." Ming said: "We go, huh?" I paid up, leaving a big tip for our hostess and we walked further up the street. This time I chose. I pulled Ming through the unassuming doorway and up the dingy stairs. Up the dingy stairs was the way down-market. Except for the lights over a long stage surrounded by the bar, this place was dark. The girls wore mostly shorts or skirts and t-shirts or bikini tops. They didn't wear numbers. The three girls on stage were naked. A few male customers sat in the booths around the walls, each with a girl or two. Someone touched my arm. She was an older, strikingly beautiful woman with finely-drawn cheek-bones and neatly-cut shoulder-length hair. I smiled and she led the Ming and I to one of the free booths. As we sat, Ming asked if there was a show. She nodded. That was a relief; I'd told Ming about the Phatpong shows and she was determined to see one. Our hostess was still with us. She spoke quite good English. "Hello, my name is Mai. Do you just want to watch the show or would you like some girls to sit with you? You only have to buy them a drink each." "Will you sit with us?" I asked. "Of course. And I get another girl? One who likes nice ladies?" I nodded and told her to bring us Coke and beer too. First she came back with a sweet young girl dressed in bikini pants and a t-shirt cut off below her pert breasts. "This is Kee." "Hello," said Kee, holding her hands together between her breasts and bowing her head a little. Mai went around the table and slid onto the bench next to Ming. As the drinks arrived, the music changed and the show started. Three skinny girls started dancing, sliding their naked bodies against each other until one eventually reached between the legs of another and started to pull a very long string of flags from her pussy. Ming thought this trick was nothing less than wonderful and started to applaud. In the darkness, Kee took my arm and draped it over her shoulders, leading my hand to one of her small breasts. I grasped it gently before slipping my hand under the flimsy cotton. Her nipple fell naturally between my finger and thumb and grew firm as I rolled and tweaked it. She rested her head on my shoulder, not interested in the show, making soft mewing noises in her throat. The girls on-stage had swapped around and one was now kneeling, her mouth firmly planted over the third one's pussy. Eventually, her head came back. She had a string between her teeth, a string that was connected to at least a dozen ping-pong balls. Ming seemed to be aroused by the show, but then I noticed that Mai's hand was already under her short skirt. The Chinese girl noticed my glance and grinned. "Mai finger pussy," she whispered, "Heng hao! Very good!" While we were diverted, a tent-like structure had been placed on the stage and two new girls had started to dance. They spent most of the time in a close embrace, stroking each other's bodies through and under their long white t-shirts. Kee's hand was stroking the inside of my thigh. Her nipple was now growing firm between my fingers. She really did like the attention of other women. On the stage the performers now had their hands under each other's shirt, vigorously rubbing their crotches and gasping theatrically. Suddenly one of them pulled away the sheet covering a short wooden bench. From each end a large dildo projected upwards. The second girl cocked a leg over one of them and lowered herself, guiding the rubber cock into her pussy. The two bent their knees and – with some athleticism – moved up on down on the dildos, their arms extended, fingers intertwined to keep their balance. Ming squealed with delight and clapped her hands again. I felt Kee's hand grope towards my crotch and glanced down. Her pretty face looked up and she stuck her pink tongue out at me. I lowered my head and sucked it into my mouth until our lips met. The performers were rising and falling with the music when one pulled her t-shirt off over her head, revealing her fine, full breasts. She then reached to the other girl and ripped her shirt open down the front, her hands grasping for her tiny tits. Their naked torsos where glistening with sweat. Next to me, Mai had slipped under the table and was kneeling between Ming's open legs, pushing the hem of her short skirt up around her waist. Ming lifted her hips to help Mai pull her panties off. As the beautiful Thai woman licked along the inside of her thighs, I put my arm around Ming's neck and slipped my hand down the front of her top. If anyone could see us in the gloom, I didn't give a damn. My hands caressing two young breasts, I glanced back at the stage. The bench had been replaced by a rug, the two Thai girls by a fat, naked Western man who towered over a Thai girl in elaborate traditional costume. As she danced, making complex, well rehearsed movements with her hands and eyes, the man stroked his long, thick cock to erection. "Waa!" said Ming, "she too small for him!" As she danced, the girl started to take off her clothes, starting with her head-dress and bodice. Now naked from the waist up, she knelt in front of the man and took the head of his cock between her lips. He squeezed at the root of his now-hard penis and stroked her hair. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard. She stood up again and pulled at the waistband of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Kneeling on the rug, she stuck her bum in the air and wriggled it at the now-sweating Westerner. He got down behind her, his cock in his fist again, and shoved it into her pussy. He grunted, she squealed and sportingly pushed back to meet his powerful thrusts. In the dim light, I could see Mai's tongue lapping at Ming's clitoris. Every so often, she stopped and closed her mouth over my girlfriend's pussy. From Ming's reaction, I knew the tongue was probing deep into her pussy. The stage show was reaching a climax… literally. The man pulled the Thai girl back onto his lap and, holding the back of her thighs, struggled to his feet. Now standing, legs apart, he raised and lowered onto his cock, slowing turning through 360 degrees so that everyone in the bar could see the tight fit of her pussy around his thick penis. The girl's hands were between her widespread thighs, stoking his balls and rubbing her exposed clitoris. I heard the man mutter, "Me come!". He lifted her off his knob and lowered her to the floor of the stage. She quickly turned and started to suck him again. He held her neck as his back arched and he groaned. I wondered if it was all faked. The girl kept sucking until he patted her shoulder. She stood up. Turned, and smiled at the audience. A trickle of semen dribbled from between her sweet lips. This show was no fake, I decided. Ming shuddered as Mai brought her to her first orgasm. I decided it was time to go. "Shall we take Mai and Kee back to the hotel?" I whispered to Ming. She nodded. A hundred dollars to the bar manager legitimised their departure and we piled into a taxi. We were skinny enough for all four of us to fit side-by-side in the back of the Toyota but Kee insisted on climbing onto my lap. She had pulled on a pair of shorts. No matter how I held her, it seemed impossible to keep my hands off her remarkably smooth skin. As she wriggled her cut-off t-shirt rode up, revealing her chest. Her legs extended over the laps of Ming and Mai. The driver tried to pay attention to the Bangkok's 24/7 gridlock. Bangkok Adventure Ch. 2 The sun was trying to beat it's way through the dense pall of traffic pollution hanging over Bangkok. What did filter through caught Ming's body in silhouette against the window. Her remarkable hair stopped where the cleavage of her bum started. She was chattering but I wasn't listening. She was chattering about last night and about how I'd had to throw Kee out so we could get some sleep. The older girl, Mai had asked to leave at a more sensible time. I was trying to eat something spicy on rice while browsing through a What's On-style magazine about the city's spicy nightlife. There were two clubs I was trying to find. One was a really expensive place targeted at Japanese businessmen but my sources told me it had a really good lesbian show on Thursday nights. It was called the Kyoto Lounge. And today was Thursday. The other was an exclusive place for lesbians. If fact it was so exclusive that I could find no trace of it. I mentally kicked myself for not asking Mai if she knew about it; maybe she had worked there. Ming cast a shadow over the magazine and I looked up. She was standing there with a carved wooden brush in her hand. "Isabel?" "Yes, darling?" "Qing…" "Qing what? Speak English, you need the practice." Her pretty face screwed up theatrically as she searched for the right words: "Please… brush my… hair!" "All right," I said, forking the last of the rice into my mouth. "I sit on lap!" "No you won't – I can't do it like that. Just turn around." I twisted in my chair and started to pull the brush through her hair in long strokes from the top of her head to the base of her spine. He legs were slightly, invitingly apart, her hands on her hips and her head tilted back a little. Occasionally she would squeal when it stopped dead in a tangle. "Where we go tonight?" she asked. "A fancy Japanese place, maybe." "Wah… With Japanese girls?" "No Ming, they don't need to import Japanese girls here. It's a place for Japanese businessmen." "Deng le! Is this place good?" "I don't know, I've never been there. But it was recommended to me." "Rec… recommended?" "Someone else told me it was good." "Deng le," she nodded. "Keep your head still," I told her. She smelt great. "Which shampoo did you use?" "Shampoo? Bu deng le. Don't understand." "Hair soap." "Hotel stuff. Mai washed it before she go. In shower. She really nice woman, she look after me…" I batted her ass with the back of the brush and she ran off giggling. The taxi driver knew the Kyoto Lounge. The place was away from Phatpong and had its own driveway. This was fortunate because we were stuck for twenty minutes in a line of Jaguars and limousines. The club was based at a big house that had been extended with a canopy over the drive at the front door. Inside, the discretely-lit decor was essentially Japanese. There were four reception desks so no-one really had to wait; most of the dark-suited business-clones were showing membership cards to deeply-bowing greeters All the women were Japanese and dressed in Kimonos. (So much for my idea that there would be no Japanese women here.) Ming and I were waved to one of the desks. The receptionist stood and bowed and said something in Japanese. Assuming she wanted my credit card, I handed it over. She spoke again and, seeing the blank expression on my occidental face, ran off in a flurry of short steps to a side door. She returned almost instantly with a Japanese man in a tuxedo. He bowed as low as his female underling; but not quite. "Good evening, Ms…" He glanced down at the credit card. "Good evening Ms Cavafy. Welcome to Kyoto Lounge. It is an honour to greet you." I smiled. "Please forgive me," he continued, "for asking if you and your companion have a reservation." I shook my head: "Sorry, I was not aware that a reservation was necessary." Then my brain kicked into gear. "Of course, I should have anticipated that in the case of such a prestigious and renowned establishment as yours, a reservation would be essential." I bowed back to him a little… well, enough to let him glimpse my tits behind the halter-top of my dress. It worked. "One moment, please," he said, and quickly checked the list lying on the desk. "Fortunately, we can indeed accommodate you tonight." He said something to the receptionist in Japanese and she quickly swiped the card. "Perhaps you would give us the honour of your signature?" I bent to take the pen, then hesitated. The entry fee was not too short of I diplomat's ransom. I glanced up at the manager who was looking down my dress again. "Of course," he spluttered, "the price is inclusive of everything!" "Everything?" "Yes, Ms. The show starts in fifteen minutes precisely." I signed and, after another round of bowing, we were waved through to a bigger reception area – one with a bar. Ming had her arm hooked around mine and we paused at the door as I looked out over some twenty identical Japanese male haircuts. The chatter subsided as they turned towards us. They were looking at me; a very tall Western woman with a small Chinese friend in tow was not exactly what they had expected of the prestigious and renowned Kyoto Club. I smiled, inwardly cursing myself for not holding out for free admission. A space opened up near the bar. I ordered a big vodka, Ming a glass of Australian wine; there was no charge. The men, some reluctantly it seemed, started to drain their glasses and make their way through the next door. Soon it was just us and the two bar-tenders. What next? Had they forgotten us? Ming touched my arm and I turned. Standing behind me was a beautiful Thai woman, her hands together under her chin, her head bowed. My first reaction was that the management must have run out of kimonos – she was completely naked. I said hello. "Good evening," she said, "my name is Lin. I am here to make sure your visit is extremely enjoyable." Well, I thought, that explains the delay; they were looking for someone who spoke English. I was impressed already. She was slim with full firm breasts, a dusting of pubic hair and did not mind at all that I was staring at her body. "Please come with me?" We followed her into a theatre and she led us towards the front past the already-seated businessmen. The auditorium was fitted-out Las Vegas-style with bench-seats around some twenty tables. Each table had its own naked Thai 'server' standing close-by to take orders. The stage was in darkness but I could make out some remotely-controlled studio television cameras and a number of very large flat screens on the walls. As we got comfortable, Lin asked if we'd like the same drinks. When I said yes, she bowed and disappeared. "Wah…" whispered Ming. I kissed her on the cheek: "Looking forward to it?" "Yes," she said, "but too many men." I turned to look at her. She was wearing a blue cocktail dress with a fairly see-through top. In the light of the table lamp I could make out her dark nipples pressing against the fabric. "They are the audience," I said, "we didn't come to look at them." Lin returned with fresh drinks just as the Japanese folk music faded up and the auditorium lights faded down. As one, she and all the other servers knelt down by the tables and the stage lights came up. The stage was set as the interior of what I assumed was a large Nipponese house or maybe even a small palace. The businessmen applaud politely. To the right was a bedroom, to the left an even larger bedroom with three futons and lots of big cushions scattered about the floor. Scattered about the futons and the cushions were lots of oriental women in various stages of undress. All of them seemed to be wearing their hair in the elaborate style of the geisha. (I say 'seemed to be' because I suspect they were using wigs.) The scene was tantalisingly lit so the audience could see quite a lot, but it had a hint of even more going on in the half-light. You didn't have to be a genius to work out that this wasn't the locker-room of a ladies' golf club; this was a harem. Two slightly older, kimono-clad women walked into the bedroom and started to fuss about the place, tidying-up and arranging flowers. Eventually, they nodded to each other and stepped through into the harem. The concubines sat up and paid attention, some of them even stood, looking and waiting. The women consulted for a while, then one pointed to a girl who seemed smaller than the rest. The second woman approached her, said something, and tugged at the belt of her flimsy robe. She took it off and stood naked for a moment, covering her pussy before finally raising her hands behind her head. Satisfied, the woman nodded and, holding her wrist, led the little concubine through the door to the other room. The harem settled back into its routine. The two sat side-by-side on the bed as the first women disappeared through the 'outside' door. The attendant – if that's what she was – talked to the girl, her finger wagging. The naked girl nodded nervously in response. Then the woman reached for the youngster's nipples and started to squeeze and tug them. Eventually she seemed satisfied and she tapped the girl on the knee. The concubine parted her thighs and barely flinched as her mentor reached down and peeled back the hood covering her clitoris. The woman licked two of her fingers and rubbed the exposed button. It was all functional, totally devoid of passion but that didn't stop me getting a warm feeling between my own thighs. The door opened again and the first woman came back leading… a giant of a man. The women got off the futon and bowed deeply. The audience yelled raucously and applauded. He was huge in all dimensions, a Sumo wrestler – no doubt one who had fallen on hard times. Without the usual throwing of salt and stamping around, he pulled off his fancy robe and handed it to the attendant. With a huge scowl on his face, he slapped his shoulders and belly and bowed curtly back to the women. Then he removed his wrestling belt. This was something of an anti-climax at first; his cock was well-concealed beneath the folds of flesh. Something made me glance to one side, towards the group of businessmen at the next table. Their leader was a young good-looking guy. (I knew he was their leader because his naked server was on her knees between his legs licking the underside of his cock.) The four other guys looked like Yakusa thugs; it was too dark for me to see if any of their fingers were missing. On stage, the concubine was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide, her mouth open in awe. Her minder stayed close to her as she doffed her kimono. Her 'colleague' was already naked, one hand searching between the man's legs. With a little encouragement, the concubine stepped forward and fell to her knees. The woman's hand was now pumping quite hard and we could see the man's semi-erect penis. The girl leaned forward and closed her lips around it. The wrestler's eyes rolled and he reached down, his big paw touched her on the nape of her slim neck. Her head started to bob eagerly. Amusing as this was, I was far more interested in what was happening back in the harem. One of the other concubines was slumped across a cushion and peering through a gap in the rice-screen wall. Her robe was open at the front. As I watched, she raised a knee, causing the garment to slip back; she reached down between her legs. On one of the futons a girl was in the process of being up-ended, her ankles framing her pretty face, her bum in the air. The concubine who had done the up-ending was now behind the girl, supporting her as she licked between her legs. Other women had paired off, hands gently stroking and massaging, hips pushing up against fingers and tongues. The girl peeking through the wall was now masturbating furiously, her fingers making fast circular movements over her clitoris. In the other room, the Sumo wrestler grunted something and the small girl leapt to her feet, bowing and saying, 'Hai!'. She stepped back against one of the attendants who wrapped her arms around her slim body and clasped her hands over her chest. We could now see the man's cock; it wasn't that it was small, just that the rest of him was so bloody enormous. He stepped forward, stooped and grasped the girl's bum in his huge hands. Her legs opened as he lifted her to waist height, the attendant supporting her upper body. The other woman held his cock by the root, aiming it carefully. The concubine's slim torso suddenly slammed towards him, her back arching as she was impaled to the hilt. The wrestler and the two attendants then worked in unison to push her back and forth in short, sharp thrusts and the girl squealed with feigned delight. The woman watching through the wall had slowed things down a little, her delicate fingers now tapping lightly on her clitoris to keep it interested. Another naked concubine had squat down next to her, her breasts between her knees, her face to the little window. She too, started to masturbate. The wrestler was now beginning to huff and puff. One of the attendants asked him something and he nodded. Immediately the concubine was on her feet and gripping the wooden frame at the end of the futon, her bum in the air, waiting for him. He unceremoniously shoved his cock in and started fucking her again. The attendants stood close-by, knowing the end was close. After a few thrusts he pulled out, allowing one of them to grab his penis in her fist and pump him hard. His semen jetted across the girl's back before the woman lowered her head to suck the rest out of him. The two watching concubines celebrated noisily as small, familiar earthquakes erupted inside their bodies. As one of the attendants dried the girl's back with a towel, the wrestler slobbered a kiss on her upturned lips and the lights faded again. It had been a well-produced show, but the girl-on-girl action had been a little too peripheral for my taste. As most of the businessmen made their way out to the bar, I turned to Lin. "No lesbian show?" "Yes, miss, in fifteen minutes after they change the scenery," she explained. "You speak good English. Where did you learn it?" "Thank you, miss, I studied it at school. But I used to work at the Canadian Embassy." I reached up stroked her thigh: "They must miss you, darling. Do you speak Japanese too?" "Yes. You must speak Japanese to work here." I reached behind her and ran a finger along the gentle valley where her bum-cheek met the top of her thigh; I wondered if she had been with a woman before. She didn't move, but she sucked in a little air through her open lips. "Is there anything I can do for you, miss?" If she only knew! "Yes, Lin. More vodka, less ice." I handed her my glass. "And more wine for Ming." "Yes, miss." As Lin turned away, Ming put a hand on my thigh: "Wo jiao Lin Hanyu. Me teach her Chinese." "I teach her Chinese!" "Okay, Isabel, you teach her Chinese!" And we laughed. "How much wine have you had?" As the room filled again, the server from the next table talked to Lin. Then Lin talked to me. "The gentleman at the next table asked if he could please talk to you after the show." I glanced over the dividing panel and our eyes connected. He bowed his head. It wasn't difficult to guess what he wanted, but I nodded back and said yes to Lin. When the stage light went up for the second time, we were looking at a classroom. It was hard to take it all in at once. There were about a dozen desks, each with a young girl wearing the archetypal Japanese schoolgirl's 'sailor's uniform' complete with long white socks and polished black shoes. They were chewing pencils, reading books, and writing on notepads. There were maps and tourist posters on the walls, a big globe and a tv set perched on a video-player. Geography! The Japanese businessmen applauded loudly. So did Ming. At the front of the class was a teacher in her forties. Unlike most of her students, she was definitely Japanese. She was wearing a severe pink blouse and a black skirt. Turning to the white board, she started to write Japanese characters with a Magic Marker. Some of the girls were chattering inaudibly, but the level of the music suggested that the audience didn't need to hear what they were saying. Subtly, the action developed. At the back of the class, one student was reading what looked like a porn comic-strip magazine. The others ignored her, even when she raised a leg and lowered it onto her desk. At this stage, one of the tv cameras zoomed in to provide a closer view. The girl had her hand down her white panties and was rubbing her clitoris. Closer to the front of the class, a girl had stood up to help her neighbour. As they examined an illustration in a text book, the girl put her arm around her friend's neck and reached down into her top; we could see her fingers moving under the navy-blue top. Eventually, the seated girl sighed and lifted her arms to allow the other – now perched on the desk behind her -- to take off her top. Once her unnecessary bra had been removed, she leaned back, resting her head in her friend's lap, arching her back and making it easier for her to massage her fine young tits. Ming wriggled next me: "Wah…. This really good." I reached the other way and casually stroked the nape of Lin's neck. Still she didn't move. On the stage one of the students was leaning back in her chair, apparently aroused by something. She stretched, raising her arms, then brought them down over her breasts and belly. Her bum was shifting oddly on the chair. Leaning forward a little she stroked the inside of her thighs, before tucking the skirt of her uniform up around her waist. A close-up from a camera revealed that she was impaled on a dildo attached to the seat of the chair. A wire ran from the chair to an electrical socket in the wall. The skirt was the wrap-around type because she quickly got rid of it by unfastening it at the waist. Now naked from the waist down, she leaned forward, held each side of the desk and started to raise and lower her hips. Not only did the dildo look big, it seemed to be rotating and bending at the same time. Mouth open, she panted heavily; and she did not seem to be acting. The girl with the comic-book had her panties off and, with thighs akimbo, was showing us all how much she enjoyed masturbating. But my eyes were now drawn to two students who walked hand-in-hand down-stage, closer to the audience. They embraced and kissed passionately, their hips grinding, their hands all over each other's body. Suddenly they stopped and stood back a pace. Looking at each other with eager faces they undressed down to their shoes and socks and began to pull at their nipples and finger their pussies. It was as though they were trying to turn each other on. They were certainly turning us on. I tugged Lin's ear and she looked up at me and smiled. Must have seen it all before, I supposed. I bent down and whispered: "Is this on every night?" "No, miss, lesbian night Thursdays and Saturdays only." My god! What was the Saturday night show? Ming had finished her wine so I sent Lin off for replenishments. Ming was nudging me again. The two nearest students had moved tantalisingly close to each other. Each now had a couple of fingers up the other's pussy. They were thrusting really hard, but not letting any other parts of their bodies touch. At the front of the class, two girls had approached the teacher. She was standing with a resigned expression on her face as one carefully unbuttoned her blouse while the other quickly stripped off all her own clothes. Then the students swapped. The naked one folded the teacher's blouse and laid it on the back off a chair. The older woman's bra soon followed it. The girl lifted one of the full breasts with both hands and traced around the nipple with her tongue. The teacher's licked her lips and breathed heavily as the second student – now also naked – gave her other teat the same treatment. As both her nipples were sucked into their mouths, the teacher's head slumped back and her passionate moan could be heard over the music. The girls paused for breath – and to reveal that the woman's glistening nipples had engorged to an impressive length. Then they started again, eagerly sucking and pulling. Bangkok Adventure Ch. 3 The taxi ride from the Kyoto Lounge back to the hotel was hell. Trust our luck that we got a cab whose air conditioning had given up the ghost when Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher were still in power. So, the windows were down and we inhaled carbon monoxide for the forty minute journey. In the hotel suite, Ming held up her hair so I could unzip her dress. As she headed for the shower, I stripped off too, pulled on a t-shirt, poured a vodka, topped the glass up with Coke, switched on the tv and slumped exhausted into a chair. Then the door-chime rang. Lin! I'd forgotten about her! I put my glass down and went to the door. A peek through the spy-hole confirmed it was her and I let her in. She looked as sweet and fresh as I must have looked a total mess. I suddenly felt even more grimy from the ride across the city. Lin's eyes widened as she glanced around the suite. I kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for coming," I said. She just smiled: "Okay, miss." "Call me Isabel, darling." I took her hand and led her further into the lounge area. She seemed reluctant to sit down but agreed to have a soft drink. "Something stronger maybe?" She shook her head. Housekeeping had left a fresh tub of ice, so I filled the glass with cubes before pouring the soda. "Ming here?" Lin asked. "She's in the shower." She took the glass and sipped it. "Is that okay?" I asked. She nodded and looked up at me, smiling: "Isabel, you are very tall…" I slipped a hand around her waist and bent my head so I could kiss her on her soft open lips. She responded by probing a little with her tongue. As I opened my eyes I saw that she was looking at me. She smiled with even white teeth and, at that instant, slipped easily into my arms, her body pressing against mine. We kissed again and this time I ran my fingers through her hair as she sucked gently on my extended tongue. "Wah!" We turned and saw Ming coming out of the bathroom. She had a towel around her hips but was naked from the waist up; her long hair curled up under another towel on her head. "Hello, Lin!" She gave the Thai woman a big soppy kiss. "It's my turn for the shower. I'll be back soon," I said and headed toward the bathroom, leaving the others in the lounge to amuse themselves. I turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature towards cool. In front of the mirror I pulled off my t-shirt and pushed my panties down over my hips before kicking them away. As I struggled to get my dangly earrings out, the door opened and Lin stepped in. She smiled and, in the mirror, I saw her eyes glance up and down my naked body. Ming would have put her up to this, I thought. I put the earrings down and turned so she could see me properly. She was wearing sleeveless cotton top buttoned down the front and a pair of chino-like lightweight jeans. She obviously wasn't going to make the first move, so I reached out and undid the top button… then the next. When it fell open, she smiled but kept her arms by her side and I was left looking at the smooth pert breasts that I hadn't dare touch back at the Kyoto Lounge. She flinched a little as I pushed my fingers into the tight waistband of her jeans. I popped the big button at the front and then slowly pulled the zip down. As I eased the jeans down over her hips, I was careful not to touch her. It was my turn to look at her body before taking her by the hand and leading her into the shower. I closed my eyes and turned my face up into the shower, letting the cascade wash the grime from me. I felt Lin's soapy hands on my shoulders and neck as her magic thumbs and fingers started to massage me. I took the opportunity to shampoo my hair as she worked her way down my back, giving each vertebra individual attention. When she reached the base of my spine, I leaned towards the wall, opened my legs a little and pushed my bum out. Still nothing. What did she need, a written invitation? Finally, her hand moved between my thighs and she rubbed the round edge of the soap in long sweeps from my ass to my trimmed pubic hair and back again. Her bare hand followed but, when it started to linger, I turned around to face her. She began with my shoulders again, but she was looking at my tits. This time I grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands downwards. Her fondling was tentative and I grew ever more certain that she hadn't done this to another woman's breasts before. Finally she let go and soaped my belly before leaning down, her face inches from my pussy as she ran her soapy hands over my legs. Then, as she quickly ran the soap over her own body, I took the shower head off its clip and washed us both down. Lin popped out first and was waiting for me with a towel as I stepped over the side of the bath tub. By the time we returned to the lounge, only the inside of my pussy was still wet. I watched as I followed her; she walked with the grace of a dancer, one slim leg before the other, her shoulders back, proud. Ming, still drying her own hair, looked up and smiled appreciatively. I sat at the end of the sofa nearest my vodka and sipped it, peering at Lin over the rim of the glass. When I patted the sofa next to me she sat down, her face turning up, lips open, demanding to be kissed again. My hand was now around her shoulders, stroking her smooth brown skin. As she slumped back, I reached down and touched the icy side of the glass to one of her nipples. She gasped and giggled. I put the glass down and used my cold fingers to cup her breast, fondling it gently before taking the nipple and squeezing it between my finger and thumb. Lin's back arched and she raised one of her legs, planting her foot on the sofa and letting it fall back invitingly. I reached down and explored her pussy, dipping my fingers and getting them wet before dragging one out and across her clitoris. I lifted her head so she could watch what was happening and started to massage her clit with increasingly faster rotating movements. In the chair opposite the sofa, Ming gave me a little wave and stuck her tongue out. Fortunately, she was well past the jealousy stage. I used the hand around Lin's shoulders to tug on her nipples as the other made quick and increasingly persistent sideways movements. Her back arched even more and her breathing became sharper before she mewed a little "Oh!" and reached her orgasm. I hugged her tight and kissed her again. She responded by putting her leg over my thigh. I reached down under her belly and eased her labia open so she could press her clit against my skin. The instant I removed my hand, her hips began to rise and fall, making small thrusting movements. I lifted one of my breasts and touched the nipple to her lips. She sucked it in, her tongue flicking over the full tip, her hips now moving a little faster. Looking over her shoulder, I could see that Ming had opened her towel and now had a leg draped over each arm of the chair. Brazenly, she reached down to her exposed pussy and started to masturbate. Little grunting noises were coming from Lin's throat. My hand was now on her bum and I could feel the muscles clench as she brought herself to another climax. Almost straight away she slid her body across so it was between my legs. She pulled her head back, letting my nipple pop out, and began to kiss and lick her way down my belly. As she pressed my labia apart, I wondered how good she was going to be at what was coming next… I needn't have worried. I watched her dark young eyes and enjoyed the attentions of her eager tongue. My nipples stood out from my breasts begging for attention. Lin had freed a hand so she could rub her own pussy, but Ming probably had a much better view of this than I did. I held Lin's head in place and lifted my hips against her face. When I came, she had her third orgasm at the same time. As I drew her back onto me, I saw Ming's head roll, her long hair flailing as she fetched herself off. If I'd been tired earlier, now I was exhausted. It was, said Zebedee, time for bed. The entrance to the Nomen Bar was in a side street close by the Phatpong district. There were a few people milling about in the alley – including a few optimistic men. As we pushed our way through to the door I noticed a Western woman. She was smoking a cigarette and looking a bit spaced out about something. I smiled at her: "Is this the smokers' ghetto?" "No," she replied, "I'm just…" Her accent was geographically-vague North American. "Are you on your own?" I asked. "It's not a good idea to hang around out here. Come in with us." "Aw, thanks," she said, brightening up. She stubbed out her cigarette and followed us in. I took a closer look at her as we ordered drinks at the busy bar. Her hair was short and gelled spiky like a professional soccer-player's. She wore spectacles and no make-up; well, maybe a little foundation. Her pin-striped slacks would have fitted better if she'd had more boyish hips. Her white shirt was set off by a striped men's tie and a buttoned waistcoat that failed to conceal the fact that she had tits. I think she was trying to tell us something. "You look a bit fed up and the evening hasn't even started yet." She tried a bit of a smile but didn't say anything. There was something about her. I whispered in her ear: "First time?" She nodded shyly: "Yeah…" "I see. My name is Isabel, by the way. This is Ming." Ming gave her one of her beaming grins. "My name is Samantha." Not Sam yet, I thought. Give it time. "I'm from Lincoln, Nebraska," she added. She was about my age – mid-thirties. "I would have thought that a place as big as Lincoln would have had a lesbian bar or two." "Sure it does. But I'm married you see. It would be a complete disaster to be caught in a place like that. Gee! Anyway, when I found out about this place, I bought these clothes…" "And some hair gel?" She giggled: "Do you think it looks kinda silly?" "No," I said, "I think it looks very nice. You whole outfit." "Wah," said Ming, "Samantha look pretty." Wrong word, Ming! "Yes," I added, "very handsome." For the first time, Samantha began visibly to relax. "Well, it looks like we need another girl." "Oh," said Sam, as though she had forgotten why she was there. We walked through to the main part of the club and wandered around, taking in the sights. Apart from the absence of any men, it looked like any other disco. A DJ was pumping out the usual Ibiza, some women were gyrating in cages and the dance-floor was heaving. The local girls were mostly wearing boob-tubes or halter-tops with mini-skirts or tight shorts and were cruising the place looking for Western partners with money. Amongst them were a few harder cases either dressed in male clothes or BDSM leather, chains and black latex. The pace was under-funded by comparison with the Kyoto Lounge and the absence of a sex-show suggested it didn't have the right kind of police 'protection'. "Table?" asked a bikini-clad waitress. I nodded and she found one for us in a corner near the dance-floor. Ming was jumping up and down already; she wanted to boogie. "Later," I said, "I need a drink first." Ming pouted back at me and reached for Sam's hand. Sam looked at me as though she needed my approval, as though I had all that much control over Ming. Ming dragged her off and the server took drink orders. "Would you like a girl to join you?" she asked while scribbling on her pad. I said yes. "Extra drink for her." I nodded again and she left. Ming and Sam were not far away and the Chinese girl was throwing herself around for the benefit of a much happier Nebraskan. "You like dance, Ma'am?" I looked up to see who had spoken. Next to me was a slim but shapely Thai girl. She was wearing a brief mini-skirt, but my eyes were drawn to the boob-tube holding her breasts in place. "You dance?" she repeated. "No, darling, sit down." I patted the chair next to me. She sat down and crossed her legs. Her drink arrived and she sucked on it through a straw. "My name Tal," she said. "Hello, Tal. I'm Isabel." "You American?" "No, English." She fell quiet again. What the hell were we going to talk about? Maybe talking was not the central idea; dancing perhaps, first vertically, then horizontally. Fortunately, before long, Ming and Sam came back to join us and I extended the introductions. "Sam," I asked, "are you here on vacation?" "No," she replied, her eyes skittering around the talent. "I came for a business convention and decided to stay on a few days." "No husband with you then?" "I told him I wanted to stay on a few days to see the temples." "There is plenty to worship around here." "Gee, Isabel, I really have been visiting the temples. I've been getting photographs as er…" "Evidence?" "Yup! Evidence!" And she laughed for the first time. Ming had dragged her chair closer and had her hand on Sam's trousered thigh already. The American pretended to ignore it, but made no move to take it away. The music had switched to something smoochy by Phil Collins, so I drained my glass and made for the dance floor with Tal in tow. She fell easily into my arms, my left hand holding her right against my shoulder, the other hand on the small of her back. As we moved, my chin was opposite her forehead but she soon rested her head on my shoulder, her lips touching my neck. Mmmm… Before the track had finished, her hips were grinding against mine. I kept tight hold of her when the next number started. I glanced back towards our table. The waitress was delivering fresh drinks. As she moved away she revealed that Ming was whispering in Sam's ear, her hand on the American's belly. When we got back to our seats, there were giggles all round. "What are you two up to?" I asked. "Ming asked me if I wanted to take her to bed." "She asks everyone that, Sam. It's because she is a relative beginner." Ming frowned at this, her hand getting closer to Sam's crotch: "Bu deng le! Don't understand… I have sex with relative?" Our laughter seemed to baffle Tal, so I put my arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against me again. Sam now had her hand on Ming's, trying to stop her exploring any further up her leg. "So what did you say?" "I told her I was a beginner too. Well, something happened in high school, then at college. But I came from a very conservative family. Also I was kinda worried that if word got out that I went with women, I'd never get a husband." I nodded. Now Tal had her hand on my thigh. It occured to me that we had a problem with Sam. If she relaxed just a jot, Ming would be all over her – but it was all a bit too public for her. Ming had now taken the American's hand and placed it under one of her tits. When she let go, the hand just fell to her waist. I had an idea: "Tal? Where are the toilets?" She pointed to a door and I set off through the crowd, handbag over my shoulder. Beyond the door, a dark corridor turned right just after the entrance to the ladies' room. The place was packed; a few girls were trying to fix make-up, two others were sharing a spliff, another had her skirt up around her waist and was rolling her head in response to the girl who was between her legs munching on her pussy. The place used to be a men's room; the urinals were the give-away, Sherlock. A group of women were standing around one of these making a clamour about something. As one of them moved I could see a bulky dyke, her sweat pants around her knees, trying to pee into the urinal standing up and facing it. She was drunk, they were all very drunk. Suggesting that Ming and Sam got together in here was out of the question. I didn't want to pee anyway so I left. As the door closed on the chaos in the toilet, I heard a heard a muffle cry from around the corner. I walked back and peeked round. Under a dim red light I could make out three figures. A young naked Thai girl was sandwiched between a couple of leather-clad punks. One with a Mohican hair-cut had an arm around the girl's neck and was twisting her arm up behind her back. The other punk was remarkably ugly – a characteristic not enhanced by her shaved head. She was trying avoid the girl's flailing legs as she ripped her dress from her. I reached down and snapped open my handbag. The Thai girl was fighting bravely but she was no match for the two muscle-bound Westerners. She tried to scream, but the Mohican clamped a thick leather bracelet over her mouth. The shaved one punched her in the stomach and started to push her fingers into the young woman's pussy. I couldn't stand it any longer; I stepped around the corner. "Go away!" snapped one of them. "Let her go," I said, "she doesn't want this." "Fuck off, bitch!" snapped the bald one as she grabbed one of the girl's ankles, forcing her legs open. "We fucking bought her!" The accent sounded Dutch. My heart was pounding. How the hell could I talk my way out of this situation? Baldy punched the girl in the tummy again. I stepped forward kicking her hard in the side of the knee and she yelped and crumpled to the ground. I grabbed the other woman's fist and tried to pull it off the girl's throat. She was too damned strong for me so I punched her in the ear, hurting my hand on all the metalwork. But it made her let go and the little Thai girl scurried off. The bald dyke was back on her steel-capped boots. Her friend was cursing, really pissed at the amount of blood coming from her ear-lobe. Now I really was in trouble. I backed off, my heart racing. They moved towards me, fists clenched. I turned and ran. They shouted and gave chase but, as they came around the corner, they ran into the cloud of Mace I was squirting from the little spray-can I always kept in my purse. They stopped and retched, their knuckles rubbing at their eyes, their lungs heaving. I tossed the empty canister into a trash can and walked back into the club. I stopped by the door for a while to regain my composure. Four years in the army had just served me well but, dammit, I hate violence. I hoped the girl was okay but I didn't want to make any more of a fuss and spoil the rest of the evening. There was no sign of the punks, so I assumed they were in the loo washing off the tear gas. My breathing now steady again, I went back to sit with the girls. "Absolute bedlam back there," I said. Ming was now determinedly licking Sam's ear; I still hadn't resolved that issue. I picked up my glass and took and long drink. Tal reached out for my hand; she had noticed a cut on the back of one of my knuckles. "You hurt," she said, a concerned expression spreading over her face. "I get something!" I patted the cut with a paper napkin and told her to stay. But she disappeared anyway. When she eventually came back, she had a Band-Aid and the girl from the back with her. She was wearing a different dress and, her hands held together under her chin, was speaking in Thai. She had fixed her make-up, but her eyes were red from crying. If the experience had shaken me up, it must have been much worse for her. Sam and Ming were asking me what was going on. As Tal stuck the plaster on my finger, she translated what the girl was saying. "She say thank you. She say you very brave." "How is she?" I asked. Tal spoke to the girl and then to me: "She say she okay. She thank you." "Good. Is she going home now?" There was more chatter, then Tal said: "Boss say she stay till club close." "Then the boss is a prick." I gave them some cash. "Give the boss $50 and tell him or her that I'm talking her out of here. She can keep the rest for a new dress. And please get me another drink." As I was giving Ming and Sam the short version I noticed the management evicting the two thugs. We left too, not long after. I paid another $50 ransom to get Tal out but I put the other girl in a taxi and sent her home. Within the hour, all four of us were tucked up in one of the hotel's queen-size beds. I was sitting up and trying to relax with another drink and Tal was doing her bit by delicately rubbing my pussy. A remarkably patient Ming was trying to persuade Sam to take her shirt and panties off. Sam meanwhile was more interested in seeing what Tal's hand was up to under the sheets. Ming pushed the covers down. Finally, Sam decided she wanted some of the same and let Ming pull her panties off. Once Ming's fingers made contact, the American suddenly sat up, and throwing all caution to the winds, took off her shirt, proving that she had more tonnage than the rest of us put together. She stayed upright as Ming licked and sucked her nipples.