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The Story of G
Speaking of the Pacific Ocean, and windy San Francisco, here in our New England city is a small Asian community. Some are associated with the university, others with the restaurant business, and the rest in various occupations. The grandfather of G was an elderly doctor who had retired from surgery but still held a private general practice at nearly 80 years old. When I came to have my tonsils checked one winter day, it was like stepping into a back room in Canton or Shanghai. The building itself was severe and modern, western, but the décor was Chinese. There was even a small shrine with Confucius in the main waiting room. Scrolls with Chinese writing hung from the walls. Sketches from the Imperial era hung in various rooms. I was the only patient that morning, and I felt as if I were walking among ghosts in those many inward rooms. As I sat in the waiting room with a copy of China News, I looked up and saw a young woman working at a desk in an adjoining office. She picked up the phone and spoke in clipped Chinese. After she hung up she looked my way and smiled briefly.
An elderly woman in a nursing aide's uniform with face mask trudged out and signaled for me to follow her. She took me deeper and deeper into this labyrinth of rooms. Bamboo water wheels spilled trickling water into bamboo pipes, which dribbled it onto little pebbles in tubs of green plants. At the end of the hall, a very Confucian looking old man with a goatee and white lab coat stood waiting for me. With decades of skill, he assessed me from head to foot even as I walked down the hallway.
When I stepped into the office, the lady informed him in Chinese of my sore throat. He pinched my nose and lifted it while pushing a tongue depressor down on my lower jaw. I thought he was going to harm me for a moment. He had me sit down, took my blood pressure and temperature, prodded my ribs, listened to my heart and lungs, and said: "Listen, young man, the only thing wrong with you is that you party all night and don't get enough sleep. You don't have anything to worry about—just clean your sinuses and it will step the drip drip drip."
He opened his mouth like a fish, raised his head, and hooked his hand over himself to point down his throat. "That will be eight dollars, and let me give you some tea." He fussed about a steel counter and mixed something up. He gave me a little envelope to tuck in my pocket and handed me a medium sized cup without handles. It contained a steaming green broth. I smelled eucalyptus, fennel, licorice, ginseng, and who knows what else. I sipped this hot stuff as best I could, and it opened chambers in my skull that I didn't know existed. My ears popped as if I were driving down from the mountains.
"Wow!" I said.
He nodded. "Wow is right. You came to the right place. I've been dabbling in herbal medicine since I retired. A lot of it comes from Europe, too." He took my money, thanked me, and showed me the directions to the exit.
Along the way, I got lost and ended up in the young woman's office. She turned and looked at me as I came up behind her. She wore a white lab jacket and sat at a desk with a pile of manila folders crammed with records. She looked very Chinese, with yellow skin, almond eyes, and thick glossy black hair.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I got lost." I gesticulated. "Lost." I made circling motions with my arms and shrugged.
"Rost," she said. I nodded. Suddenly her face crinkled up in laughter and she rose. "That's pig-Chinese for lost. Sorry, bad joke."
"You speak English."
"Yes!" She really was cute, with all these dimples when she smiled. "Of course. I grew up here, just like you." She was compact, with an egg-shaped face tapering in a small round chin. "It's that way," she said pointing to the waiting room and the door beyond. She laughed again. She told me later that I really amused her. She thought I looked gaunt and needed feeding. "Did my grandfather give you his tea?"
"Yes, my head feels so much better."
"Good!"
When I got home that evening, there was a note under my door. Someone had called and left a message about forgotten medicine. I didn't have a phone in my little room, just a bed, a desk, a chair, a small closet, and a wide windowsill that was my pantry in winter. My idea of food to store was packages of freeze-dried soup, and I had a heating coil to bring water to a boil in a cup.
"It's G," said the girl from the doctor's office. "You forgot your tea! My grandfather found it as they were closing up." We discussed the matter briefly, and she agreed to drop it off at the corner. So I bundled up and went out into the dark street. At the corner were a few businesses and bright lights. It was actually a good part of town, a rundown adjunct to the university, and I was not ashamed to tell anyone I lived there. As she had promised, the woman pulled up in a long, sleek black car with skis tied to a rack on top. "Peter?"
I stepped off the curb and approached her driver's side window.
"I have your—" She looked around her, and appeared to have lost the small packet. A car honked behind her, and she pulled over. I jumped out of the way as some impatient person splashed past in a show of immaturity. She signaled for me to get in. The interior of the car was dark and luxurious. An expensive music player poured forth crystal clear soft rock music.
"You have a whole live concert in here, complete with people whistling and cheering," I said.
She laughed that wonderful crinkly smile again. "I have to get under a light. Your tea fell under the seat someplace."
I apologized, and she said "No trouble. I'm on my way to Stowe, Vermont for the weekend, and you're on my way."
I said: "That's great of you."
She drove to a supermarket parking lot, and we dug around under the seats, under the carpets, and everywhere. She looked stymied. "Maybe I forgot it." She laughed, as she often did. "Do you have some kind of amnesia you're spreading?"
I shrugged. "I forget."
She pointed to a restaurant. "Tell you what. I'm famished. You want to join me for a bite?" I was always hungry, and readily agreed. She was a postdoc chemistry student getting ready for a life of medical research, I learned over a matching set of meatloaf dinners with mashed potatoes, gravy, string beans, and lots of catsup. We shared a pot of tea. I told her about my struggle to find a niche, and my interest in certain historical and literary topics.
"I love reading the classics," she said. "I just wish I had more time. I have to squeeze things in. Do you ever do things impulsively?"
I had to admit that I did (most of my current life style was by impulse). She said: "How would you like to come to Vermont with me? I had the trip lined up with a girlfriend, but she bugged out at the last moment, and I'd love to have someone interesting and intelligent to talk to. There is a couch in the lodge that you can sleep on, and food and drinks will be on me."
That's how we got started. It was a long, pleasant drive up there. G was a great conversationalist, and I listened carefully because she really was a neat person. Even though (shock) she turned out to be ten years older than I was, she seemed the nearest thing to a regular date to me at that point, compared to other women older than myself that I dated now and then. "When you are Chinese-American," she said, "people think because you look totally Asian that they have to yell or you won't understand them. Sometimes they talk to me in funny accents that they think sound Chinese." She laughed. "Sometimes I get impatient and talk in funny accents just to baffle them and piss them off." We both laughed. "I'm as American as apple pie, at least I think so."
I assured her: "You are extremely apple pie."
G had worked for about seven years at a very high salary after graduating from Stanford and then Yale. She'd been engaged to a graduate student from Hong Kong, of whom her family had approved, but they had grown distant from each other. "Totally different cultures," she said. "At first I was gullible and naďve, and he just worked and studied all the time and had no ideas of his own, no personality, but worse yet—no sense of humor. He was a nice, shy, quiet guy, but I nearly died of boredom. So, to escape, I broke off our engagement and took jobs in large corporations. I kept moving every year or two, until he gave up and stopped trying to follow me around. Also," she said with a giggle, "I had Chinese girlfriends of mine set him up with dates until one day he met one and fell in love. That's when he went back to China and I started my studies at the university." I asked her if she played any sports, offhand, and she said "no, but I won a first place trophy in a beer chugging contest at Stanford."
I said: "Oh-oh, I won't challenge you on that."
I was resigned to just being around her, which was very enjoyable. I couldn’t ski to save my life, but I loved sitting in the great lounge with its crackling fire place and watching all the ski people. They come from all over the region to places like Stowe. When the first flakes twirl, the highways are choked with cars heading here with skis on their racks. That night, I slept on a sort of large wooden box with thick Mexican rugs and a quilt on top. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "I'd give you my sleeping bag but it's way too small for you." She laughed. "And it's pink." We both laughed.
Next morning, we had a nice breakfast overlooking sun-bright slopes. "Oh gosh, I hope it snows, or at least doesn't melt before we leave." She went skiing for a few hours. She waved to me, a petite figure in a pink paramilitary suit of some kind (okay, I'm joking, that's what she called it). She waved and pulled these cool tanker goggles down over her face and disappeared among the legions of people in similar clothing dispersed in all directions. Toward noon, she came into the lodge with her tongue hanging out. "Want to stay through tomorrow?" she asked.
"I'd be happy to," I said. She asked, "Enjoying yourself?" I smiled and told her honestly, "It's great up here. What a nice change for me."
She patted my leg. "Good. I'll make the arrangements."
We sat by the fire and drank hot chocolate. She was tired and went upstairs for a nap. I went into a viewing room and saw a movie. When I went up to the room, she was just beginning to wake up. She had fallen asleep in her pink suit, with just neck open a little, and a blanket over her shoulders. Her stockings, protruding from the pink ankles of her suit, were thick, wheat-colored crew socks.
She stretched and yawned. "Hi!"
"Have a good rest?"
"Yep." She patted the bed beside her. "Sit here." As I sat, she rose up and bounded past me. "Back in a minute." She disappeared into the bathroom, where I heard muted tinkling sounds, then the flushing of water, then the rush of water at the sink, and the sound of someone gargling. After a moment of silence, the door opened and she jumped out. "Ta-dah!" She hopped on one leg, with her arms extended like a skater. I applauded. She had stripped down to a flimsy tank top (pink) and equally flimsy panties (pink). Aside from that, she still wore the heavy crew socks.
"Aren't you cold?" I asked.
She shook her head as she walked past me and crawled onto the bed. "I have you to keep me warm." She lifted the covers, crawled inside, and held them open for me.
"I am honored," I said as I started in.
"Take those off," she said, pointing to my jeans, flannel shirt, and heavy socks, not to mention my long johns. I stripped off the jeans, socks, and shirt. "All of it," she said. I complied, and slipped into the warmth beside her. I felt the smoothness of her thigh against mine. She lay on her side facing me. She propped herself up on one elbow, with her chin and cheek in her palm, a pensive pose. She patted my chest with her other palm. "You don't have to sleep on the trunk again."
"Thank God," I said.
She laughed at my rolling eyes and groan.
"It was not only hard, but too short for me."
"I'm sorry about that." She patted my chest. "You did very well though."
"That was a test, huh?"
She nodded. Out from behind the bed came a baseball bat. She uttered that wild, happy laugh again. "I wasn't really gonna brain you—just scare you if you turned out to be a wild-man." The bat rattled loudly as she dropped it on the floor behind her.
I lay regarding her. She was petite, with features I found exotically pretty. Everything about her was compact, firm, not delicate but scaled down. As a skier, she had surprisingly hard little hands as I learned when we intertwined fingers and stared at each other. "I felt," she said, "that I wanted to have you, to help you. I thought you would be a lot of fun to be with, and I'm happy you came along."
"I'm glad I passed the test."
"Let's go slow. We have all day and all night. I'm going to go out on the slopes again for a while before dark, but I'd like you to check out my slopes before then."
"I'll be glad to help you with that. Do you mind if I inspect your slopes first? Get the lay of the land?"
"I think we should light the pilot with a good long kiss."
"I think that's a great idea." I leaned forward and sought her mouth with mine. Her tongue was short, her mouth small, and her breath smelled of toothpaste. I cupped her breast, which was wobbly and pointy in its flimsy shirt. We petted lightly for a good long while. It was quiet in the room with its blond wood theme and its thick storm windows that cut out both the chill outside (minus 40) and the noise from the slopes. A small fire crackled in a black iron fireplace across the room. We had time and attention only for each other. My hands roved all over her small body, from her ankles and calves up her thighs and around the softness of her buttocks. I rubbed her belly button with my fingertip and she giggled. "Push the button and you giggle," I said. She reached down and pushed mine, as if in an elevator. "Nothing happens when I push yours."
"I'm stuck on hard," I said.
She held both hands over her mouth and squealed, her eyes thin squiggles above her (pink) fingernails. I rolled onto my back and pulled her on top of me. She still wore the tank top and panties. Her little titties bobbled provocatively behind the material. I reached up and touched each soft nipple through the cotton. "They get hard," she promised. "You just have to turn me on some more, and I'm sure you will."
"I like it when your titties hang over me like that."
Her breath came hard and hot, and her eyes smoldered over me.
"I'm going to pull up your shirt and look at them. Will you like that?"
She nodded slowly. "Only if you do it slowly, like you mean it." She gritted her teeth at me. It was the first sign of the passion to come.
"I'm going to lift your shirt now." I pulled at the hem, seeing the belly button underneath, and the soft yellow skin. I pulled her slightly toward me, exerting a little power on the shirt.
She gritted her teeth and looked defiant. "Do you dare?"
"You can't stop me."
"I can stop you." She wriggled her ass against my cock, which was hard and naked and pushed the flimsy panty material in to the crack of her ass. "I dare you. I defy you. Are you man enough?" She took my wrists in her fists and pushed them back over my head. I let her, although for a moment I seriously wondered if I had the strength to counter this wiry little bitch. She was small and soft on the surface, but like a steel coil underneath. "Suffer," she said through those gritted teeth as she swung her chest from side to side, and those pointy titties were grayish shadows bouncing under the shirt right before my face.
"You know I am going to end up licking them before we are done."
"I don't know that. Are you man enough?"
"I am going to end up sucking them. You know I will. It's only a matter of time. You can't hold me back forever."
"I can slap you around and hold you anywhere I want." She crossed my wrists, held them with one steely hand, and reached in back of her to take my cock in her palm. "You have a big dick, but I am not scared of it."
"You will have that dick inside of you after I kiss your titties."
"I am not going to let you do that so easily. You think I am small and easy, and because you are nice looking I am an easy fuck. You will have to beg and work and sweat before I let you touch me." She thrust one breast against my eye.
I raised my mouth and took the cotton in my lips, and with it the cone of her nipple. She teased me by withdrawing it. She turned slightly and brought her other nipple close but pulled it away before my mouth could close on it. So she was a tease. I told her: "You are an expert at this torture. You are a cock tease, bitch."
"Fucker!" she spat at me. "Fucker!"
"Is your cunt dripping wet all over me?" I said weakly.
"You wish, big guy. Hah!" She took her hand off my cock and stuck it in her panties and brought her fingers out. She offered them to me.
I leaned forward to suck on them. "I can taste your salty cunt milk on those fingers."
"Oh really?" She laughed and sucked on them. She made a quizzical face. She stuck her hand in her panties again, rubbed two fingers around in her cunt, and brought them to her mouth to lick. "Hmm. You're right. That is some quality cunt juice."
"That is why I must fuck you today. You have the finest grade A cunt milk of any cow in Vermont."
"What if I don't let you have my cunt milk?"
"I have some dick milk for you."
"You're lying."
"AM not."
"Are too."
"Want to see?"
"Fuck you. No." She spat in my face, and little globules of spit hung in my eye lashes and lay on my skin. "Don't wipe it. Leave it. I want to see you with my spit on your face."
"I want to taste your spit."
"Why?"
"Because I already tasted it when we kissed and it's pretty good. Tastes like peppermint."
We both burst out laughing and she almost lost control over my wrists. She recovered and grabbed my cock again. "What if I take this thing and beat you over the head with it?"
"It would probably hurt. I would have to have you sit on my head for a bandage."
"If you are good," she said, "and I mean very good. If you are very, very good, maybe later I will let you do the bowling ball carry on me. But only if you are very, very good."
I remembered the old joke about that. "What do I have to do to show I am very good?"
She wrinkled her brows and folded her arms over her chest. Straddling my waist, she looked down on me and said: "You have to do things I ask. For one thing, let's postpone this game. We can get back to it later. Are you enjoying playing with me?" "I love playing with you." I pinched the strap on her panties and pulled it down so I could get a glimpse. She let me for a half minute. I reached in and put my middle finger against the crack of her snatch to feel her clit. There was a little hard bud there.
She reached down and pulled my hand out and pulled her panties up. She unstraddled and climbed down from the bed. Her buttocks jiggled as she landed on the floor in her bare feet. "First, Peter, let's dance a little." I sat on the bed, while she walked over and put another log behind the fire grate so vermilion sparks rose up the flue in a shower. Then she went to the entertainment center and turned on a radio or DVD.
Soft rock music poured out, as it had in her car. She stood there and beckoned. I went over and took her in my arms. She rested her head against my chest as we slow danced. I rarely slow danced naked, and my hard cock swung around. It slapped against her thigh several times, until she gently pinned it against her soft skin. "All secured, captain."
We moved around like that for a few minutes until we shifted gears again. She was light, and I lifted her so that her legs wrapped around my waist. The cloth with her titties in it jiggled against my cheek bones. I was beginning to wonder how long I could hold out before I had to get my cock into one of her holes, or at least ejaculate somehow. I was getting blue balls. My nuts were beginning to feel like they were on fire. She French kissed me ardently, playing with my ears and my hair with her small fingers.
I danced around, holding my hands under her ass. Those panties were so flimsy it was almost as if they weren't there. I had to hold her high enough so that she wasn't sitting on the head of my dick, which was engorged and very sensitive. I enjoyed feeling the strength of her strong little legs around me.
"Do you want to suck me?" she muttered softly as she pressed her nose against mine.
"Yes," I said.
"You will have to suck your way up to me."
"I will gladly suck whatever you want me to suck, as long as you are attached to it."
"I know you wan to drop my panties and slip that big fine dick of yours up my hole. That would be easy, but I won't let you. First, you have to take me to the bed and I'll tell you what to do." I carried her over and gently laid her on her back. She held my dick in one hand while she said: "I am going to let you see my titties. Would you like to see them?" I said yes, and she stood up on the bed. "You'll have to raise my shirt. Slowly like you mean it." I pulled her toward me. Standing on the floor while she stood on the bed, her pussy was right there by my mouth. I cupped her ass and buried my nose in her twat, inhaling the smell of her hair and her juice. She grabbed my hair in her fists but made no move to stop me. It was clear that if I tried to lick her, or do anything other than sniff, she would yank me away. I closed my eyes, inhaled the smell of her quim, and cupped her ass in my hands. I knew I would have it all, and there was no hurry.
"I like when you sniff me down there," she said. "Is it good?"
"Oh yes, very good."
"What does it smell like?"
"The sea. The forest. A snail."
"It is a snail, dummy. I hope you like escargot, because you are going to be dining on that snail down there."
I pulled my nose out and looked up at her between the points of her tits. "I'm going to have you walk that snail right into my mouth when we get that far."
"What if she doesn't want to go that way?"
"Then my mouth is going to chase her."
"But she can't run very fast," G said in a kewpie voice. She reached down inside her panties as if to comfort the snail.
I pressed my cheek against her belly and looked up her shirt. I heard her tummy grumbling with excitement at all that was going on. Up the shadowy slope of her torso, I could see the bottoms of two very cute and interesting titties. I lifted the shirt away and stuck my head in. "This is great," I said. "Help me out here." I crawled onto the bed and had her arch over me while I sat on all fours. She placed her right hand on my neck and leaned forward so I could look directly up her shirt. Now I saw them in full for the first time. They were two longish pointy cones with big bluish cone nipples at their tips. "Do your titties get hard, or are they always firm and pointy like that."
"I train them well. They are always firm and pointy. It's a hassle when I am trying to put my shirt on without a bra, because one always gets caught under my arm or in a sleeve."
"I would love to see that movie," I said. I had her kneel before me with her ass in my face.
"No pulling my panties down yet," she said.
"I have the titties to play with first," I reassured her. While she sat on all fours, and her shirt hung under her, I lay beneath her and slowly pushed the shirt up. She tired of it and briefly rose up to pull it over her head and throw it on the floor. "I like posing for you any way you like," she said as she resumed her four-points pose. I slid on my back under her, until her nipples hung over my face. They were engorged and bluish. I lay under her and sucked on them. G moaned softly. I lipped them, first one, then the other. "You are being good," she said.
"Am I being very good? Very very good?"
"Almost."
"What do I have to do to be very very good?"
"Keep sucking my titties and I'll tell you when they have had enough."
I kept holding them in my hands and licking each one round and round the nipples. My rod was hard as glass and threatened to shatter soon if I didn't get some lubrication on it. "Bowling ball," I reminded.
"Oh yeah. When you have been very very good."
I sucked on those blue-tipped titties until they had tight nipples.
"I want you to suck my toes," she said. She pulled her titties from me and lay on her back. She waved one pale foot in my face. "Get a washcloth from the bathroom and wash them first." I did as she asked, thoroughly cleaning her toes, between them, under them, the balls of her feet, her arches, everything up to her ankles. "That feels nice," she said. "Now let me do yours."
She brought fresh washcloths soaked in hot water from the bathroom, and cleaned both of our feet for good measure. Then she lay back and had me suck her toes. I pulled her into position so that her ass (panties still on) rested against the corner between my balls and my cock. I pushed her feet together and took both big toes into my mouth at the same time. I sucked on them as I had sucked on her nipples, and then licked around their edges.
"That is very good," she said. "You can watch me while I make it very very good." She reached down into her panties and played with herself with one hand, while palming one breast with the other hand. Her eyes got a dazed, swollen look as if she were drunk with sex. "This is one of my favorite things," she said.
"What if you don't have someone to suck your toes?"
"Watch me." She took one of her legs, leaving the toes of the other in my mouth, and bent that leg to her so that she sucked on her own toe, all the while her little knuckles rose up and down in her panties. "You squirted a little," she said with a mouthful of toe.
"I can't help myself."
"I'd better catch all that cock milk before you lose it. But first, one more little thing." She had me sit ass to ass with her, so that I still had her toes in my mouth, while she pulled my legs around and put my toes in hers. It was like being nibbled by wet little furry mice. I laughed. She sucked on my toes while diddling herself with one hand, and cupping my balls in her other hand. She was beginning to ripple out of control. The first lightning strikes of orgasm rolled across the soft roundness of her belly.
On the verge of losing it, she tremulously said, "One more little thing..." She let my feet go, and put her feet on my shoulders. Using both hands, and lifting her butt, she pulled her panties up her thighs. I looked down and saw the pretty little bush there, and the whorls of interlacing labia that were stuck together with wetness. "I like doing this," she said in a trembling voice.
She pulled her labia apart and gently stuffed my balls into the entrance of her cunt. "You think I am small and so I must have a small cunt, don't you? Well, it is small inside and your balls would hurt if I pushed them all the way up there like I would like to do."
I felt the warm, wet skin of her vagina under my balls and moaned softly: "Please...I can't wait any longer..."
"Neither can I," she said feebly. "Get inside me. Now. Hurry." To our mutual relief, I just swung my legs back and my body forward, which put my ram on a collision course with her castle gate. She was holding the gate open with both hands as my train slid into her tunnel. We both cried out in relief and joy as her tube closed in tightly around my cock. We embraced each other tightly while I rocked back and forth and our first orgasm came in seconds. I kept rocking back and forth inside her, and couldn't wait until I could be aroused again.
"Oh baby," she said, kissing me and holding my head. "You were very very very good. I am probably full of your juice now, and I love it. It makes you slide around so nice and easy in my little pussy. My juice and your juice mixed together, all this delirious love we have been making for hours." She laughed. "It's dark out. I missed my afternoon ski." She petted me as if I were a hurt mouse. "We still have a lot of time to play. You're going to eat me, and I'm going to eat you, and then we'll play some more." And we did, through much of the night, and again at her apartment the next evening after we had driven home. She was a lot of fun, and we dated for a long time.
I almost forgot to mention about the bowling ball carry. Late in the night, when we awoke for more sex, she turned her ass toward me and waited on all fours. "Spit on my asshole."
I did. She rubbed her cunt vigorously and pushed juice up to make her sphincter wet.
She cautioned: "You can't assfuck me. You are too big. I'm serious. Do me that one favor, okay?" I nodded, and she relented from her anxiety: "You can do anything else you want. Anything. But first, I want you to put your thumb in my mouth." I did.
She sucked on my thumb, and then added her thumb so she was sucking on both thumbs. Then she took the wet, gooey thumb out and reached down for her ass. She slowly worked the thumb in. "It's tight down there," she explained. "I'm getting your thumb nice and wet. Go easy, okay?" When she was ready, she added: "Go slow. I'm very tight and tender."
Spit and juice dribbled from her asshole as I pushed my thumb in. She gasped a bit, and wiggled to fit it in, but then my thumb was in. She reached down and pulled my index and middle fingers into her pussy. "See if you can get another one in," she said. I felt her fingers pressing on mine. Our hands were dripping wet. "You're too small," I said. I rubbed my palm on the soft curve of her buttocks.
I kissed them, and she mmmm'd with pleasure. "Rock me," she whispered. With my thumb and fingers in her, I gently pushed and pulled. She had her hands on the sheets and rocked back and forth, more and more strongly, until she came in a big series of halting gasps. "Keep them in," she said. In that position, about all I could do was kiss her up and down her back and buttocks.
She lay on her belly with her arms folded under her chin and murmured: "Don't stop." A few minutes later she had me enter her pussy from behind, doggy style. I was hot for her, and slammed her rapidly and often against my groin until it was my turn to shoot up her, gism dripping from her like foam as we came together. We slept well, and she did get a little more skiing in before we left for home.
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