Tales Of The East Indies

© Sven the Elder - Nov. 1997

A real life adventure - or maybe it was all a fantasy - you will have to make up your own mind.

They say confession is good for the soul, so here, for what it's worth, is one. It covers a recent visit to one of the more civilised parts of South East Asia - and, no, it wasn't Thailand or the Philippines. Whether I am proud of what happened or not is not something I wish to examine. Who can ever fully explain their actions? I guess only a shrink might be able to tell me, and I have never been to one, never needed one, and don't need one now. So: to the tales; make of them what you will.

I now completely understand the feeling of loneliness. The most I had been away from home before was about a week. I didn't know how I could handle three weeks. Especially in a remote part of a really foreign land where few spoke English and there was little in the way of European companionship.

It becomes difficult; I have, and always have had, a fairly high sex drive. After a comparatively short time away, I found that the Shiatsu massage parlour took over a little from my missing my wife. A hand job from a strange woman is just that; it becomes mechanical relief. Don't get me wrong - it beats self-abuse hands down; indeed, it was a mind- blowing experience, for several reasons. Nobody had ever - and I mean EVER - done it to me before, not even xxxxx my wife, and the way it was done was so good and polished that it was an incredible experience. Never, even in my younger more virile days, have I ever ejaculated so hard that both a first and second spurt hit a ceiling nearly six feet above. When I say I came hard, do I ever mean it. It sure as hell felt as if I were trying to expel my balls out through the tip of my penis. It was the most incredible experience. Only one woman out of all the massage girls could ever achieve it. Two of the other girls wouldn't do it; one of the others was only a pale imitation. I suppose that Isis was just highly skilled.

Isis was not a tall girl; few of the natives actually were. She was certainly no oil painting, conforming to that much maligned small breasted pear shape, with heavy hips that some of the locals develop in middle age. Not a shape that you would dream about, or ever believe could harbour the talents it did. Her toes and fingers were instruments of both torture and great pleasure. They could tease out the knots in my muscles in a way that almost hurt it was so good.

The sexual approach that Isis used was a very deliberate thing that was almost casual in its application. It was built up over almost half an hour. I started by lying face down. She worked on my back first, by standing on the massage bench and holding onto a special overhead beam. Isis used that both for balance and for taking some, but not much, of her weight. She stood, very carefully, on my pelvic arch, which easily took her extra weight; then she probed with her toes. I was covered with a towel at this point, and using her toes very precisely she used her weight to break the knots and loosen the joints in my back and legs. It's a hell of an experience - intense, not overly painful, but not especially comfortable either.

Then, using an oil, Isis started on one of my feet and slowly worked her way up that leg, with me still face down. Her fingers worked at all of the muscles in turn. Idly I wondered how far she would reach, as her fingers were moving up the inside of my leg.

The first jolt of realisation that this was different came when Isis 'accidentally' brushed my scrotum from behind with her fingers. During your first massage, your immediate reaction is her cue as to how she will continue. If you are startled and look annoyed, the expression is "sorry" and nothing more will happen. If, like me, you enjoy it and make more room, it occurs again. I glanced over my shoulder and echoed her slight grin before relaxing and laying flat again. The oil and massage continued to the tops of the inside of my thighs and all round my ass. Her fingers just touching, teasing my asshole, kneading deeply, then brushing lightly, continuing all the time with that feather touch on my balls.

Jesus, were those fingers talented! It took a lot of self-control not to blow my wad right there and then. The towel was then moved to allow access to the other leg, and it started all over again with my other foot. If anything, the feelings were even more intense, because I knew what might happen. My erection was like iron and aching. I swear my balls were bright blue. After even more intense stimulation, Isis then moved on, almost reluctantly, to my back and neck. This allowed some of the sensations to die down, but the only real effect was to put them on the back burner for a while.

Isis then asked me to turn over, and my burgeoning erection was noted with a gentle smile. She then worked the same way on the front of my legs, with the towel draped almost obscenely over my penis. It just grew and grew; eventually the towel slipped off, and Isis didn't bother to replace it. I know from curiosity in my younger days that normally I could produce about eight, maybe eight and a half inches. In the height of passion, you could maybe add another bit to make it close to nine. I swear, I have never seen or felt it so large - it was fiery red and throbbing.

In the end, Isis simply added oil to it and ran both hands round it. Then, with one hand round my balls, squeezing them very gently, she stroked with me with the other hand. Her timing was exquisite, even if I lasted somewhat less than a minute. Isis built and timed the climax of her actions virtually precisely to mine, and I watched the spurt hit the low ceiling with two bursts, and then go on to produce more fluid than I ever had before -- it must have been the final insertion of a well-oiled finger in my ass stroking my prostrate that did it.

I knew I hit the ceiling, and so did she. She actually climbed onto the bench and wiped it off. My heartbeat must have been up towards the two hundreds. Isis actually took about five minutes to gently stroke my chest and stomach to reduce my erection to a limp state. She then let me doze for about ten minutes to allow my heart rate to get back down to less than dangerous before she finished the massage off.

I thought that the effect might have been due to the fact that, by that time, I had been away from home for almost a week. Perhaps it was, but when Isis did it again four days later, the feeling she produced was just as intense, both physically and mentally. The build-up was the same but, instead of using oil, she decided to use her lips and tongue to finish me off, with both her hands working on my ass and my balls. The effect was painful, totally awesome, very special, and if it never happens again, I will remember it to my deathbed. After the second attack by Isis, my balls ached for almost twenty four hours. But what an ache!

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The other tale was an incident which was not premeditated, but, when it happened, it felt almost preordained. By star sign, I am exactly, to almost the second, divided between Taurus the Bull and Gemini the Twins. Now, say what you like about astrology, then go out and buy the book by the American lady astrologer Linda Goodman called, perhaps surprisingly, "Linda Goodman's Sun Signs." Start by reading your own. It will change your perception of astrology forever. Gemini, the twins, make for a semi-schizoid personality, in most cases controlled; but you tend to almost, at times, have a split personality. The Taurean character leads to a stubbornness that, at times - please, please understand - leads you to do things with little thought for the consequence.

I have wondered, over the years I have been married, what I would do if I were ever offered on a plate, so to speak, the opportunity to sleep with someone else. Would I take the opportunity, or would I be strong? I guess you never truly know unless it happens. Well, it happened; and I slept with an Asian girl of about twenty-five, maybe thirty years of age. I suppose the best you can say is that, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. No, don't get me wrong: in retrospect, it was not the cleverest thing to have done, but the Gemini in me has no regret. Even when you're over fifty and have a high sex drive - and I am and I do - it's nice to know that you can still pull. And if, like me, you've not had sex for a few days, even hand jobs, it's nice to know that you can manage to do the job four times in the course of a night - Oh, all right then, three and a half!

How did it come about? Well, there was another bar close by where I was staying. I got on well with the guy who ran it, and he reintroduced me to pool. As an aside, if you want to really upset one of your fellow Americans, confess that you haven't played pool for nearly twenty years and then hammer the poor devil.

I got very lucky. He gave me the split, and I put down two 'stripes' off the split and left myself an easy clearance for the others. The final ball dropped easily; he never even got to the table. I didn't buy another drink all night; the bar organiser bought them for me on the hotel's slate. It also led directly to the results at the end of the evening. The American left in a huff, and the boss man told me he had hoped that someone would finally take him down a peg or two. I just got very lucky.

At that point we were joined by two Asian girls, both looking to be in their mid-twenties, and we four played a foursome for the next hour. One of the girls was slightly older and prettier, very slim, about five foot, in jeans and tight sweater, God knows what bust size (unlike most of the stories on a.s.s I can't tell instantly), but in nice proportion. During this time it was difficult not to notice that she very attentive towards me. The boss man told me she had the 'hots' for me; mind, even I had noticed.

They both went off to the ladies'. He then told me she was mine if I wanted her for the night. I asked about std's, and he said she comes from a good family, doesn't sleep around, and she was clean. She was between boyfriends, on the pill, and had asked him to see if I would sleep with her, as she fancied me and had always wanted to sleep with an Englishman! In that moment I was lost, and I said sod it, and yes. I gave him my room number, and he said she'll probably ask for money; settle for fifty dollars. (Everyone asks for money for everything out here; the price of my earlier hand jobs was a $6 tip!) He told me to go to my room and wait there before she came back.

So I went. I got to my room and had a whiskey, and thought: what the hell have I done? After about ten minutes, I thought she wasn't going to arrive. Then there was a gentle knock on the door, and I looked through the security hole. She had come, and on her own, so I let her in and closed the door.

They say that actions speak louder than words. She put her arms round my neck and kissed me, slowly running her hands down my back and sides and finishing at my crotch at the front. Now if you were paying attention a moment ago to the earlier part of these tales, you'll know that I am not small. I will tell you: her eyes opened very, very wide, and she had a sharp intake of breath with a slight look of panic. She knelt down to start undoing things, then remembered "business before pleasure" and said in very broken English, "You give me hundred dollars for taxi?" Well, I have always been a sucker for a pretty girl, and believe me, in an oriental way she was, close up, stunning. Not only that, the bar boss was as good as his word: she tasted and smelt fresh and clean. She had even, like me, cleaned her teeth. I felt then that this lady was no hooker. I am sure she came from a good home, and I so believe, even now. In any case, it is against my principles to haggle over something like that; it seems churlish. I simply nodded and pointed to the side table where I had put my bill fold. She opened it, counted out $100 dollars, and put it in her bag. She could have asked twice the amount and I would have paid up - as the joke says, the brain was dead; this was 'dick-speak' time.

My erection was so hard I was beginning to hurt, so I moved behind her and put my hands round her waist; she held them and moved them to her tits - no bra. She felt me twitch and she laughed, putting her hand round her back, to my front. She turned around, knelt down, and undid my jeans and removed them, followed by my shorts. She then really did look startled. She tasted the dew-drop and licked her lips, taking just the head of my penis into her mouth. I didn't really want a blow-job and, truthfully, she was not able to take very much. She still gave it a nice little bit of suction before moving to stand back up and continue kissing me.

As she stood up I took her top off, and it was my turn to gasp. Even though I knew her to be in her late twenties, she had the frame of a much younger woman, with the most naturally beautifully shaped tits I have ever seen, and I am married to a pretty good pair. They were exquisite, in shape, size, and form. It was my turn to attack them with my lips, and she moaned very softly. We both knew then that this was going to turn very physical in a very few seconds.

She undid her jeans and stepped out of them, turning round to put them on the chair, on top of mine actually, and I put my hands on her hips from behind and slipped her panties down so that she was naked. When she turned round I nearly came on the spot; she really was a very, very beautiful young woman. Thinking about it since then, she has to be the most superb naked woman I have ever seen. As she removed my old shirt, she actually ripped the buttons from it; I threw it away and I told xxxx the laundry had spoilt it. She giggled and pushed me on my back onto the bed. Now in my youth I used to 'collect' the taste of different pussies, and I wanted this one, so I rolled her over and started to go down on her. I don't think it's done too much in that part of Asia; she wasn't too keen at first. But believe me, she was as clean and fresh as she smelt, and boy was she wet, and did she taste good. She started jerking, twitching, and crying out as she held my head in her hands and had her first orgasm on the spot.

I eased off to let her come back down and she pushed me back, climbing on top of me. She held me in place and slid just the head of me into her. Her eyes were very wide, and she sort of sat up and balanced with her feet flat on the bed. I really don't know how she did it, but she sort of panted her way down onto me. It was an incredible experience, and even though she was not actually uncomfortably tight, she was a slick, tight fit.

I had my knees up, and she leaned back against them as she bottomed out, pubic bone to pubic bone, after maybe thirty seconds of sliding onto me. I swear her stomach bulged to where I reached, and that appeared to be close to her navel. I do not know how she took me; she did look very pleased though. I moved gently inside her and she came again, and the quivers and contractions took me as well. She reached down to where we were leaking our combined fluids, and she took a scoop and licked it off her fingers; I think it was the most erotic sight I have ever seen. She did it without taking her eyes off me and, even though I had just come a gallon, she kept contracting gently on me, keeping me hard. Without breaking eye contact, she scooped up a little more and offered it to my lips. I had never done that before, but I licked her fingers. Clean, slightly salty, not unpleasant, very, very, very erotic, believe me.

She just sat there on top of me, pulsing gently, and I could feel myself rising to the next peak. I held her and straightened a leg, rolling over on top of her and holding myself above her so as to allow her to breath. She was incredibly supple, and while I held myself up off of her she brought both legs up underneath me and out to the sides, so that they were now touching the backs of my arms. I lifted first one arm, then the other, and she brought her legs round to put her ankles by my ears. This had tilted her pelvis forward until I was almost straight down into her. Just two strokes brought us off again. This time I eventually slipped out of her, even though I was still half hard.

Then something occurred that I have read about in the sex stories of others, but which I never, ever thought that I would either do or, more to the point, actually want to do, this side of hell. She slipped over the top of me and cleaned me with her tongue and mouth. This brought her own sex close to me. I ate her out and cleaned her of all of our combined juices and, so help me God, I enjoyed doing it! What's more, even though by now I ached, it made me become hard again. She snuggled up to me with her back towards me, and, as she was still lubricating like a waterfall, I slid inside her again. It was so intense it almost hurt. Then, with her back to me, she rippled her uterus muscles, and after a few short minutes she started wriggling and squeaking and she came off again, and again so did I. I know I then fell asleep, half hard and still inside her.

That, I think, was just gone 1 am, the whole experience having started about 11:15 pm. I woke at about 6 am to the smell of warm cunt just above my face, dripping with her own desire. She was trying to get as much of me in her mouth as possible; she gave up trying when I ate her to another fairly intensive high. When she had come down, she slowly scooted round and lowered herself, slowly and continuously, until I was buried in her, and we lazed for a while with her lying on my chest. Gradually we started to move, and I came again - a dry one I fear - for the fourth time in about 7 hours. I haven't done that - no, I correct myself - I haven't been able to do that since I was a teenager.

We showered, washed, and dried each other without making it again. She slipped out of the door and my life shortly afterwards. Regrets? If I am being totally honest - no. Would I do it again? I suspect if I knew that xxxx would never find out and the situation was right - maybe. I couldn't be more accurate than that. Was she really clean? Before I left, I again spoke to the boss man. I believe then, and now, that he told me the truth. These people are lovable rogues, and, anyway, this guy was a good Muslim, and they simply don't deliberately lie like that.

Anyway, something else happened. As I was booking out later in the day and getting into the minibus with another ex-pat to go to the airport, a large Mercedes swept into the Hotel entrance. Now in this part of Asia, to own a Mercedes you have to be seriously wealthy - I mean VERY seriously wealthy. She got out with another older, equally attractive woman who had to be her mother. I was her toy; she had used me, if you like. That said, I am glad she is now inaccessible to me, because if the situation arose - and it probably would if she lived within distance of me - I would almost certainly be serially unfaithful with her, if I could.

By the way, the other ex-pat looked at her and said, "Jeez, I'd give a lot to get into her pants."

I looked him straight in the eye and said, "If I told you that she spent all of last night until 6 hours ago with me, you wouldn't believe me, would you?"

He looked at me and said, "No - but did you?" I said yes, and I think something in the way I said it made him realise that I might just have been telling the truth. 'Cos he just looked back at her beautiful rear disappearing into the hotel and said, "Christ you lucky, lucky bastard; that is class!"

She, by the way, didn't even acknowledge me. And that, dear reader, was the story of my last night in that part of Asia. I will remember it forever.