Nguyet gave little snorts high up in her nasal passages as I licked and slurped her overflowing cunt juice. I could feel her muscles tightening and her body shaking as her passion rose past breaking point. She moaned loudly as she lifted her pussy from my face. I knew this time it was going to be a screaming cum. Placing my hands around her thighs I pulled her gash back to my tongue and licked from the back of her pussy along her slit to her clit. As she was astride my face facing my feet, I could just see out of the corner of my eyes, that her toes curled as she moaned and pressed her pussy down even harder onto my face.
I smashed my mouth into the bubbling wetness of the squirming Vietnamese woman's cunt, smearing it over my mouth. The sex juices poured out of her box and covered my face as my tongue licked frantically at her shaven slit. I could taste her sex, and my cock jerked in response as I dug my hands into the 41-year-old's arsecheeks. My tongue plunged in as deep as it could reach before I thrashed it about inside the writhing woman's sex cave, sucking on its exterior with my wet lips.
With a sob of anticipation, Nguyet pulled at her cunt, opening her long inner outer lips, and then placing them over my sucking mouth. My tongue explored deeply, as my upper lip worked her throbbing clit. I continued eating her wet cunt, bringing her from pre-orgasm to higher pre-orgasm. She spasmed in short sharp jerks against my face, whimpering short, little, "Oh, oh, oh, oooohhh," sounds.
Two minutes before I had been slowly and gently eating her as she spoke to my Shanghai-born wife, Zi Yilin, trying to organise a sexfight with her. Finally, Nguyet's threats of shaming Zi Yilin succeeded and my wife consented to the contest. Nguyet threw the phone away in excitement and went into sex overdrive. I continued to eat her out and she spread her legs wider to receive more. I felt her flesh quiver, her clit pulse as her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began getting off hard.
"Ooooh, darling," she wailed as she came, unable to control her shuddering and writhing body "That's great, baby! Ohhh, darling, baby, honey. Suck it for me. Suck my pussy, Greg. Ahhhh, so good, darling. Eat my cunt. Suck my pussy! Oh, yes, yes! Tonguefuck my wet cunt. You have betrayed your wife for me. Now I will beat the bitch in a sex fight. She fell forward onto me and her mouth searched for my waiting hard cock."
It had started a couple of months before. My 44-year-old wife, the Shanghai-born Zi Yilin, was having her version of a Tupperware party: a lingerie auction and I was performing my role as auctioneer. I was interested as well because all the lingerie items were my knockoffs of top European brands. Not your AliExpress knockoffs either. I used A-grade materials and made use of all those older Vietnamese women in Melbourne who had kept their Juki industrial sewing machines. Unlike when they first arrived as refugees, I paid good cash wages, but there was no payroll tax, no income tax, and no workcover payments for me so I still made big profits. Identical quality packaging meant it was as good as the original at a highish but not exorbitant price like the real thing.
Zi Yilin was 5 ft 2, 107 pounds and she had a 34B 27 33, big nippled body accompanied by an attractive face and long silky jet black hair both on her head and above her long-lipped cunt. She was born in Shanghai, but her father had been stationed in Hanoi as an advisor to North Vietnam in the Vietnam War and remained there for a few years until expelled at the start of the Sino-Vietnamese Border Wars in 1979. She had lived there from the age of 9 to 15, long enough to become fluent in Vietnamese and understand their culture.
As I tried to raise the bids the women were smiling at my book perfect, but pronunciation mangled, Vietnamese and Mandarin. God, I hate toned languages like Vietnamese and Mandarin where, for example, in Vietnamese "ba" can mean father, three or grandmother depending on the tone or pitch used and Mandarin is similar though it does have fewer tones. To an Aussie brought up on nasal, flat tones I could not hear the difference in the tones.
Anyway, as usual, I cast my eyes over the assembled group of Vietnamese and Vietnamese-born Chinese and, for the most part, saw the familiar faces present at most functions. There were a few newcomers, friends of friends and I sized them up. Two had VERY, VERY expensive jewellery and I dismissed them out of hand. They had too much to lose. Another was too talkative and self-centred; another just gave out bad vibes.
That left only one. I estimated her to be in her late 30s, though she could be older: with Asians, it's hard to tell. She was about 5 ft 4, a little taller than Zi Yilin and about the same weight at 105 pounds and probably 32A 26 32. A nice face with medium-length black hair, but unlike most there she was dressed in non-designer, cheap Kmart clothing. Subtle enquiries established her name was Nguyet and that she lived in the Government Housing flats in Flemington and was divorced. Her husband had arrived alone as a boat refugee in the 80s and, like many who had left their family back in Vietnam, hitched up with a new Vietnamese woman here in Australia. Ten years later he sponsored Nguyet here with their two children so they, i.e. the children, could have a better life in the land of plenty, Australia. There was no place in the family setup for Nguyet but she had to come otherwise the Government rules decreed the children could not be brought here. She was perfect for my purposes. Single and poor.
I switched to autopilot.
STEP ONE for a relationship with Vietnamese women. Don't ogle or leer crudely but let them know you are observing them. So, despite there being more attractive, younger women there, a few times Nguyet caught me window shopping at her and, as would be the case with 98% of Vietnamese women, she preened: sitting so that her dress rose higher above her knees, sucked her gut in, and disappeared to the bathroom and returned with her make-up refreshed, accidentally looking round the room to see if I was noticing her.
Step one achieved.
STEP TWO for a relationship with Vietnamese women. Make them feel different, important and better than the others. As luck would have it, within her hearing another Vietnamese woman, Hanh, approached and asked if I could tutor her in English. I replied that I was sorry but I was too busy, and even though she persisted in offering above-normal payments and plying on the charm and even sexual innuendo I kept saying, "Sorry, no."
About 15 minutes later I managed to talk to Nguyet and, after some small chitchat, I complimented her on how different she was from the normal short-legged Vietnamese, that her English was so well pronounced for a 30-year-old. She demurred saying there were so many attractive young Vietnamese there, her English was poor and that she was not 30, but 41. But her heart was not in her denials. As part of the SYSTEM I had applied the UNDERLYING RULE: Don't say the unbelievable.
E.g. I had been mainly mentioning Nguyet's long legs, by far her best attribute which she would find believable, and I couldn't say her English was excellent, because it wasn't, but had complimented her on her pronunciation. How she didn't sound like a Vietnamese speaking English with their characteristic sounds and joked about my poor Vietnamese and she replied she could understand it easily. Then I threw out the bait. I said if she was interested, I could tutor her in English.
Her eyes gave her away. I knew instantly she had heard me refuse Hanh wanting me to tutor her son and I was offering her that chance, and that yes, she wanted lessons. "I'd love that but can't afford it," she said
"God, I don't want money. I like to help anyone who wants to really learn and not just have me do their homework and assignments like Hanh, and talking to you I can see you really want to improve your English. Plus, your personality would make it enjoyable compared to Hanh."
"I really want it," she said, "but it's not right you do it for nothing."
