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#31
10-01-2008, 09:20 AM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
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Good to hear from you. Sure, be good to grab a beer and let the old man talk about past glories, haha. Yes, I still have your number, will call. 
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#32
10-01-2008, 10:54 AM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
Hmmm... 49 to 96 in 9 chapters. Not bad. I'm getting to like this. Thanks all.
CHAPTER 9 Not only is this market my favorite for its wide variety of fresh produce and relative cleanliness, it also has one of the best seafood stall this side of Pudong, with a wide selection of oceanic produce. Despite relative proximity to the sea, the natives have a preference for fresh water fish, like carps, perches and eels. Seafood lovers like me do better to stay down South in Fujian or Guangdong. Nevertheless, this stall includes a variety of shellfish like oysters, mussels, baby abalones, many kinds of clams, geoducks and the occasional live blue swimmer crabs. These oysters, large as a man’s palm, harvested from beds off the shores of weat Guangdong, are way too big and chewy to be succulent. I prefer mine smaller, they’re juicier that way, much like the French Belons. I avoid the mussels not because it has been banned from import to the US but because it can’t measure up to the New Zealand greens. I am impartial to clams but do occasionally enjoy them sauté with a glass or 2 of a crisp Chardonay and a pinch of basil, or done the Chinese way with garlic and fermented black beans. My favorites here has to be the geoducks (although midgets compared to the Canadian’s) and baby abalones, tenderized with milk and eaten raw as sashimi with a squeeze of lemon. Excuse me while I swallow my saliva. It also sells hairy crabs throughout the year. I often felt these fresh water crabs highly overrated, even when they’re in season. They are skinny, troublesome to eat, and the roe just can’t measure up to the muddies in season; cooked ‘al dante’ with a splash of cognac, IMHO, they are creamier, smoother and way tastier than foie gras. Aficionados will beg otherwise and I’d love to hear their sorry excuses for eating these overpriced crustaceans. For today’s lunch, I thought seafood be good to tickle her palate, but mindful of her Xinjiang upbringing, perhaps it’ll be a good idea if everything is sliced thinly and added at the last minute to lend the rich flavors to a rice porridge, It won’t be too alien for her, unless, touch wood, she’s allergic to seafood. So I selected a handful of the freshest shrimps, 4 pieces of baby abalone, 2 geoducks which I had the vendor shelled and cleaned, and a nice fillet of rock cod. I also asked for and given free some fish bones for my stock. Over at the dried food stall, I picked a small fist of dried scallops and a small piece of Yunnan ham to enrich the stock. At the vegetable stall I added a bunch of cilantro and a piece of ginger and I’m done, no more than RMB40. As I walked back I passed a barbershop I had patronized a few months before. A girl ran out after me, ‘Da ger, big brother, da ger’ I let her catch up. Why didn’t you visit me? I excuse myself saying I was back home and spent a little while chatting with her. She invited me in the tiny shop. The other girls must still be sleeping. A girl with curlers in her hair walked out half asleep in her pyjamas, a toothbrush in her mouth, realized I was there, gave a half shriek, and hurried to the back. I laughed. After a while, I bid her goodbye, promised to call upon her soon and left. It was now almost 10 and the streets had filled up with traffic and people. It seemed everyone in Shanghai is outdoors in a festive mood, tomorrow’s National Day. With an official population of 15m registered permanent residents, plus another 3m of floating population, with more than half of them living in urban areas, it is a mother of a city. During the 3 annual extended public holidays, the Chinese New Year or Spring Festival, Labor Day and National Day, the whole population gets mobilized and it gets more crowded than a 50% off sale at a brothel. As I pushed the door open I knew the darling was still asleep. I slid the door open to have a peep. She had pushed the cover down to her waist. I could see her pink nipples rising up and down in a steady rhythm, one hand under her head, the other resting on where I had been. I hesitated, should I jump on her now? Nah, cook your lunch, man. The dried scallops boiled away in a pot with a piece of smashed ginger while I checked my emails and caught up on the news online. I avoided the only 2 English papers available in Shanghai, the local Shanghai Daily and the national China Daily, both of which simply has to rank below than the 154th, which says lots about the Straits Times but you know our dear leaders’ universal rebuttals for criticisms, ‘Singapore’s a unique country’. So let’s move on and the Reporters Without Borders’s a bunch of fucking radicals anyway. 20 minutes later the scallops’ sufficiently soften but had not the life boiled out of it yet. I put in the fish bones for another 10 minutes. Fish tends to turn bitter overcooked. I drained the stock, discarded the bones, threw the scallops back in and threw in a cup of washed scented Thai short grain rice, stirring to prevent the rice from sticking to the bottom, and reduce the heat to a simmer. Meanwhile I sliced the fish and seasoned it with a pinch of pepper and a squeeze of lemon, gut and slice the shellfish, not too thin so it’ll have bite, and got back to my surfing. ‘Lao gong’ she called out sleepily from the bedroom. Ah, the darling’s is stirring and just in time. By the time she washed up, lunch will be ready. Let’s see if she’s in the mood for work up an appetite. Last edited by Faidenk; 10-01-2008 at 11:05 AM.
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#33
10-01-2008, 03:05 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
CHAPTER 10
One of the national treasures of China has definitely got to be its women, after all, they hold up half the sky. Although China’s population is predominantly Han, there is substantial genetic, linguistic, cultural and social diversity in its subgroups. Recent migration trends due to political and economic upheavals resulted in a ‘mixing’ so we are now, in almost any city of China, likely to encounter a girl from the northern province of Liaoning as much as another from Gansu in Northwestern China, one big, to put it crudely, supermarket. The beauty in my bedroom has got to be one of the rarer breeds, given the people’s clannishness and dissimilarity both of religious and cultural ethnicity. I stepped in the room, looked at her lovingly as one looks at a child. Why are you up so early? She asked in a small voice. To make you lunch. To replenish your energy, you have use up quite a bit. She giggled and admonished me for being ‘so bad’ and patted the bed. I got on the bed besides her, gave her a peck on her cheek and ask, ‘Are you hungry? I went to the market and lunch is almost ready’. ‘For you, yes’. Shameless hussy, she is. I planted a kiss on her lips, fuller from my administrations last night. She smelled sweet, not a trace of morning breath. She snuggled up close. A tent formed on my robe I had changed to back from my shopping trip. She giggled in that infectious manner I loved, and grabbed the pole and wished it a ‘zhao an’ good morning. The robe fell down the sides to expose my erection, veins bulging, redfaced, demanding. She bent over to engulf her lips over the angry bulb. I closed my eyes and whispered ‘Yes’. A couple of minutes later she excused herself, went to the toilet. I heard the toilet flushed and shower going for a couple of minutes. Good girl, she’d washed herself so I won’t have stale cheese for breakfast. The love we shared this morning was deliberate, slow and tender. She loved me eating her out, a new experience for her, she told me later. No wakeup call is better as a morning roll to get the blood circulation going and I concentrated giving her as much pleasure as I could. My own urgency, satiated so completely last night, afforded me a patience a younger me could never summon otherwise. Now nothing adds to my pleasure and enjoyment more than to see my partners really, really enjoying me and this encouraged me to continue my foreplay despite my own growing need. Youth is really wasted on the young. I think she enjoyed the bowl of porridge as much as we did in bed, she asked for seconds. She insisted on washing up and I did not resist. She then took a mop from my bathroom to give the apartment a good going over, ignoring my feeble, very feeble, protests. She did, to my disappointment, missed that small pile of washed clothes awaiting ironing, but one learns to count one’s blessings. When she finished, she put on her clothes, she was wearing one of my T’s, oversized for her. Damn, I was hoping one for the road would be an appropriate goodbye gesture but again, count one’s blessing. I put a roll of red Mao Tzetungs, RMB1800 in all, in her hand, for your taxi and also for your mummy, I said and gave her a warm embrace before showing her to the door. She had insisted I rest and there’s no need for me to see her off. Knowing some of these ladies, I think she would be taking a bus home. She gave me another prolonged kiss as though reluctant to leave before stepping out. It’s so endearing. Now, where’s my mobile? Let’s give a call to Xiao Qing to touch base.
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#34
11-01-2008, 11:10 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
CHAPTER 11
In place of a ringing tone, it plays an inane Chinese song, a trend a billion Chinese are so fond of. It’s maddening. The music played. I would have kept at it a while longer but could stand it no longer. She must be busy serving a customer. The cash registers at the stores were ringing no stop with the booming economy. It’s a buying frenzy. She called back only at around 3, during her tea break, and apologized. Nothing to it, I said, just checking on my little darling, how are you? Her legs killing her, she complained, it’s a madhouse at the store. I volunteered to give her leg a good massage, saying I have been to enough foot massages to be an expert, and added I do ‘extra’. That perked her up and she laughed, but said she had to get back to work and, before I could ask if she’s free for the evening, said she have to put in compulsory overtime, getting off only at around 11, what with the restocking of shelves and other stuff. I said OK. She sensed the disappointment in my voice and consoled me with I miss you. Well, I’ll call you tomorrow then, mua, mua, and hanged up. The majority of my friends had gone home for a week long holidays. If there’s one thing an expat should do, it’s to be away come the long holidays. During these periods, everywhere and especially the tourist spots are packed to bursting, and believe me, it’s the last place you want to be. Such upheavals caused huge transport woes for everyone. Tickets for train and planes are sold weeks in advance, with queues forming round the block. Shouting matches and occasional fistfights break out with incalcitrant queue-jumpers. The Chinese are notorious queue-jumpers although over the last 10 years, there has been gradual improvement in part due to the government’s civil education in preparation for this year’s Olympic Games. A note on the ticketing sales system in China - discounts are given for off-seasons tickets, ranging from 10% to more than 50% of the list price. The discount rates can vary widely, for example tickets for flights around noon are cheaper than say, morning, because demand for flights around is lower. During national holidays, tickets are sold at full list price. I had volunteered to stay behind to meet a client who can’t and won’t reschedule the visit, even though we had advised that the factories he wanted to visit are shut. It was his second visit to China and had another agenda. He wanted me to fix him up with the waitress he met at a pub the last trip. No amount of persuasion would sway him from the decision, and at last I told him he could do much better than her. I had got to know the manageress of the pub rather intimately after that first trip and my enquiries told me that girl sleeps around with more men than a 2-bit whore determined to save her first million, and also on the ‘payroll’ of several Western boyfriends. My visitor was confident he could make her see the errors of her ways. I could only shake my head and sigh. I had brought him around Shanghai. Although he runs a striving import/export firm in Germany, owns a beautiful country house and drives a Porsche, he loves shopping at the Shanyang Market, THE market for knock-off goods. He has no bargaining skills to speak of and is elated if the stallholder is ‘talked’ into a 20% discount. Were I to ask, the stallholders would not object to a 20% commission for moi. The market has since been demolished. The media had at that time trumpeted the triumph of the anti-counterfeiting campaigns but everyone knows, including the agency representing the consortium of luxury brand owners, that it is for the ears for the meddling Americans who wanted to prevent the honest entrepreneurs from prospering. Meanwhile a new site was being built. Today, I am told, it’s a spanking new multi-storey building not too far from Raffles City. Too many top officials’ fingers are in the pie. Fact – the first official millionaire in China was an entrepreneur from this market.
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#35
12-01-2008, 02:02 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
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#37
12-01-2008, 09:54 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
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Actually I did not intend to be so graphic but the response was a little lacklustre so I turn up the sex a notch or two. I suppose I'll keep the sex at this level. And keep those comments,good or bad, coming in. You know, all contributors, me included, are attention whores. If it makes you feel good, go ahead and zap a point or two, as long as you leave a comment. Sindroid, fine wine indeed. Kind of you.
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#38
12-01-2008, 11:02 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
CHAPTER 12
We arrived by cab and stopped right in front of the pub. There were 2 other pubs along this stretch of road, near the Ascott Service Apartment in Pudong. A huge cluster of condominiums contribute to the healthy custom of foreign customers to these 3 pubs. I had made myself acquainted to a group of Philippino seamen on leave, their employer had maintained an apartment for these boys in transit. Almost nightly, a group of bulky Texan oil workers on R&R chased Jim Beam with beer. Once I had the pleasure of watching them drink ‘submarines’. Mugs of beers were places on the bartop with accompanying miniature tumblers of tequila. Nothing exceptional until I see them drop the tiny tumblers in the beer mugs, tequila and all. Those guys have rocks for livers. At RMB35 a stubby, it is not exactly cheap drinking in China considering a local 650ml bottle costs no more than RMB4 bought from a 7-Eleven clone. Imported ones cost more or less double. Ladies’ drink in this pub costs about RMB40 but can burn a serious hole in the pocket at the many tourist traps over in downtown Puxi. Padding of the bar-tab of the unwary and drunk patron is altogether not an unknown practice. There is usually no recourse so it is a case of caveat emptor. The manageress, Anne, greeted us as we pushed the swing doors open. She’s still miffed with me and shot poison arrows in my direction while we made our way to the second level. It was obvious she was displeased with the deprivation of attention from me. I had made it clear to her although I found her fascinating and sexy, I had no dishonorable intentions except to bed her, and that we could never be anything more than fuck buddies. She had had not been served such rubbish before and found it funny and even witty then, saying it a unique come-on line, but obviously it worked…. We ordered 2 Tigers, not patriotism but I genuinely think it’s a great beer. The alternative would be a VB or a 4X, both Australian. Anne had her vodka lime. Xiao Xiao, the object of my guest’s ardor, would be coming in a little later. My guest, Hans, quickly enquired of Anne about Xiao Xiao like a lovesick teenager, how was she, has she many boyfriends,a nd so on. She tried to make light of the subject and said all the girls here have plenty of boyfriends, accompanied with a painful pinch on my thigh, but Hans wouldn’t have any of it. Man, it’s sickening to see a grown man like that. I wanted to slap him to knock some sense into him, six footer or not, but he’ll probably cry on my shoulders. Xiao Xiao came in and he brightened up. It’s a remarkable U turn, and we were quickly ignored. The truth be told, XX’s quite a pretty package, nice rack, compact body, nice rounded ass in contrast to a bumblebee waist, and I would not dismiss easily the opportunity to bed her. But I have problems of my own. Anne was in denial and almost in the same state as Hans. The trouble here stemmed from not paying her the first time. It would have insulted her but then I would not be in this situation. I looked desperately for a way out. I reminded her we could not be anything more than friends, as I would not be permanently in Shanghai and my deliberate aloofness is a buffer to unavoidable hurt, to both of us. I am grateful to have known her and I felt truly blessed and when I leave eventually, she’ll always remind me of good memories. Apparently the bullshit worked and she closed the distance between us and stood in her favorite position, between my thighs with me sitting on the high bar stool. The night went on and we switched to a bottle of Black Label. Hans looked like he’s getting seriously sloshed but there’s no stopping him. Anne came and went as duty called, I played some pool and nursed my whisky modestly because I might have to babysit the big guy. She whispered to me she’s on the rag but wanted to sleep over anyway. I had no objection as she has quite a talented mouth but it would mean waiting till the last customer goes home and that might mean the morning. I said I've got to send Hans back and he looked like hell because XX can’t go back with him. Apparently she’s not interested in depressed lovesick men who want to take her away from all these. She liked 'all these' and getting slapped around a bit and told to ‘Suck this, you cocksucker!’, which got Hans all depressed and ready to cry. Even my offer to go to another bar where sluts are easily available was rejected. But eventually he agreed to go back to the hotel.
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#40
14-01-2008, 05:34 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
CHAPTER 13
I slept through the whole morning and gave Hans a call round about noon. He answered in a sleepy voice and begged to be excused from our lunch date, but might see me for dinner tonight. He must be feeling too embarrassed for his behavior the previous night. I would fucking be too. It’s one thing to show one’s soft side, you know, that sensitive side, but in front of the boys, it’s sort of limp-wristed. I had wanted to buy him lunch at the Chenghuang Temple, a 600 year-old temple complex that’s turned into a mass tourist spot. It’s huge, 10,000 sq meter, built of Chinese hardwood, and has been beautifully restored to its former glory, an icon of ancient Chinese architecture. Small shops sell touristy trinkets, paintings, ‘antiques’, and there are demonstrations of Chinese noodle ‘pulling’, calligraphy, musical instruments. It’s a grand place, if not for the crowd. The restaurant I had in mind serves very good Shanghainese or should I say regional cuisine, especially the xiaolong bao, pork dumpling with delicious superior stock in the dumpling. It was revealed to me the stock is frozen into tiny cubes and wrapped within the sealed pastry prior to steaming. Before the advent of refrigerators it must to be a tedious and messy process. To avoid the queue going round the block, one goes up to the third floor, where one could be seated in a comparatively short time. The ground and second floors serves does not impose a minimum amount to be spent. The third, however, has a RMB120 (I could be wrong on the exact amount) minimum, thus confining custom to more well-off locals and foreign tourists, although this is quickly changing. The phone rang, it was Xiao Qing. She told me happily she’s been rostered off overtime today and whole day tomorrow and would be able to see me in the evening. Great, do you like Japanese? You know sushi, sashimi, raw fish? There’s cooked stuff too. She hesitated, I have not had it before but OK. Good girl, meet me at the Dong Chang station. I called Hans and he agreed to meet me for dinner and yes, he knew why Nextage Building is, just a short walk from our office, He’d meet me at the entrance of the restaurant. This girl has an uncanny ability searching me out from the throng of people and covered my eyes, ‘Guess who?’ from out of nowhere. We made our way through the crowd, mindful of pickpockets who’d have your knickers off before you even feel the draught. The Nextage Building is just 200m down the road. A JV of Yaohan and Shanghai No. 1 Store, it is now full owned by the latter following the demise of Yaohan in Japan. It is said to be the largest shopping complex in Pudong. One of our favorite meeting place of our group of friends, the Dayu Japanese restaurant stands out because it serves good and inexpensive buffet with a wide variety of sushi and sashimi, teppanyaki, all the beer, sake, wine you can possibly drink, with a good selection of deserts for RMB150 (RMB100 = >USD14.00). I can’t remember the times we staggered out the doors. They have a few restaurants about Shanghai but this store is my choice today because of its proximity to my apartment. Hans was already there, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and I immediately spied Xiao Xiao hiding behind a pillar. What do you know, the son of the sneaky… An advanced booking saw us going in ahead of a snake of people, and the captain we had befriended got us seated in an intimate corner. We placed our orders from the tri-lingual picture illustrated menu, Chinese, English and Japanese, a God-sent not only to foreigners like Hans, but also to bananas like me, you know, yellow out but white in, overseas Chinese who speak but don’t quite grasp the written Chinese. Anyway, they all left the ordering to me. More restaurants should make these menus available, and perhaps items like ‘bull organ stir-fly cows stomach’ might sound more palatable. Some small talk and we branched off to our own world. We held hands under the table and I told her she looks ravishing while we waited for the food to arrive. She blushed easily. She’s actually a manager in training, she enlightened me. Ahhh.. that explained the blazer instead of just a blouse, I suspect all along you were much too bright to be just a salesgirl, I said. She looked pleased. Just then the first servings arrived, followed by two flasks of warmed sake. I had taken the initiative of getting the girls a glass of Japanese plum wine each and a tiny plate with some plums that are soaked in the wine. The wine is sweet and of low alcohol content to be deceptively harmless, and it’ll help loosen Xiao Qing up. I eased the girls into the food. First the pickled octopus, a little chewy but moist, then pan-fried scallop. We ate slowly, while she sipped her wine agreeably, I ordered my second flask of sake. By the time the California rolls came, she had a faint flush on her face and smiling more. The sashimi platter, presented atop ice on bamboo boat, one really cannot expect toro, tuna belly, were fresh and so were the rest of the raw squid, salmon, swordfish, arc-shell, conch even, I ordered. I had diluted the wasabé in soy sauce with a couple of drops of sake to add a little body, just the way I like it. She declined but obviously enjoyed the strange but new taste of raw fish. The beef steak, cut to bite-sized cubes and pan-fried with cooking sake, soy sauce, coarse pepper and sesame seeds, is fragrant and just right, charred out, pink to just that hint of red in the middle. No Kobé beef, but still a prime cut nevertheless and one really in all fairness can’t ask for more for RMB150. We had seconds of the sashimi while the girls rounded it off with a fried ice-cream each, thin pastry wrapped over a dollop of ice-cream quickly fried so it’s a little crispy out and heavenly cold in. She fed me some but I am partial to desserts. Me? give us another flask of sake, thank you. We finished, Hans puffed a cigarette, as many patrons did. Smoking is not restricted yet although one has to ask for the ashtray. Hans graciously paid and said they’ll go their separate ways. I warned him not to spend too much money on her but knew he’ll do the exact opposite. We said our goodbyes at the door and see them to a taxi. A good thing about Japanese is you don’t feel stuffed from the over-eating. A short walk will do us good. I asked her maybe we should take a slow walk to my favorite foot massage parlor close to my apartment. She nodded in agreement.
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#41
14-01-2008, 06:32 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
nice smooth writing..how i wish i have such writing skill
__________________
阿彌陀佛
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#42
15-01-2008, 12:45 AM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
Interesting and well written story.... keep it up!
__________________
"when i read that smoking is bad..i quit smoking" "when i read that gambling is bad.i quit gambling" "when i read that sex is bad....i quit reading".
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#43
16-01-2008, 04:19 PM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
CHAPTER 14
The massage turned out to be a good idea, on hindsight. First, it gave the impression I’m not just out to get her in bed although in reality, my boxer was already somewhat wet just having her near; and second, it showed the caring side and the gesture did returned itself many folds. I asked for Da Li (Big Li), a blind masseur with years of experience. Although he is technically blind, he does have about 10% vision and sees shadows, and does not possess of the sunken nor clouded eyes I assumed all vision-challenged people have. A huge man with massive hands that could break eggs, he had a Carl Lewis hair which would look ridiculous on a lesser person. Oddjob comes into mind. He is surprisingly soft spoken and as I got to know him better, is well informed about current affairs and yes, seems a out of place as a masseur. I told Da Li to take good care of Xiao Qing’s tired legs while I had another blind masseur. The massage did a world of good for my legs. The Chinese believe the vital organs are connected to various parts of the soles and stimulating them unblocks and revitalizes the related organs. No prizes for guessing which part of my feet get the most treatment. I see Xiao Qing enjoying the massage, her eyes closed, occasionally flinching from the manipulation. A good part of the massage is spent on the arms and back, as well as the cranium while the feet are left soaking in a wooden tub of steaming solution of your choice, from mineral salts to herbal, to soften the tissues and absorb the goodness. We had the 80 minutes 2-sessions version which costs about RMB100 each, excluding tips, which is unsolicited but much appreciated. We walked out of there into the crisp evening air, she a little apprehensive of the events to come, I suspect. I have much work ahead to put her at ease. She has not been with anyone since she left home, some history with a man, I expect, but I have learned some things are best left untouched. ‘Aren’t you afraid coming home with me?’ I pushed. ‘No’ she said quietly, ‘I sense you are a good person. Bad people don’t blush’. Ouch! ‘But you know, I’m much older than you’. ‘Only if it’s a problem for you. Is it?’ Well, well, what do you know? this girl has some grey material in her head. The minder gave me a wink as we passed his tiny office to the lift lobby. I returned with a ‘Chi bao le ma? Have you eaten?’ ‘Are you buying?’ he shouted after me as we entered the elevator. ‘Welcome to my humble home’ I said as I pushed the door open. Do you live all alone here? She was astonished. I imagine the apartment she shared with a colleague is much smaller, so it looked such a waste of money and space for just one. Let me get you a drink. I had a bottle of Mateus Rosé from the airport on hand just for these occasions. It’s easy on the palate, fruity, not too dry and just right on the sweetness, perfect for the ladies, and I enjoy it too. With drinks in hands, we sat on the sofa. I kept a deliberate distance away. ‘You know, I like you the moment I saw you’, I said, ‘enough to make me go back 3 times, and even more times if you did not, errr, bumped into me. I really shouldn’t be doing this. I have a family back home and am not going to leave them or anything like that. I wasn’t planning to talk to you or anything that day, just acting out my fantasy, but I’m like a moth attracted to the flame. I would not be able to offer you anything other friendship and companionship’. She sighed, ‘Good men are always taken’. A long pause. ‘But I’m not naïve and it is wishful thinking for me to expect anything otherwise’, she looked up staring at the floor, ‘but I’m also like a moth’. I moved just a little closer and took her hands into mine. She shifted closer so our legs were touching. I bent my head and she met me halfway. I tasted her sweet lips which parted slightly, tasted her lips gingerly. I held her head, kissing her more passionately now. She broke away, just a moment to catch her breath and return for more, I obliged. After a few exploratory foray into her tongue, I urged her with my hands to sit on my lap, she side-saddled instead of straddling my lap. I came up for air, looked into her eyes, her hands clasped behind my back. She saw the question in my eyes and in it, I saw a yes, not a word spoken. I snuggled my nose into her neck, a faint whiff of fragrance. She lifted her head to allow me easier access, I nibbled and sucked at her earlobe, soft and pliant, she gasped and held me tighter. One hand behind her, my other hand crept to the front, up under the front of her wool sweater. My hand touched bare flesh, warm and smooth. I felt the wire support of her bra and palmed her full breast. Another gasp escaped her lips.
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#45
17-01-2008, 01:41 AM
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Re: Shanghai Nostalgia
Lately I have been consumed by this story. I just can't wait to start writing the next chapter. I ponder over it sitting on the toilet bowl, in the MRT, and generally neglecting stuff I can push to the next day. The evening walks I take daily is spent plotting the next chapter, who's the next character to introduce, catchwords to use, dramatic endings, recall that fishing trip, restaurant we ate, and so on.
And all you have to say Great read? Nah, just fucking your mind. Thanks a lot. CHAPTER 15 I could feel her nipple through the bra, hard and proud. With both hands now, I lifted her sweater. The bra was of a good make and supported her fullness with not a gap to spare. The clips were located in front and easily snapped off to reveal perfection itself. Milky white with pinkish areolas, the erect nipples is now engorged to a slightly darker hue. I would venture a B cup, a handful but not disproportionate to her frame. Perfect. Hungrily I clamped my mouth down, sucking, licking any which way I could. I spent an insurmountable amount of attention on those beauties, gentle licks rising to crescendos, alternating with two handed massages and soft butterfly wing flicks to the nipples. It had her on the edge and at one stage had to stop to massage her leg to assuage her cramp. Still I hold my own desires back, determined to pleasure this angel. I got up finally, held her hand to guide her to the bedroom. The room is now clothed in semi-darkness, ambient light filtering in from the neighbors’ units. I drew the translucent curtains, and helped Xiao Qing off the clothes. She had on a pair of cute red undies, the sort that had a cartoon figure stitched in front, with a tiny ribbon. The double layered crotch was dark with wetness, pulling it off her ankles, my felt the thick slippery slime, oh my… She half buried my head into my pillow to avoid my look. It’s really funny and endearing, these wonderful creatures, here they are completely nude and they are shy to look at your erection. I discarded my clothes. Lying up close to her, our first touch was electrifying. The entire sensory systems in the body seemed to exist only in the areas we were touching. The passion consumed us until we ceased to exist but as one. As though in a haze, not aware of our movements, we fused. I could feel her gripping me there. Strong hard grips, as though a hand is milking me. I can’t remember how long we were grinding against each other, an ascending spiral, desperate and a sudden explosion; the Italians call it a little death. I woke up in darkness and sat up in complete disorientation. Where was I? Home in Singapore? My eyes squinted to take in the surroundings. Slowly the furniture came into focus, there’s the old 24” TV at the foot of the bed, the cheap furniture, and then slowly I drifted back to reality. I’m in Shanghai, and just had the best loving of my life.
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