My Chinese Maid (4)

Posted by: Author: Age: 60 Posted on: 0 comments
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Hot days, a cold cucumber and some Chinese do's and don'ts.

 

Following our lascivious lunch on Monday, my Chinese maid put her cucumber into the refrigerator, explaining that she would have it cold on Friday and made me promise not to eat it. Knowing her intention, that was a promise I found easy to keep. What was difficult was keeping my hands off my dick, which shed its wrinkles whenever I opened the refrigerator!



Friday finally came and after a quick lunch we showered together for the first time. There was no proper shower recess, but a corner of the bathroom provided sufficient space to accommodate our lively behaviour. Our bodies, slippery with soap and shampoo, moved over, under, against and around each other giving us a whole-of-body mutual masturbation. When eventually the hot water ran out, we were both very ready for the promised cucumber spectacle.



She took it from the fridge and with reverence, washed and dried it carefully. I recoiled when she pressed it against my belly. It was icy. 'A cold cucumber for a hot pussy' she explained.



I recalled how her snug vagina had gripped my finger and my worried look prompted her to remind me she had two sons. Seeing she was serious, I lubricated the pointy end, up to where it broadened to almost two inches in diameter. She got it started and then told me to push. I was hesitant, but she was not! With her hands back against the bed-head she gave a huge shove and suddenly, almost half the cucumber was inside. She paused a moment to catch her breath and then drew back. I watched in awe as the walls of her vagina formed a vivid pink bracelet around the green shaft, so wonderful and yet so bizarre. She looked at me smugly, knowing she had me enthralled, and began rocking against the vegetable in my hand. Minute by minute there was less and less to hold, then suddenly it was gone. I looked up in amazement as she exclaimed: 'Definitely not too big'! She stood and bounced about on the bed like a teenager at a slumber party, beaming proudly. I held her still and felt inside. So strange, so fantastic! Then I kissed my clever Chinese maid. My fingers felt between her buttocks. One found its way through the still lubricated sphincter and felt the same strange hardness. She pulled away and did a little dance of joy, then demanding that I watch, she squatted slightly. Suddenly it was all there again in my hands, wet with her juices.



She went for a pee and came back carrying a small watermelon and a knife. It had been on the windowsill in the sun and was quite warm to touch. I pointed out it would be more tasty cold but she just waved me away. Carefully she removed a circle of skin about two inches in diameter and with it, a cone of pink flesh. Then she wedged the melon firmly against her crutch, and suddenly I saw myself at twelve, being coached by a farm hand, to masturbate using wild melons we found in the back paddock. She reached for me and my lips were already on her breast as she guided my erect penis to the pink hole in the melon. I pressed in tentatively, felt its warmth and strange resistance. Her hands were on my bum, urging: 'Fuck me foreigner!' Grasping her shoulders I thrust and felt the resistance yield as my pubis came hard against the warm skin. It felt incredible. I was twelve again! Again and again I plunged into the warm pink flesh, reducing it to pulp and grinding the melon against her clitoris. She moaned in pleasure, or perhaps in pain but I was unable to stop my thrusting as the climax overwhelmed me and my semen flowed into the melon.



'I know I was masturbating but I felt like I was fucking you.' 'I felt like a watermelon was masturbating me!' 'Can I get a banana?'

'No, just rest.'



I raised myself on one elbow and looked down at my Chinese maid. She let me kiss her properly. It was our first time. I recalled her earlier recital of Chinese sexual do's and don'ts: Chinese don't kiss on the mouth; Chinese don't take their clothes off to make love; Chinese don't masturbate each other; Chinese don't do oral sex; Chinese don't do anal sex. In a moment of post-orgasmic clarity, I decided that these must only apply to married couples. I probed for an explanation, keen to know more about her people of the Middle Kingdom, and she did her best to satisfy my curiosity.



She and her classmate got their marriage certificate when they were both 22 and, that very afternoon, still in their wedding clothes, both lost their virginity. He ejaculated twice, once outside when she stroked him and again after they finally managed to get his penis through all the layers of clothes, and her hymen. It hurt a bit and there was blood but she joked: 'Chinese brides wear red so it didn't matter'. She had found it all very exciting but didn't climax. However, that was not a problem then or at any time during their marriage. She had been doing it for herself since middle school and he liked to watch. If he was home, they had intercourse once or twice a week, but he was often on the road, so she never forgot how to pleasure herself. When she was having her periods she would masturbate him with her hand. He liked that very much, especially when she let his semen fly, but she thought it was wasteful, at least until she became pregnant. They had the two children they were permitted as rural residents and, unlike many of their friends, continued having intercourse occasionally. He would have probably impregnated her a third time if she had not been sterilised.



Then my Chinese maid explained how they met a childless couple about their age from a neighboring work unit and their sex life changed dramatically. However, it was time to go back to work so, reluctantly I dressed, making her promise to tell me more on Monday. I reached for the despoiled watermelon, thinking to dispose of it discretely on my way past the garbage collection point, but she waved me away, pledging to take care of it.

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