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Archive-name: Affairs/singapr1.txt

Archive-author: Friar Dave

Archive-title: Singapore Girl - 1

     They say a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. But I can't claim 

to be a gentleman. Besides, all bets are off when the woman -- 

     But that comes later.

     And -- oh, yes -- this is a true story. Really happened. Only 

her name has been changed. Not to protect her -- she did not need 

protection -- but to keep my ass out of court.

     I met June (not her real name) in a Laundromat in the 

Village. I had seen her there a few times and couldn't help 

noticing. For one thing, she was female and most of the clientele 

was male and gay. I had outgrown my homophobia years before and on 

the rare occasions when one of the guys cruised me, I told him 

(truthfully) that I was flattered and declined. Hell, how could I 

not be flattered? There were a lot of devastatingly good-looking guys 

around who were obviously gay, and someone had found me attractive 

enough to make a pass; I had to be flattered. 

     In a way, that was how June and I got to know each other. She 

overheard me talking with Jimmy, one of the other long-time 

customers. He was surprised at my equanimity when a newcomer had 

cruised me.  Jimmy told me what a lovely way it was to decline. I 

told him it was simply the truth. Amazing, isn't it -- that faggots 

should find the truth just as lovely as we unrepentant straights 

do? Golly, maybe they're almost human.

     June was decidedly female. She was only about five feet tall, 

with jet black hair in a pageboy cut framing a rounded, pretty 

face. Her black eyes, behind her eyeglasses, were wide for an 

oriental and if there was a fault to her face, it was that her lips 

were a bit too generous and lush. Some fault, huh?

     Anyway, about five minute after the chat with Jimmy, June 

asked me for help with one of the dryers. I've got a knack for 

mechanical things (heh!) and I was glad to have a way to get closer 

to her.

     She was wearing a light windbreaker, half-unzipped, over a 

loose white blouse and a pair of spray-on jeans. Her boots were a 

half-heel style that wasn't flat and wasn't high-spiked. She had a 

cute ass, but the way she carried herself, for all her perkiness 

and cuteness, wasn't inviting; businesslike.

     I jimmied the dryer and told her that I'd seen her there a few 


     "I've seen you, too," she said, forthrightly. June was, I 

would learn, very forthright in almost every way. "And I've had 

trouble with these machines before." She slapped the dryer and 

laughed. She had a great laugh. 

     I asked why she hadn't asked my help before.

     "I see how well you get along with the gay boys, I thought you 

were gay."

     "By that logic, if you see me getting along with a Puerto 

Rican, you should think I'm Puerto Rican."

     "But how can you stand the gay boys? I hate lesbians!"

     "I don't care who or what they sleep with if I'm not there. 

And since this is a Laundromat and not a waterbed ... "

     She laughed again. As I said -- a great laugh.

     In the course of conversing, between the two of us, we found 

some excuse for me to come back to her place for drinks. I arrived 

at ten p.m., hoping -- for she had a gorgeous ass.

     June occupied the entire third and fourth floors of a 

brownstone on Greenwich Avenue, not far from Tenth Street. In the 

sitting room on the fourth floor, over white wine on wall-lining 

sectionals, listening to some soft rock, she explained that she was 

the New York office of a Scandinavian import-export firm. About 

half of the third floor was offices -- she had her teletype and 

phones and files there -- and the rest of the third floor was a 

formal dining/conference room, a half-bath and a kitchen. The 

fourth floor, in addition to the living room, had a television 

room, a bedroom and a full bathroom.

     We got more at ease with each other. I learned she was ethnic 

Chinese, from Singapore, and had lived in Connecticut when she 

first came to the United States. Before that, she'd lived in 

Scandinavia for a few years, trying to improve her position with 

the ex-im firm she'd joined in Singapore. I learned a little bit 

about how tough it was to be new to America and alone, even with 

the advantages of a legitimate working visa and deep-pocketed 

financial backing. 

     Soon we were snuggled together under a blanket on the 

sectional -- as with all Village apartments, the heat was 

inadequate; I think it's a law in New York -- and then we were 

cuddling and then we were kissing. Her lips were as warm and moist 

as I'd imagined, and her kisses were just the right combination of 

passion and sweetness. Soon, she was straddling my thigh as we 

clinched and I could feel her moisture through her jeans and mine. 

I unbuttoned her blouse and mouthed her breasts through her bra. 

She was decidedly Chinese in that her tits were shallow and firm, 

with nipples that responded slowly -- but when they did, they were 

outstanding! I raised the bra to get at her bared breasts and she 

ran her hands through my hair as I licked and sucked at her tits.

     "Let's go to bed," she said. "Here, since I have to send a 

Telex at four-thirty this morning."

     Forthright and businesslike, op. cit.

     I agreed -- of course! -- but little did I suspect what would 

come next: June proceeded to prepare for bed as if she'd known me 

fore years. You probably know the routine: remove the make-up, take 

a shower (in her case, a shallow bath), etc.

     I was somewhat at a loss for what to do, so I hung around 

and watched it. All of it. (Well, almost all; even June didn't 

want to be watched doing Some Things.) As the make-up came off, so 

did the determined businesswoman face. She looked younger than her 

twenty-eight years; maybe twenty or twenty-one.

     But believe me, when she came to bed, it was worth the wait. 

She came into the bedroom wearing a robe and a flannel nightgown. 

(Remember: no heat.) 

     "Why are you dressed?" she asked, and quickly removed the 

robe -- and only the robe -- and slipped into the bed. She threw 

back the coverlet, comforter and sheet to expose half of the 

(queen-size) bed and patted the pillow. "Come on -- or did you 

change your mind?"

     I knelt on the bed, straddling her thighs, and laid myself upon 

her from above the covers as lightly as possible and began kissing 

her again. In moments, she was stripping off my turtleneck sweater 

and undershirt and fumbling with my belt. Every now and then, she'd 

caress my balls and my cock through my jeans and she'd squirm. 

     I slid to the end of the bed, stood and stripped -- and then I 

wormed my way under the covers, licking and kissing and nibbling as 

I went. I didn't bother removing her nightgown; I simply pushed it 

up to her waist. I grabbed her hips and pulled her firm ass to the 

edge of the mattress.

     Kneeling on the wide-planked pine floor I began to eat her. 

She shivered when I licked the insides of her thighs, and I could 

smell the sweet, healthy, lusty aroma of her cunt juices long 

before I reached it. I slid my hands under her ass, cupping her 

hard cheeks and lifting her towards my mouth. I dove in.

     Through the muffling of the blanket, I could hear her shrieks 

match her writhing as she came. And came. And CAME! Her juices 

weren't merely sufficient or ample; they were copious! She flowed 

and flowed and flowed.

     (Note: Some people will tell you that all oriental women are 

bald Down There. Not true. A few are, completely. Some have only 

sparse hair. But all have this in common -- in my experience -- 

What hair there is, is straight, fine and soft.)

     When I finally came up for air, the sheets were soaked, her 

cunt hair was soaked and my beard was soaked.

     June lay there and panted -- massaging her tits and rubbing 

her nipples.

     "Nobody ever did that before!"

     "No one ever ate that gorgeous cunt of yours?" I couldn't 

believe that.

     "Oh, sure," she said, "like it was a favor -- but you seem to 

enjoy it!"

     "I love to eat you!" I said. "It turns me on -- a lot!"

     She paused, gripping her nipples. "I -- I want to suck you..."

     I heard the hesitation in her voice and took a guess. "It's 

not your favorite thing, is it?"

     She hesitated; that answered me. 

     "Don't worry about it," I said, pulling the covers back the 

rest of the way. Her nightgown was gone, removed and discarded at 

some point when my attention was concentrated far south. "What I 

want to do right now is fuck you."

     She lay there, fingers clenching her nipples, and seemed to 

tense all over -- and then she shivered, unmistakably cumming.

     "Ooooooo -- I like it when you talk dirty to me. What are you 

going to do?"

     I reached down and lifted her legs till they were on my 

shoulders. I was standing bare on the floor beside the bed. 

Remember: Her sweet, hot ass was at the edge of the bed. 

     I leaned forward, watching for any sign of discomfort. I 

needn't have worried; she was very flexible. My posture forced her 

legs back and her cunt higher. When my face was next to hers, I 

locked my gaze on hers. Her lovely eyes were heavy-lidded with 

lust. I reached down, took one of her hands in mine and lead it to 

my cock. My dick is about six inches long (this is, after all, a true story) 

and on the thick side. My cock was harder than it had ever been, 

even with that seventeen-year-old Homecoming Queen from Ohio. She 

grabbed and pulled on it, short strokes that told me of her hunger.

     I bent farther and kissed her lips, then her breasts.

     "What am I going to do?" I nipped her nipple lightly between 

my teeth. She shivered again. "I'm going to fuck you!"

     She was bent almost double, her thighs pressing her nipples, 

when I introduced the head of my cock into her cunt. She shrieked 

when I was halfway in; I slammed the rest of the way and ground our 

pubic bones together and she came again.

     "Say dirty things to me!" She gasped desperately.

     I obliged as I fucked her. I don't pretend to be a great 

lover; she was ready and eager to cum a great deal and she did, 

over and over again. When I finally relaxed and let myself cum, 

she was nearly inert -- except for her cunt -- and in a state of 

constant orgasm. When I collapsed beside her, I knew I had found 

someone special.

     Little did I know that so far, June had been as conventional 

as she ever got to be.



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