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Archive-name: Affairs/singapr3.txt

Archive-author: Friar Dave

Archive-title: Singapore Girl - 3

     It so happened that we didn't fuck for about three days after 

that. On the average, we fucked about every eight hours, so this was 

quite a long time. And it was just as well, in a way:

     "My asshole is sore."

     "I -- I'm not surprised," I said. "I wish it wasn't -- but I 

liked the way it got sore." I thought about my next words. "And so 

did you."

     Her eyes blazed at me. I saw the anger beginning in her face -

- and then it collapsed. "I know -- but that's what the gay boys 

do, isn't it? Do you wish I was a boy?"

     I started to laugh -- and then realized she was only half-


     "June, I like licking your cunt," I said quietly. "And so do 

you. Does that mean you wish I was a woman -- since cuntlicking is 

what lesbians do?"

     Her eyes half closed and she shivered. "I know!" She seemed 

amazed. "It makes me itchy when you say that -- but you know I 

don't like lesbians."  

     I licked my lips and stepped toward her. She put her small 

hand against my chest, keeping me away. 

     I didn't press it. Even if I'd been the kind of moronic 

asshole who tries to force himself on someone else, there was 

something else to consider: June had been an auxiliary cop in 

Singapore, with the attendant martial arts training. We'd sparred 

playfully a few times. She was just as fast as I and a helluvalot 

more deceptive in her movements. I knew I could absorb enormous 

damage, and use my superior strength to prevail, but I had no 

desire to do so -- and I didn't know if there were subconscious 

resentments in this hard-bodied young woman that could make a 

playful blow slip and do serious damage. This was just another 

equality that made her attractive to me: June could not be forced 

to do anything. Whatever she did, it was by choice. 

     "But!" She laughed and dropped her hand. She knew my respect 

for her prowess -- and, more importantly, simply for her. "But!"

     I nodded ruefully. "I know." 

     Indeed I did. She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they 

exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics, 

a sports competition for "special" children. Special meant 

retarded, for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled. 

In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June 

donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the 

Special Olympics. The timing of the sore asshole, in a way, 

couldn't have been better. The program was going to greatly limit 

the time we had together for the next week -- and it was one of the 

many reasons I was becoming more and more taken with her. 

     Which was also one of the things that really bothered Annie.


     Yes, ahem, well ... 

     At the time I met June, I had already known -- in every sense 

-- Annie for more than two years. I, like she in those pre-AIDS days, 

had other lovers. Annie knew about June, and June knew about Annie. 

Annie was a lot more at ease with the idea of June than vice-versa. 

When I said June and I fucked about every eight hours on the 

average, I meant "average." Annie and I spent two nights a week 

together, usually. Annie, like June, was a couple of years younger 

than me. We'd met when I was working a part-time job selling 

coffees and teas, during a publishing drought. What first got my 

attention was, oddly enough, her mind. I had a game I sometimes 

played with customers. Since the various coffees we sold had 

different per-pound prices, blends called for some arithmetic. 

After all, a couple of ounces of Kenya Double-A at $4 per pound and 

a quarter pound of French Roast Columbian at $3.65 a pound and two 

ounces of Yemen Mocha at $5.10 a pound, etc., gets one into the 

realm of challenging numbers. I made a gam of it.

     My game was to run it up in my head. (Not that tough, dividing 

by sixteen and keeping a running total, once you practice it; try 

it and see.) That scared customers who weren't accustomed to using 

those mental muscles. They only trusted calculators and adding 

machine tapes. So I had this deal: If they wanted, I would run it 

up on the adding machine. If I was wrong, they got the coffee free --

I would pay for it out of my own pocket. If I was right, they'd 

pay a fifty percent premium ... to me. 

     Few took me up on it. Those that did, lost -- always. 

     Annie came in on a crowded Sunday and ordered two ounces of this 

and three ounces op that and so forth. Ended up with six different 

beans in the pound. When I turned to tell her the price, she said, 

"Wait a minute -- five seventy....three? Yes. Yes. Five seventy-

three, if you round up for a half-cent."

     That's what got my attention. Then her face. I asked her if 

she was half-Chinese and half-Irish. She had reddish-brown hair and a 

fine boned faced. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were 

slanted. She explained that she was part Magyar -- the result of 

Mongolians overrunning eastern Europe Way Back When. Her face was 

fascinating and her mind was terrific.

     Her body was outrageous. Imagine a woman who's just over five-

foot-one and weighs about ninety pounds. Sounds scrawny, right? No 

way. She was very small-boned. Annie had absolutely beautiful, 

perfectly formed, firm and sumptuous breasts. Her waist was slender 

and her hips were narrow. She had a delectable little ass and the 

tastiest cunt...

     She was also completely uninhibited. Annie would do anything 

that felt good and anything she didn't like, she wouldn't do. She 

could suck cock expertly, loved to be licked, enjoyed cock in her 

cunt from any angle and enjoyed ass fucking. She was multiorgasmic 

in the extreme and very vocal about it. She liked men, she liked 

women, she liked threesomes, she had even enjoyed orgies.

     When I was fifteen and jerking off, I would construct the 

perfect sexual partner in my imagination. That image was Annie. I had 

to wait till I was in my late twenties to meet her and discover 

that reality could exceed imagination. Not only was she lovely, 

incredibly sexy and sweet, she was smart and perceptive.

     Of course, if this was fiction, Annie and June would have 

drooled over each other at first sight and we all would have fucked 

off together into the sunset. The fact was, though, that June 

hated the idea of doing anything with another woman and Annie didn't 

find June attractive (Annie liked -- and likes -- women with larger 

breasts and voluptuous hips and has a special weakness for long 

nipples.) In a way, that was no problem for me, since -- oddly 

enough -- being in bed with more than one woman at once has never 

been one of my major fantasies.

     In another way, it was a good thing. Considering how 

passionate and sexual both women were, a man caught between them in 

bed would have gone up in a puff of smoke. No cremation necessary; 

by dawn, there'd have been nothing left of the poor bastard but 


     I should have been in pig heaven. Here were two women whom I 

found tremendously attractive and felt the same way about me. For 

one reason or another, neither was willing to assert a claim of 

exclusivity on me. One was willing to get weird at the drop of a 

dildo, while the other simply Liked Doing Things. And one of them 

was going to be busy -- and had a sore ass! -- for a few days while 

the other was more than eager to make up a little lost time.

     But things were not perfect. For one thing, their periods 

coincided. No big deal, I thought, since it didn't bother me, 

either for fucking or sucking. But June was uncomfortable and Annie 

got cranky. And that was the least of it.

     See, while June was about to be tied up with her Jaycees 

project, Annie was about to spend two weeks visiting friends in 

France. She was doubly annoyed at the timing.

     I, on the other hand, had gotten used to fucking two or three 

times each day, sometimes with more than one woman -- and now I was 

looking forward (if that's the right term) to about ten days of 

Doing Without.

     True, the day before she headed for JFK and her transAtlantic 

flight, Annie and I lolled about in bed for about eighteen hours of 

sexual bliss. True, June stopped by the very next day, flipped up 

her skirt to reveal her pantyless cunt, grabbed her ankles and 

winked at me upside down between her knees. But that was going to 

be it.

     Ahh well, I figured. I needed to spend more time at the 

Selectric. And in a pinch, there were always the Palm Sisters and 

Fond Memories. Hell, what was ten days? I told myself.

     It could be a very long time, I told myself.

     To my amazement, on the Thursday night that Annie left for 

France and June left for Albany, I got a phone call from Philly: 

Barbie Shelton was coming to town.

     I had known Barb for about four years, at that point. She'd 

lived with Bertha, also an NYU student, in the same building as me 

during the Great Blackout of '77 and had come down to keep me 

company. Bertha knew I had just had a very bad breakup and was 

going -- quite literally -- crazy. Barbie saved my life. No shit -- 

I was seriously contemplating suicide when she decided to take me 

under her wing.

     I had seen her around the building from time to time. She had 

a sweet face and a placid demeanor and seemed like a nice, plump 

girl. I had no idea what kind of figureshe had, since she always 

wore big, loose mu-mu dresses. At about 2:30 a.m. on the second 

night of the blackout, after we had killed about two-thirds of a 

bottle of cheap red wine that she'd brought, she announced she 

really would prefer to stay with me rather than risk waking her 

roommate (whom I'd always found more attractive) by coming home 

late. Between the emotional shock of the breakup a few weeks before 

and my weariness (an hour of sleep at a time was rare) and the 

wine, I thought it sounded reasonable -- and no more than that. 

     But in the darkness of my bedroom, I felt something against my 

face, then something else. I stood and lit a candle and discovered 

Barbie had absolutely enormous breasts. "Where did THOSE come 

from?" I'd demanded. She'd laughed -- gently, as with everything 

else -- and beckoned me back to bed. I was rather unprepared for 

the body so carefully hidden under the loose, oversize dresses. 

Imagine a woman who's five foot tall, has 32-inch hips, a twenty-five 

inch waist and a bra labeled 32-D ... and who overflows the 

brasierre's cups.

     But what was wonderful about her was her sweetness and 

compassion. She loved my delight in licking her cunt  and found it 

simply amazing that I wasn't fixated on her tits. (I'd gotten over 

my big-tit cravings when I was 17. See, I had this cousin, the same 

age -- But that, as Conan's biographer would say, is another tale.)

     So Barbie was coming to stay with me for a few days while she 

visited friends in the city. I filled her in (in more ways than 

one. Heh.) on what I'd been up to and we made love a lot. She 

reveled in waking me one morning with her mouth locked on the tip 

of my cock and sucked me off, drinking me moaning dry and then 

sprawling on me and kissing my lips with my own cum on hers. We 

slept again, till nearly one in the afternoon, and then made love, 

with her on her face and a pillow under her hips, and then drowsed 

till dark. I can still feel the wonderful weight of her breasts 

pressed against me and the firmness of her ass under my fingers and 

the wet heat of her cunt against my hip and the slightly salty -- 

from perspiration -- taste of her ear when I kissed her awake that 

night. I went out and bought the fixings and prepared an odd dinner 

of broiled filet of sole, mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus. 

Then we went back to bed and made love again. Barb, wherever you 

are, you are precious. If you are not happy, call me and talk to 

me. You saved my life and my heart and I want to do for you.

     A week passed and June came back earlier than planned -- 

because, she said, she'd missed me and was itchy for me.

     Barbie had left for home two days before and I was randy as 


     I got over to June's apartment at six. I had just sold a 

piece and was feeling jubilant. As soon as the door was closed, she 

got a liplock on me and the only thing that kept my cock out of her 

was the aroma of broiling steak. She fended me off and we had a 

delicious meal. I didn't do it justice; I kept thinking of desert.

     When we got upstairs, June wanted to tell me of the Special 

Olympics regionals and I was more than willing to listen. But after 

forty minutes, as we were closing doors and shutting windows (heat, 

remember?), she suddenly turned to me and said, "Oooooh -- I am so 

itchy thinking of a big rubber dick."

     "I was surprised you could take that big dildo in your little 

cunt," I admitted. 

     "I told you my boyfriend-boss was very big," she said.

     "I thought you meant simply tall."

     "I don't want to think about him," she said. "I want to be 

with you. We can always use that big rubber cock."

     I smiled sadly. "I didn't think to bring it with me," I 

confessed. I was standing behind her and slid my hands under her 

blue sweater to hold her nipples. She pushed her ass against me and 

shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, her breath hissing. 

"But -- we can improvise." 

     She reached back and rubbed my cock through my pants. "This 

cock is so nice and hard -- " I bent and licked the back of her 

neck. She shivered and said, "And this tongue is so nice and wet --"

     "I want to fuck you -- now!" I breathed into her ear.

     That's when I began to discover just how kinky this lovely 

little Singaporean girl really was.



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