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Chapter 83 — Massage with Mrs. Yen and a lovely Surprise
Thanh and I had wanted to meet once more before she had to go back to Saigon, but then her university required all students to be present a week earlier than anticipated. She had told me that she had even tailored another skirt and had been looking forward to wear it for one more rousing morning. But these days, during the Covid-19 pandemic, things sometimes changed from one day to the next, and she had to get on the overnight train.
But I hadn’t seen Mrs. Yen, the mother of my former student Linh, for a while. So, I shot her a message about meeting for lunch and a massage, perhaps. I was slightly concerned that her husband might have found out about our sensual encounters at their house, or that she was upset about something. Her daughter sure had been in our small town over Tet, but we hadn’t seen each other. All Vietnamese, but women in particular, were always busy shopping, cooking, cleaning, and getting the house ready for the New Lunar Year. And during the actual holiday, families spend every minute together. Perhaps Mrs. Yen had just been busy.
After she had received my message, Yen didn’t hesitate to invite me over to her home one Thursday. We would have lunch together but, this time, there would be ‚a surprise’, she had apparently said. It had taken me a while to make sense of her message, which had been written in Vietnamese, and now I was trying to figure out what the surprise could be. Was Linh still in town? No, I had seen current pictures of her in Hanoi, where she was attending university. Linh’s younger sister was only in 7th-grade, so couldn’t be part of the plan, either. Neither could Yen’s husband. Or, could he? I didn’t want to spoil Mrs. Yen’s surprise by asking what it was, though. I trusted her. Perhaps she had a neighbor or relative who wanted to join our sensual massage or even have sex? Yes, perhaps there was a virgin in her family who never had a boyfriend–like Thuy, Nguyet’s young colleague.
So I waited at the corner of her small back-alley at 11 sharp again, just like I had done on multiple occasions a few months back. I had the whole afternoon off, as I was working only at 5:40 in the evening. And Mrs. Yen wouldn’t have to go back to work till 2 either, as lunch breaks took three hours in Vietnam: from 11 to 2. Most people took a nap after lunch, so the whole town almost shut down during those hours.
Mrs. Yen and I hadn’t seen each other for more than three months, but when she passed me on said corner, a warm wave of strong emotions and a powerful sensual thrust rushed upwards inside my body. Mrs. Yen was, hands down, one of the most attractive women of her generation. Considering she was almost 50, she had a stunning body and a glorious face. I also liked her style of clothing; today, she was sporting her green-white-and-red skirt, which came down to her knees, so that everyone could admire her perfect calves. I followed her the 50 yards to her house, where she waived me to come inside quickly and then closed the door behind me.
We looked at each other for quite a while as we were standing in the living room. We both seemed to regret that we hadn’t seen each other for so long. I saw her bosom heaving under her white blouse and asked myself if the choreography for the afternoon had already been written. Did she have a plan? But where was the surprise? She looked stunningly feminine and fresh in her perfectly matched outfit, but now she relieved herself of her black cardigan. Then she took my hand and pulled me towards the kitchen, where she asked me to sit down and got a few things out of the fridge to make lunch.
I hesitated but chose not to sit down, in the end. Instead, I stepped closer and kissed her. We rolled our tongues around each other’s mouths, before I unbuttoned her blouse. I couldn’t contain myself and pushed her lacy white bra up, without opening it first. She looked like she wanted to at least stammer something in defense, but it didn’t matter. Her gorgeous breasts had snapped out, towards me, and I lost myself between them. Her skin exuded warmth and had a lovely smell. When I began to massage her butt through the fabric of her skirt, she didn’t budge.
She looked up the stairs, where her daughter’s bedroom was, but then reached under her skirt and ripped her panties off her hips and legs. When I reached under my favorite skirt, I felt the sticky heaviness of a woman in estrus. Her pussy was already slightly open and longing for my dick, which was pounding my underpants from the inside. I took off my shirt, but then she pulled her bra down over her breasts again, grabbed my hand, and we rushed upstairs, where she pushed the door to her daughter’s bedroom open and relieved herself of her skirt. Under her blouse, her slim, black triangle greeted me cheekily, and when she saw my cock, she reached for it.
Hastily, whimpering and wailing, she stroked my rod so it would get stiff enough for me to mount erotik film izle her. After a minute or two, she sat down on the bed and opened her mouth. She didn’t suck at first, but just kissed and licked determinedly. Was that the surprise, that she would give in after not even ten minutes? Probably not, as she seemed truly overwhelmed by the dynamics of the moment. She was surprised by her own sexual thirst, which she needed to quench now. That was all. With my cock in her mouth, she finished the undressing and then kneeled on the bed, presenting me her glorious ass.
Overwhelmed by the beauty and the hotness of the moment, I kneeled behind her but then she changed her mind and lay down on her back. She opened her legs quite a bit; her pubic area was bulging into the room, just like Thanh ‘s. Sensual slowness or patience apparently were not required, and so I just mounted her. I placed my glans between her bibeveled lips and started to thrust. Oh, after lunch, we needed to do this again more artfully, but for now everything seemed perfect: Two hungry, moaning, cooing creatures trying to grind off the utmost peaks of their desire: without artfully undressing, striptease, foreplay, or whatever. Just a plain good, simple fuck. My heavy body was pressing and squeezing hers, while I thrusted mechanically, without a care in the world. Bringing her to an orgasm in some refined way? Nah, the sheer circumstances would take care of that.
I had come here today to do it twice anyway. And the lunch downstairs in the kitchen would give me the opportunity to recover some of my sexual prowess for the second ride. And so I kept banging her with impunity, without finesse or any subtleties. At some point, I pulled her head onto my chest, even though she probably couldn’t breathe in all that hair. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Today, that was part of everything. She was panting heavily and snorted from time to time. When I pressed her thighs outward with my legs, she let out a cascade of bloodcurdling and earsplitting screams. Apparently, she had just climaxed, and it took me only another two minutes perhaps to follow suit. When I exploded quite lavishly inside her, I realized we hadn’t discussed her cycle. Oh, well, she was old enough to take care of things herself.
Aach … aah … oaah …she sighed when everything was over. I pulled out, and she nodded at me, which perhaps meant that I should get up. Some cum was dripping from my glans, and my balls were dangling nicely. Before she got up to dress, she gave my body and half-stiff cock a long benign look. She did without the bra, but she needed the panties to contain the liquids. With a few swift movements, she put her skirt back on and then re-did her ponytail. She waited a moment until I was fully done dressing, then nodded at me, and we went downstairs again.
Phew. I finally did sit down and watched her prepare lunch with a few swift movements. I could see her nipples under her blouse, which still seemed erect. But our short fuck upstairs had done both of us good: Mrs. Yen was humming, and a cheerful serenity was spreading here in the kitchen. Now she even started to sing, while she was flipping the sizzling pieces of fish in the frying pan. I could see that the rice cooker had been turned on, and from time to time, she stirred the veggies in the other pan with a set of chopsticks.
I had forgotten the Vietnamese word for ‚surprise’ again, and so I couldn’t ask at that moment what or where it was. Well, that would have spoiled the whole thing a bit anyway, so we just did some smalltalk about her daughter Linh, who was studying medicine in Hanoi and doing well. There was a laptop on the table, but it was closed, and I didn’t feel authorized to open it. When the food was ready, Mrs. Yen put everything on the table, and we ate unceremoniously.
I was still exhausted from the rousing seven minutes upstairs in Linh’s bedroom. Or, maybe, it had taken ten minutes, but it was still the second-fastest fuck of the last ten years. I could only think of one young woman in Bangkok–who I had banged on the way to Europe, coming from Micronesia, once–who I lusted after so much, though, that I sought her out again on my way back to the island. After watching her take a shower, I came within two minutes once I was inside her. The following year, I even asked for her again, but she had ‘become fat’, Mama-San said. Exhausted or not, I was looking forward to our second time today, which would probably be coupled with a nice massage.
When we were done eating, Mrs. Yen moved everything to the counter across the room and sat down again, after she had opened the laptop. She went straight to the translation program, typed for a bit, and then let me read what she had written.
‘I’m going to pick up the girl,’ it said.
Oops. Well … that sounded kinky enough, just like she was running a prostitution ring. It was probably completely harmless, though, since Mrs. Yen was a good person: Buddhist, Pacifist, the whole film izle nine yards–but I hoped ‚the girl’ was of age. When I inquired, she said:
“I think so. She’s finished her education a while back. She’s gotta be 19, at least.”
I asked, in Vietnamese: “Who is it?”
“The daughter of a friend. We go to yoga-class together.”
I wasn’t sure if Yen went to yoga with the friend or the daughter or both, but that didn’t matter for now. Mrs. Yen typed some more and then turned the laptop again so that I could read what she had written.
It read: “Hanh wants to be a masseuse.”
Ah, that kinda made sense. Just to make sure, I used the laptop now, since I didn’t know the Vietnamese word for ‘practice’. I asked if the girl wanted to use me for practice, and Yen nodded, before she got up. I saw how she grabbed her black cardigan in the living room and wondered if she really wanted to leave the house without a bra. Apparently so, because she saluted me now with her stretched right arm–which reminded me a little of the Nazi salute–and signaled ‘five minutes’ with her spread fingers.
I was to wait here, I gathered, and went to the bathroom after she had closed the screeching front door. I wondered why the young woman couldn’t massage me in the salon she was employed at, but perhaps she wasn’t working yet? Or she wanted to perfect her skills. Or she was working in a salon just for woman but wanted to apply at another place? At a salon where men went for massages, she would have to offer handjobs, though, at least. I hoped she knew that. Or, perhaps, she was going to practice handjobs with me? Well, she could probably earn more in a salon for both, men and women, or one only for men.
Anyway. I was probably going to find to today. I sat back down in the kitchen and lit a cigarette. The window here was always open, and so the smell would be long gone before Mrs. Yen’s husband came home. And he smoked, too, so he probably wouldn’t even notice. I looked around a bit but didn’t want to be too nosey and check out the bookshelf in the living room, for instance, which I could see from where I was sitting. But then I heard her roll back into the courtyard after maybe ten minutes. I couldn’t wait to meet the girl.
When the two entered the house, they were chatting quietly, but I couldn’t see them yet. Mrs. Yen was first to step into my field of vision and took her cardigan off. I could see her nipples from six yards away and wondered again why she was so nonchalant about her secondary sexual characteristics. Not wearing a bra once one stepped out of the house was an absolute taboo here in Vietnam. I poured myself another glass of tea and tried to make out what the two of them were talking about.
The kitchen and the living room weren’t separated by a wall or a door, and so I could see the girl now, but she was standing with her back to me. She was short but had a sweet, compact body with a little butt, which was clad in a thick, whitish-greyish pair of jogging pants. She was also wearing a black, short T-shirt, which ended two inches above the waistband of her pants, so that I could already see some naked skin on her back. Of course, she had taken off her shoes at the door, as one did here in Southeast Asia. Her hair was ever so slightly wavy and extended about six inches past her shoulders. She was listening intently and nodded from time to time.
As tender and caring as Mrs. Yen was, she was even holding the girl’s upper arm when she brought her over to the kitchen. Since I was sitting, I looked straight at the young woman’s small bosom and the naked skin around her bellybutton, above her sweatpants and below her shirt. I liked her narrow shoulders and, in particular, how the longest bangs framed her pretty face. As I was checking her out, I looked between her legs, too, but there wasn’t much to see. Her sweatpants were soft, slightly too large, and rather thick. So I admired her small feet and, again, found that she had an endearing cuddly body. She could jerk me off all she wanted. When she finally was standing right in front of me, Mrs. Yen stepped aside, and I looked up at her face.
Strangely, the young woman didn’t look at my face but straight ahead, past over my head. I waited a moment, before I extended my hand to introduce myself and was surprised that she didn’t take it. In the end, Mrs. Yen took her hand and put it in mine. I said my name and asked for hers, enchanted by her slim, graceful hand, which I caressed with a few strokes of my thumb.
“She can’t see,” Mrs. Yen told me quietly in English.
“Oh,” I exclaimed.
And, yes, when I looked at the girl’s eyes, they were pretty but blank. She stepped a little closer, however, and put her other hand on top of mine, before she said in broken English:
“My name is Hanh.”
Briefly, I wondered if she had said ‘Han’ or ‘Hang’ but I settled for Hanh. Did it matter at this point? I wasn’t her teacher or custodian, and I wasn’t going to write to her. I still asked seks filmi izle her to repeat her name, and this time I was sure she said ‘Hanh’. Ok. She let go of my hand, and I was glad that the young woman was so lovely. And also, yes, she looked of age, even though she wasn’t quite five foot tall. I decided to just let the two of them guide me through the day.
Yen directed Hanh to the other side of the table, where she sat down. Our host poured a glass of tea, which she then placed in Hanh’s hand on the table. Hanh smiled, nodded, and took a sip, which looked really cute. I absolutely loved her haircut with the long bangs on the sides framing her face down to her chin. Her upper lip swung dashingly upwards, so that one could always see her four upper front teeth, a little like Liz Phair. But cuter. Hanh’s nose was adorable, too.
Mrs. Yen had started to type again, and when she was done, she turned the computer to let me see the screen:
‘We go up and Hanh shall massage the brother. But no sexual. The girl haven’t knowledge yet.’
‘Brother’ (anh) was how a Vietnamese woman addressed a man of the same generation. Likewise, I called her ‘sister’ (chi). Speaking to Hanh, I would say ’em’ since she was much younger than I was. Strangely, ’em’ worked for both sexes, though. But, obviously, I could also use her name, which I liked better anyway. She wasn’t a servant. I hoped ‘no sex’ meant only Hanh, and not Mrs. Yen. Or was she going to abstain today, now that the girl was here? As I was looking forward to a second round, however, I decided to ask:
‘Understood. No sex with Hanh. But no more sex with sister Yen, either?’ I typed.
She kinda looked at me sternly but then typed her answer:
‘Not with Hanh in the room. Perhaps afterwards.’
Well, at least we would have a rousing massage session with cuddly Hanh, during which I would probably come anyway. So, yes, the sex would be taken care of. And now that I thought about it again, we couldn’t send Hanh out of the room and ask her to wait, could we? It would all be good, I decided, and began to look forward to Hanh massaging my dick. Oh, yes. So, I just got up to show my determination. Yen put a few things back in the fridge quickly, but then I almost bumped into her on our way to assist Hanh. Yen shot me a benign smile when she saw me clumsily getting to the girl, whose hand I then took to guide her upstairs.
Instantly, Hanh squeezed my hand, as if she was happy that I had the courtesy to assist her. In front of the steps, we stopped, and I waited until she had used her feet to find the stairs. We changed positons so that she could use the handrail and walked slowly upstairs. In front of us, Mrs. Yen’s motherly butt wobbled under her beautiful skirt which, unfortunately, Hanh wasn’t able to see. Wasn’t Mrs. Yen’s butt getting bigger, though?
I asked myself if Hanh had any experience with men. Perhaps not, since she had probably grown up well-sheltered and couldn’t just go on dates on her own. She couldn’t just skim Facebook pages or other online-sites to find a mate, either. And, I surmised, she needed to be accompanied to coffee shops or wherever she went. Up to now, Mrs. Yen had kept the whole thing at the massage level, but I still had the suspicion that there was more. Oh, well, we had already fucked once, so that I could face this afternoon in a wonderfully relaxed manner.
In the bathroom, Yen unbuttoned her shirt as she was walking to the window sill, where the bottles with the massage oil were. On the way back, her tits were bobbing nicely under her open blouse. It was too bad that Hanh couldn’t see that either; although, if she could have, Mrs. Yen might not have done it. Anyway, the latter pointed at the shower now so that Hanh could wash me, as it was customary in massage parlors. I undressed, watching Yen take off her skirt and panties, too. I was tempted to caress her but didn’t want to ruin the choreography of the afternoon.
Hanh had probably heard that we had undressed and took off her thick sweatpants, which seemed way too warm anyway. Sure, women liked it balmy, but even in early March, the temperatures had reached 88 degrees already here in the center of Vietnam. Hanh was wearing an utterly cute, dark-blue pair of panties with white polka dots. Under the fabric, I could sense her little bush, which perhaps no one had seen yet. I asked myself if she would undress later but didn’t want to inquire, as it was better not to rush things. Once she was ready, she would present herself naked, I was sure. Such things took time.
I realized that I had never actually spend time with a blind person, and so I wondered if she felt something like shame. She sure knew that one didn’t walk around naked but was she embarrassed that Mrs. Yen and I had taken our clothes off? If Yen wanted her to undress, she would probably tell Hanh, but apparently she didn’t feel it necessary at this point. And it wasn’t required in a massage parlor either, only in those super seedy establishments where one would go to a separate room to fuck later. I hoped that Hanh wasn’t expected to do that, even though I had to admit that I found the idea of banging her tenderly utterly rousing. But, anyway, not today.
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