Welcome To The Panda House Ch. 01.2

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Big Clit

PART II: Naughty Night Noises Near Nidong

[Story continues from Chapter 1, Part I. Here’s where the down and dirty begins! – FGs]

I want to tell you a story
About a little cutie
She’s ass-slappin’ pretty
. . . She looks good enough to eat me
— Jeff Buckley, “Your Flesh is So Nice”

Now one of those two girls in my room during that sticky hot night in the Jingdezhen hotel was in a deep and innocent sleep, and one of them was enjoying herself with a passion.

Since I was sleeping in the third single bed, the one nearest the door, I couldn’t judge the distance of either sound. There was that rustling of the sheets and slight creak to the bedsprings, but cutting through that, the sound of wet slurps and aroused breathing filled the room. It was unmistakable, and loud enough to wake me.

Picturing either girl doing that in the dark had me enthralled, but I just had to figure out which was dirty enough to stick her fingers in her pussy so brazenly in a room with two friends.

Was it Ginny, who was in the bed next to the window? She’d always said she was a heavy sleeper–but was she the one giving such vigorous attention to the wet snatch I heard squelching away in the darkness? I had my suspicions about Mimi, too, the hot little slice of China girl between us. She was sort of solitary since she lived at home rather than the dorms–more the diddling type, perhaps?

I couldn’t believe my luck, but also couldn’t figure out how to exploit the situation without causing a messy scene with the mystery masturbator, who might not be open to getting a little help from her friends.

I carefully shifted from my left side to my back, where I could get a little better idea of who was at it. I was completely unable to keep from groping myself in the process, naturally, and hoped the noise from the fingerfucker would cover up my own rustlings. That night was all about wetness–between the drip, drip, drip at the sliding glass door as the rain seemed to slow up, the sloshing in my diddler’s snatch, and the precum already leaking from my seriously engorged tool.

I held it in what I call my kung fu grip, a technique honed over years of jerking with abandon – thumb and forefinger of my left hand pinching the base of my cock, trapping the flow of blood and hardening me up almost instantly, and my unoccupied fingers toying with my balls and giving them an occasional hard squeeze; my right hand is always closed tightly around the shaft just beneath the sensitive rim of the head, giving it that extra flaring throb I need to get off. Heavenly when there’s a little extra stimulation in the room!

My eyes were adjusted to the dark, but the curtains were closed and there were no lights on in the room save the cherry-red clock numbers – not very helpful for spotting rapid hand action in those conditions. The noises seemed to pick up, and I thought I heard the faintest vocalizations–a sort of soft, repeating grunt, building up to the frenziedly heated breaths of a girl who’s an expert at getting herself off. She was getting close to oh-gashum, as Mimi called it.

I positioned myself more to the right, still pumping my cock at full thrust. But my elbow caused a thumping sound as it jammed against the mattress, and instantly the erotic rhythms coming from my girl stopped.

I quit moving as soon as I sensed the change, but it was a beat too slow. Whoever it was, she was obviously waiting there in the dark, holding her breath, eyes wide open and unblinking, hand stayed over her cunt, shielding it, warming it, keeping it moist. Maybe she was keeping it hungry, too, making an occasional featherlight stroke along the oily slit with her ring finger–all she needed, compared with my barbaric fist bearing down tightly around my cock, the throb of my pulse there against my palm, echoed in my pounding temples.

My breath had just begun to come faster before she hit the brakes, and I struggled to control my noisy heaves now, mouth open, sweat collecting on my pillow. It lasted for several minutes like that–a kind of sexual staring contest there in the dark.

Of course, I could have ended the tension to avoid morning awkwardness. I could have faked it by imitating the long, full breaths of a deep sleep and waited till she tucked back into herself: chances were she would just pick right up where her fingerbang left off once she was assured I was asleep again, and I was perfectly happy jerking off to my mystery girl’s beat in the still of that Jingdezhen night. But the truth was I wanted, much, much more. I was going to exploit this somehow. I was getting sex tonight, and not from my hand.

I made my move, passive as it was: I let her know I was awake and bahis firmaları enjoying her. I rolled onto my back, threw back the covers, peeled off my shorts and t-shirt, and started jerking off again, this time with no attempt to hide the sounds of sausage-slapping. It seemed like an eternity before I heard anything above my own sounds, the heavy breathing of the sleeper, and the drip-drops on the balcony as the storm dissipated.

But then there it was.

She went right back to working that obviously gushing-wet cunt of hers in concert with my own music. I drew in my breath sharply, with a little quaver as I neared climax. We were getting each other off with just our ears and imaginations there in the pitch.

Soon her breath came more quickly again, and then a quite loud girl-grunt–something I’d heard in some of the Japanese porn that was popular here, high-pitched, almost that of a little girl. That HAD to be Mimi! I had to touch her, embrace her, see through what we’d started. This girl wanted a fucking.

But before I could even think of rocking out of my bed and into hers, I hear movement across the room–and the girl was bending over me, her long, straight hair undone and tickling my face. I still couldn’t see a thing, which heightened all my other senses. Her face brushed along mine, her petal-soft skin smelling of lavender and sweat: Mimi’s scent. I caught her lips in our first illicit kiss, wrapping my arms around her middle, pulling her over me.

She awkwardly legged up onto my bed and stretched out along the length of my body, running her hands down my strong arms until I took her hands in mine and brought them back onto those killer hips, circling around to that perfectly smooth, firm ass. Her entire body was tense, absolutely trembling with anticipation, fear, or desire–it was hard to tell, but was it ever exciting.

I always think of first kisses as learning a new language. We kept missing each other’s cues, crashing noses; one kisser had the mouth open, the other mouth closed, and then the reverse, until we finally found our place. Her kisses were softening against my lips as we explored those different combinations that all new lovers must–loud smacks, hard urgent pecks, and eventually those gorgeous, soft open-mouthed kisses that melt like the darkest chocolate. Her whole body was beginning to melt a little, relaxing, showing the release after the buildup over the past weeks (especially the nearly unbearable tension of that day).

I relished the feel of those pert little breasts crushed against me, her prominent nipples like two lovely little gumdrops poking through her sheer top. She was in a baby tee and pajama shorts, and my hands were roaming all over her, under her shirt to feel the perfect flare of her hips and lithe leanness of her back, traveling down into her shorts to that incredible bubble butt.

Soon her shorts were tossed aside, with the top to follow. She settled right back onto me, nuzzling my chest hair, kissing my nipples, the base of my throat, all over my cheeks–pouring out adoration. I could smell the remains of her finger session big as life, and I craved a sniff of that snatch, but as she sighed and pressed her mouth to mine and dug in her nose and breathed in my scent in that most passionate sort of kiss, I decided just to take it as slowly as she wanted. She seemed to be mapping out my body, its smells, its textures, tastes, and sensitivities, with hers.

I did a little of my own mapping by tracing a wet trail with my tongue over the top of her chin and down, down, down the hollow at the base of her neck and along the gorgeously smooth and soft skin at the slight cleavage between her breasts, breaking off into a closing spiral at her right breast and nipple, a quick pinch with my lips, and then another loopy line described across to her left side with similar treatment there. Her breath was coming faster, loving it, running her fingers through the thatch of reddish hair on my chest, her other hand clasping my head to her breast, clutching my hair. It was such a tender embrace, all in the darkness of the room; I remember wishing I had a picture of it.

Inevitably, I felt my cock stir, trapped as it was against her wiggly, trembling, warming pelvis covered by that bush of ultra-fine, straight pubes, that cute little monkey hair I’d mussed at the restaurant. I couldn’t hold back any longer: my hips rebelled and bucked my cock against her slit. She gasped loudly, as she had before in her own bed.

Had Ginny heard?

She brought me back up for a deep, passionate kiss–our first clash of tongues–and it went for minutes of sheer heaven. My cock was desperate now, throbbing, knocking down her door: kaçak iddaa her folds were hot, yielding, mustering a flood of her juices, absolutely welcoming the hot hardness sliding against it.

She touched her lips to my ear: “Make me oh-gashum” she whispered with her warm, aroused breath. “But… not that way.” Quickly she lay back at the foot of the bed–I made out through the darkness that she was making a spinning gesture with her hands, a little too flustered to explain. For a moment I was confused–how the hell else did she want it? Then I remembered our game of “I Never,” and what her favorite position was.

I got up and walked around to the foot of the bed, checking to see whether our mutual friend was still snoozing. All I could make out was Ginny’s outline in bed at the other end of the room. Mimi inched up so that her head hung over the edge of my bed, and in the darkness she must’ve got an interesting upside-down view of my shadowy, drooling cock as I stood over her head. She opened her mouth and opened her arms, urging me on. I gently guided the head in, just into the opening of her mouth, and relished her hot breath on my shaft. Her tongue snaked its way over the top of my glans, and I shivered with pleasure.

The 69 with man on top. She’d definitely done this before, and she preferred it, a position I always considered to be on the advanced level, and one I rarely had the chance to enjoy with the American chicks I’d known. Crazy college girls! Just what had Mimi been doing with those boys in the bushes outside the dorms?

She brought her hands around to my butt with a smack on each cheek, and pulled me in all the way to the hilt, sucking hard, drawing in breath through her nose until my big balls were caught at her nostrils by the vacuum. I could feel my head poking at the back of her throat. It seemed she wanted to take in every molecule of my sex with her most sensitive organs. Quite a compliment.

I wanted her with exactly the same passion. I leaned over, and dragged my tongue right down the middle of her incredibly tight, delicious body, with a nip at her ticklish belly button, pausing as I reached that wonderful-smelling dampness in the air that hung over her sex.

I smoothed the pubes that stood out from her with my cheek, nuzzled that zesty-smelling bush with my nose right at the hood of her already-prominent clit, and then brushed the gooseflesh of her inner thighs to signal her to open her legs. She lolled her tongue around my shaft in answer, and granted me better access by swinging her legs wide, into a V.

I teased her a bit here, zigzagging my tongue all over one thigh, heading straight for her slit, then hopping over it to write Zs all over the other thigh. She grunted in frustration, blew air out of her nose, which flopped my balls away from her face; then she sucked them back up again.

She swallowed, with some difficulty, and I realized just how far down her throat my rod was. I felt a huge throb of pleasure, and bucked against that poor girl’s face. I pulled back as quickly as I’d shoved in, worried that I’d gone too far and hurt her. She made a muted cry and pulled at my butt cheeks, where her hands were still firmly planted, as if urging me all the way back down. She really loved this treatment!

My back was getting sore, bent over as I was, so I scooted her butt back about a foot to could get my knees comfortably on the bed. We didn’t break our connection as I passed back a pillow for her to support the angle of her neck (always prided myself on being a gentledemon in the sack). She gave me a nice suck and mumbled something, possibly a thank-you, as she propped her head–and my cock slid even further down her throat, a fantastic feeling. Did she even have a gag reflex?

Whether accidentally or not, she perfectly cocked her hips by bending her legs at the knee. No more pussyfooting around–I planted my mouth on that tiny slot she’d offered up, and slobbered it with my spit, which elicited a long, muffled groan from sexy Mimi. The juices had built up behind her labial folds, and as soon as the opening was breached by my probing tongue, I was met with a lovely warm flow of fresh, young pussy juice. It’s the most delicious thing God ever created, and I’m lucky to be alive just to taste it. I dug my tongue deep into her soppy hollow and probed every nook and cranny I could reach to her approving (and stoppered) groans.

We weren’t being that noisy, but I was surprised to hear Ginny’s regular breathing just a few feet away. I thought, as I greedily corkscrewed my tongue into Mimi’s lovely hole, that Ginny could sleep through a house fire.

With my tongue, I practiced my Mandarin handwriting on the lips of Mimi’s kaçak bahis tiny, tiny slit, with special attention to her nice, hard little nub on the downstroke. There is a regular rhythm to Chinese writing, somewhat in the way of writing Roman letters, but the rules of how to draw the characters are hard and fast, which makes for a good steady beat in pussylicking with fantastic variations, depending on what you’re writing. I tried licking out a long poem I’d written about a sacred mountain and a divine grotto onto that creamy, dreamy cunt, and it seemed to make Mimi very happy, judging from the tune she was humming on my cock.

Her groans were getting longer and louder, even with her mouth stuffed, and it wasn’t long before her thighs clenched, and her pussy seemed to tense, which in turn made her clit poke out its little head. I seized it between my lips, created a vacuum in my mouth to engorge her clittie further, then made my tongue into a hard-yet-soft, silky-wet brush that pounded into that jumping, buzzing little bud in a series of exclamation points to punctuate the poem I’d composed. I rode her like that all the way to her shuddering climax. She clamped her thighs around my head until her slurpy grunts gave way to whimpers of tremulous satisfaction.

Mimi yanked her sensitive pelvis back from my efforts to continue. I softly, ever-so-gently placed my lips on her netherlips in a chaste, gooey kiss. Her juice clung to my face as I raised my head slightly for breath, and it dripped back down after collecting for a second on my chin.

I haven’t described it half as well as I remember it. It was among the greatest 69s in the history of the universe, I can tell you, and truly there was nothing else in the world at that moment but us locked in that divine embrace. Everything else completely fell away– there was nothing but beautiful, delicious, sloppy Suck.

What seemed like an eternal moment was only a moment of repose, after all, and soon Mimi renewed her efforts on me, sliding her tongue down the top side again as I slowly pistoned my shaft down. She caught the head on the upswing with a hard slurp and a swirling, swabbing, feathering action. That together with the humjob she was providing (her grunts at the aftershocks of her orgasm) was such a good feeling, I couldn’t help pumping in a little faster.

She squeezed my ass cheeks with those perfect, soft little hands, urging my pelvis into deeper penetration, as if she really just wanted to be stuffed there. I must have got a little carried away, because as the pressure and pleasure got almost too intense, and my cock got as steel-hard and driven as ever, I heard her gurgle for air, and felt her throat close exquisitely over my bone.

It made me lightheaded, it was so good, but I knew I needed to pull out of that poor girl. I mustered my willpower and yanked myself back and up, and as I did I uncorked her muted cries, which suddenly filled the room; she quickly drew in a huge breath of air, and craned her neck to get back at my cockhead, stretching her tongue out to graze it with the tip.

I wanted to let her breathe for a minute, not to mention tease her just a bit by withholding her pacifier. But now I feared the game was up, since Mimi had let out such a shout. I remembered the hotel, and the room, and our roommate–

“I think he’s ready for you, Ginny,” Mimi said between gasps, to my complete surprise.

“The name’s Phil, remember?” I whispered, laughing. I actually thought she’d mixed up our names, but of course she hadn’t.

There was the snap of a lighter across the room; a candle flamed up on the table between Mimi’s and Ginny’s beds, casting a faint flickery glow on the room. It was one of those fat fragrance candles exactly like the ones that Ginny had around her apartment back in Wuhan. I looked up from the tightest, tastiest snatch I’d eaten in my life, my mouth glazed with fresh, young pussy juice, to see Ginny wide awake and watching us.

Ginny, or Ginger more properly, my upstairs neighbor, prim English girl with a name that matched her hair color, who a had boyfriend back in the U.K. Before that moment, she’d seemed to me the type of girl whose idea of a bad night was reading Jane Austen over a glass of sherry, with her aromatherapy candles burning and Coldplay turned all the way up. Here was this sweet, supposedly harmless girl sitting stark naked on her bed, gazing on the spectacle of a tangle of bodies across the room as she settled her back against the wall, creamy white legs spread lewdly in our direction, right hand buried in her pussy, working it fast.

Panic caught up to me with a thumping rush of adrenaline. The true situation began to dawn, and fortunately for me, the morning light was far off yet.

“Good,” sighed Ginny, locking eyes with me, slightly out of breath from her enjoyment of our little show, “because I’m damn sure ready for him.”

© 2008 The Filthy Gingers

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