This can be read and enjoyed as a stand-alone story, but deeper character depth and the effects of the plots, rivalries, twists and turns, of Asma's sexual journey, will be found by reading the entire series.
As the Vietnamese cosmetic plastic surgeon Tu Lan's tongue parted Asma's slit, the Pakistani refugee squirmed, sighed, and moaned. It was obvious to a watcher if one had been present, she loved it. Resisting was the farthest thing from her mind as she happily accepted her cunt lapping. Tu Lan's tongue found the hard nub of her clit and began to first tease it, then lick, and finally suck the erect throbbing love bud. While she held the swollen clit between her lips, she coated her index finger with Asma's pussy cream and circled the slick entrance to the 42-year-old Pakistani refugee's box. She eased a finger deep into her and worked it around before sliding it in and out of her fuck tunnel. Thrusting her finger deeply in, she felt the Pakistani's cunt muscles contract as the start of a powerful orgasm began.
Asma gasped out "Oh, God, I'm getting close. I'm going to cum. Ooohhh I'm cumiingggg."
Her hips jerked towards the ceiling and her thighs clamped Tu Lan's arm tightly as her whole body shook at the height of passion that racked her. It was an orgasm of real strength and length. Throughout it, the Vietnamese woman whom she had sexfought in a doubles match twenty days previously, held her with arms wrapped around her hips. Asma jerked and shook violently, and her cries of ecstasy reverberated around the room of the expensive Toorak mansion. Her cunt leaked love juice profusely as it pounded out its hunger and the free-flowing juices oozed from her slit to stain the satin bed sheet. As Asma fell back on the bed drained by her orgasm Tu Lan's relentless tongue started on her again.
One hour and three orgasms later the Vietnamese raised her attractive, cum covered face and size 8, 5ft 5, 34B 26 33 body from the spent Pakistani and asked, "Does that slut Ai make you cum like that? You know I'm going to challenge her solo and humiliate her?"
An hour before this Asma had knocked on the door of the same mansion where the sexfight doubles contest had been held. She had made her decision. Sure, there had been some tension between Ai and herself after the doubles contest as Ai had placed the blame for their defeat on Asma, despite it being her first sexfight. One which she had entered to support Ai and save her standing in the Vietnamese sexfighting community when Thuy, Ai's eldest daughter, was unable to compete. But then she thought of how the slightly older Vietnamese Ai had befriended her, protected her at Uni, and introduced and paid for her sexy dressing. Then there was the nude beauty contest, their lovemaking, the introduction to sexfighting and the fact there had been some reconciliation at their first meeting of the VU3XB club (Chp 8). The list went on and on. There was too much to give up.
So what if the Vietnamese Cosmetic surgeon had semi propositioned her during a break in her and Ai's doubles sexfight against Tu Lan and her younger sister Cuc and said to visit her anytime (see ch 5). She was going to tell that arrogant, wealthy, bitch just what she thought of her and how Ai's pussy was all she wanted.
The door opened. Tu Lan was poured into an Italian made Sorelle Fontana, skin-tight, spilt knee-length, black, silk crΓͺpe skirt and semi-transparent Adeline AndrΓ© blouse. Matching Gucci high heels and belt and long dangling diamond earrings completed her outfit. Asma thought Tu Lan looked slutty, but in an elegant, refined slut way, more so than Ai whom she thought had a "wanna be" expensive slut look, not the real thing. Even though this outfit was prΓͺt-Γ -porter and not custom it had still cost Hong Kong dollars 33,5000 ($4300 USA) when bought on one of her 6 monthly shopping visits there as she found they had a larger range in petite sizes than in Australia. Tu Lan was an enigma. She overcharged her Vietnamese clients like a bull, fiddled with the Government bulk billing rules, yet treated poor orphans from Vietnam for free. Although Asma did not recognise the expensive brand she took in the aroma of her Jean-Paul Gaultier Classique perfume which was produced by a division of Japan's Shiseido.
She looked 10 years younger than her 43 years and was tall for a Vietnamese. As Asma remembered from their doubles sexfight, despite her age, Tu Lan still had had firm 34B tits, a flat belly that emphasised her prominent shaven cunt and long, shapely legs. Mentally Asma compared her to her lover Ai and was forced to admit that Tu Lan was more eye-catching than the woman she had thought to be the most attractive woman she had seen.
Asma started on her prepared speech but was interrupted by Tu Lan stepping forward taking her into a tight embrace and invading her mouth with her sinuous, experienced tongue. It contacted and teased Asma's tongue. Instinctively Asma responded and the two tongues interacted, at first in a contest for superiority, then slowly caressing in an intimate dance. Asma noticed the pressure of the hugging decrease and looking down between their bodies she saw why. Tu Lan had withdrawn one arm from around Asma and opened her Sorelle Fontana skirt and was fondling her pussy mound which was exposed by her open butterfly thong. She slid two fingers into her wet pussy slit and went to work. Asma started shuddering with her own arousal as she gazed into the Vietnamese's dark eyes and her tongue slid deeper into Tu Lan's welcoming mouth. Thoughts of Ai and her prepared speech had vanished.
Tu Lan was moaning and becoming extremely aroused from her clit self-arousal, which turned Asma on even more. Her affection for Ai was gone, replaced by a lustful craving to touch Tu Lan's naked flesh and fuck. She raised her dress and began to rub her own pussy mound through her soaked, Ai purchased thong. Tu Lan's other hand unbuttoned Asma's blouse and cradled the tit flesh exposed by the skimpy quarter cup bra that Ai had purchased. Then her fingers found and caressed one of Asma's nipples into full hardness before switching to the other. It was just the start.
Back to the present and Tu Lan lay back on the bed and spread her legs. "Pleasure me", she said as she thrust her shaven cunt towards the light chocolate coloured, hawk-nosed, Pakistani refugee. "Prove to me you should be my doubles sexfighting partner."
Asma shuddered with anticipation at the thought. She had forgotten about the loyalty she owed to Ai and how she was going to say Ai's slit was all she needed, and eagerly went down on her knees to service the proffered love box.
Both women were drained, exhausted cum drenched zombies, but still, Asma's hands reached up to the firm tits of the 43-year-old Vietnamese plastic surgeon. How could this slut be a woman and Melbourne's leading plastic surgeon? Back home in Pakistan, only 35% of women were literate and even for the wealthy in the cities, women did not have a career. They played at it until they achieved their real job: marriage and subservience to the husband.
Soon she was clutching, kneading and squeezing the tit flesh, rolling the still hard nipples between her fingers, until finally, her warm, moist mouth latched onto one. Her tongue flicked and teased the erect bud until it quivered with arousal and her long, wet tongue trailed down the valley separating the firm tit mounds. Tu Lan's stomach muscles tensed as the tongue slithered between them, tormenting her satiny flesh, before flicking momentarily into her navel to taunt it while her hands stroked down along her ribs to her hips. Tu Lan groaned slightly and then involuntarily pushed her shaven cunt forward.
