Mellow Yellow

Chapter 25: Yellow pussy for breakfast - aged to perfection

Melinda, my wife, showered, dressed and ate her breakfast without saying one stinking little word to me. I couldn't decipher anything from her face either. That's how Vietnamese women are. When they're not happy, they clam up instead of pouting or throwing a tantrum the way white women do. I thought I made her a little bit happy with that rape fantasy last night. Obviously, I was wrong.

What could possibly make Melinda so unhappy, you ask? Here's the situation. We had two unwanted houseguests, our former AC/DC nanny Vanessa and Mrs. Nguyen, the ex-Saigon bar hostess who gave me my first piece of yellow snatch. Ever since I fucked Mrs. Nguyen, I haven't stuck my dick into anything that didn't have a "made in Asia" label. Obviously, Melinda wasn't too happy to see Mrs. Nguyen show up in close proximity to my dick.

As for me, I wasn't 100% sure about Melinda and Vanessa's "friendship" but I had to keep those two apart so the "friendship" didn't become a "relationship". The obvious solution to both problems involved getting Nguyen Hièp and Vanessa Reyes out of the house as fast as western and eastern face-saving permitted. With two dangerous houseguests of a typically horny couple, how does one say "ménage à quatre" in Vietnamese?

Melinda took Tanya and Damien and dropped them off at school on her way to work. Fortunata took our two youngest as well as Pablo to the pediatrician. Fortunata was adamant that her contract didn't specify that she had to be in two places at the same time, and "ordered" me to clean up the kitchen. I rinsed off one dish, which resulted in a high-pitched female scream from the downstairs bathroom. Something female and Asian was taking a shower.

About 20 minutes later, Mrs. Nguyen appeared at the top of the stairs to the kitchen. Her hair was wet and straggling over her ears. She had wrapped herself in one of those enormous bath sheets that only women use. She was covered tits to mid-thigh in damp terrycloth, wound up like a fajita. Her feet were shod in a pair of cheap rubber thong sandals. Not much chance to see if Nguyen Hièp's body was showing age. At least I knew who it was that I cold-water nailed in the shower.

Mrs. Nguyen was slight in stature and always smiling. You might mistake her for an innocent child if you didn't know better. In reality, Nguyen Hièp survivor skills and more finely-honed street smarts than a Saõ Paolo street urchin. She could be absolutely bitchy to other women and a predator for anything white with a dick hanging between his legs. Given what I knew about her and her employment résumé from Vietnam, I wasn't about to treat her like a child.

"You have one nice house, Ông Paul. Must to fix shower. Sometimes water too cold for Vietnamese lady. Maybe OK for white lady. Say, Chinese lady you marry make big money. You tell her get someone to fix shower. Maybe Chinese lady have big money but no good in bed or kitchen like Vietnamese lady I think. Ông Paul have something eat?"

I found some of Melinda's Vietnamese ox-tail soup in the refrigerator. I heated that up and boiled some of those big, round rice noodles Vietnamese people love. A pile of cilantro leaves and, voilà, no more complaints about Melinda's cooking. Mrs. Nguyen attacked her soup two-handed, chopsticks in one hand and a ceramic spoon in the other, while noisily slurping down the noodles. It wasn't pretty but Mrs. Nguyen definitely enjoyed her food. Maybe I have a mind that's much too imaginative but watching the round, thick, white rice noodles Mrs. Nguyen sucked into her mouth made me speculate about all the white dick that must have disappeared into that mouth over the years.

Under ordinary circumstances, Mrs. Nguyen could be a compulsive talker. Maybe compulsive talker isn't exactly the right description. To tell you the truth, Mrs. Nguyen constantly prattled in broken English. Listening to Mrs. Nguyen for any length of time was like listening to James Joyce Does?anang. Mrs. Nguyen's jumbled one-sided conversations were enough to give a white boy a headache. Thankfully, a mouth full of hot soup and noodles makes for some welcome peace and quiet. I took advantage of the break to give my unwanted houseguest the once over.

How old was she anyway? Mrs. Nguyen didn't have a grey hair in her head. That didn't prove anything. Maybe she had a talented hairdresser or a decent supply of black shoe polish. My eyes moved down to her tits but she was wrapped in too much terry cloth to judge the state of her tits. No, there weren't any clues on her chest. Even if Mrs. Nguyen did a Janice Jackson, it wouldn't do my research any good. Small-breasted women, and Vietnamese women in particular, definitely aren't world class in the hooter department and they never get saggy in their old age.

Vietnamese women are the same as any other women in at least one respect. You can't ask a Vietnamese woman directly how old she is. At least, you don't pose that question if you want to live to collect your Canada Pension Plan. However, you can ask a Vietnamese woman where she fits on the Chinese zodiac, the same way you can ask a white woman "What's your sign, baby?" Since the Chinese zodiac cycle repeats every twelve years, you can make more than an educated guess as to a woman's age. When Mrs. Nguyen put down her spoon and chopsticks, I asked in my most inscrutable western manner:

"Bà Nguyen, I was just wondering what your year was. I was born in the year of the Horse. What's your year?"

Mrs. Nguyen let go of the spoon and chopsticks and banged her palms together in opposite directions. You can take the hooker out of the bar but she's still a hooker.

"Ông Paul, I think you never ask. You so cold like ice last night. I Tiger. Tiger woman and Horse man make good fuck. And you real horse. Have banana big like horse. Ông Paul, all time I in Vancouver I miss you big, hard banana, hard like jade. Ðuc, him have little saiphun noodle between legs, not big banana like Ông Paul. Since Ðuc go away, I no have banana, not even small noodle. You must to help me one this time, Ông Paul. You stuff Nguyen Hièp full with big banana?"

Yeah, and Horses are also supposed to be compatible with Pigs. And here I had a real pig in Mrs. Nguyen. I did a quick calculation in my head. Nguyen Hièp was in her early 40's when I fucked her before I married Melinda. I met Melinda 12 years ago so Mrs. Nguyen must be in her 50's now. Geez, she was born in the Year of the Horse, 1948, and that made her 54 years old. Old enough to be a granny, no, old enough to be a great-granny, given how young Vietnamese girls marry. No way was my "big, hard banana" going to end up between the legs of a 54 year-old Tiger.

"Well, Bà Nguyen, I really don't think we should start anything again. Our affair was over long ago. Besides, Miss Reyes could wake up anytime or Fortunata could come back with the kids. I didn't mean to bring up the topics of our affair or your late husband. I think we should change the subject. Now, how do we locate an apartment for you where your Korean friends can't find you."

Mrs. Nguyen still had keen bar smarts. She sensed my ambiguity concerning her proposition. Quickly, she hit the right button to get a yes out of me. Mrs. Nguyen accidentally let the lower part of her towel fall to one side, exposing her pussy. Dammit, Mrs. Nguyen didn't have one grey hair in her bush either. Actually, she didn't have much hair of any colour on her bush. Her bare, tight yellow clam was there for all to see, as she cracked her thighs slightly for a white boy's benefit.

"You like eat Vietnamese pussy? No Vietnamese man ever eat my pussy, just Ông Paul. OK, maybe two, three other white guy in Saigon, no big deal. But Ông Paul eat my pussy best. Him have big banana and him tongue can kill Vietnamese lady. Vietnamese man no like eat pussy. We make deal, Ông Paul. You eat pussy and I let you stick banana in Nguyen Hièp."

I have no idea how Mrs. Nguyen knew how desperate I was for just a little taste of pussy on my tongue. Melinda works as a nursing supervisor. About a year ago, she went on a course to study "women's problems." Apparently, the fanatic teaching the course believed that, when women caught herpes, clamydia and scurvy, it was all the result of oral sex. Melinda fell for this line of thinking, big time. For the last year, I hadn't had a taste or a sniff of her pussy. Melinda was just as horny as ever but she never wanted tongue in the slot, just the banana.

If you're an accomplished, or even a beginner level, muff diver, you can imagine what a year without a whiff of the scent of cunt can do to a man. And here Mrs. Nguyen was serving up Vietnamese pussy for breakfast, the tastiest, best smelling snatch a man can lick. Nguyen Hièp had me right where she wanted me and she knew it. With that perpetual saintly Vietnamese smile on her face, she said:

"We go now someplace comfortable, OK? You no worry. I be quiet like small snake even you make me come. Oh, Ông Paul, you make me come so many time twelve year before. My pussy wet think of big banana, killer tongue, Ông Paul. I never forget how good you fuck me. We go upstairs? Then we no wake up Philippines lady?"

I was in a complete daze with visions of yellow pussy dancing in my head. Still, I kept my head and, instead of letting Mrs. Nguyen take me upstairs to the master bedroom, I pulled her into my home office and closed the door behind me. I lifted her tiny body up and sat her on my desk with her bum perched on the edge. I managed to mumble:

"Keep an eye on the monitor, Bà Nguyen. Just in case the Nanny comes home."

Mrs. Nguyen obviously had done a desk job before, probably for some government officials back in the days of Ngo?inh?iem. She undid the towel, tossed her sandals aside and leaned back, rearranging my paperwork slightly to make a little pillow for her head. Even at 54 years old, her tits didn't pancake on her chest. Mrs. Nguyen sported two nice rounded little hills with brown nipples like flagpoles, erect on the summit. I placed the skinny calves of her legs on my back to get her tight, bare little pussy into the right eating position.

Despite Mrs. Nguyen's shower, the smell of yellow pussy almost overpowered me. I suppose that, as women get older, their cunt juices get more concentrated. Young Vietnamese pussy has a unique smell, like expensive nu?c mam with an estrogen overtone. Mrs. Nguyen's well-aged pussy left behind any pretensions or nuances and made a direct all-out assault on my libido.

Vietnamese women don't have much bush hair and what constitutes their bush is soft and maybe a centimeter long. You'll never end up with short, curly hairs stuck between your teeth if you stick to licking Vietnamese pussy. Call Vietnamese pussy an acquired taste, like Vietnamese cooking, and as addictive as a good quality street drug.

The outer pussy lips on Vietnamese women are stiff and tight, great for a finger job. Mrs. Nguyen had them spread already so I skipped the finger work and poked my tongue between her inner lips. Mrs. Nguyen was already wet, as she predicted. I let the exquisite salty taste of pussy roll along my tongue before I drew my tongue up to just below Mrs. Nguyen's clit. Her inner lips formed a tight notch at her clit, pleasuring my tongue simultaneously as I pleasured Mrs. Nguyen. She let out a little sigh to let me know that I found the right spot. I hadn't had my tongue in Mrs. Nguyen's pussy for 12 years but you never forget your first taste of yellow pussy.

I picked up a little licking speed and Mrs. Nguyen's breathing and sighing picked up speed as well. She came quickly with a high-pitched scream, stifled so as not to wake up our other unwanted houseguest. You always wonder about the noises "professionals" make but Mrs. Nguyen was genuine this time. I was in heaven as the river of nu?c mam-flavoured cunt juice flowed over my tongue.

I pulled down my pants and dropped them on the floor. Mrs. Nguyen already had her legs in the air spread wide in anticipation of white banana. She put her legs on my shoulders, grabbed my dick and placed it right on target. I slid it in easily, just as I had twelve years before. Despite her slight stature, Mrs. Nguyen's cunt was big, wide and stretched. I never met a childless woman, white or yellow, with as loose a cunt as Mrs. Nguyen. I always wondered how and where such a tiny woman obtained such oversized genitals? Did she ever work in a donkey show in the Hué bars? I could speculate endlessly.

Mrs. Nguyen began her rehearsed hooker's spiel at the start of the lay: "You go slow OK, Ông Paul? You banana too big for small Vietnamese lady. I no want you hurt me. OOHH! I feel you tear me apart. You start hurt!" Etc. and etc.

Despite the contradiction between Mrs. Nguyen's patter and the reality of her cunt, she still had some points in her favour. Mrs. Nguyen retained those Asian stiff outer pussy lips that gripped the sides of my dick as it went in. The walls of her cunt had gotten a little thinner as she got older, emphasizing the feel of all her interior female parts. Fucking Mrs. Nguyen had its pleasures but I decided to play the hooker game and I stopped halfway in.

I leaned forward and started to caress Mrs. Nguyen on the hips, working my way up her tiny body. Mrs. Nguyen liked a gentle touch when the customer wasn't paying. I could rub Vietnamese skin even if what I was rubbing was an old Saigon whore who usually charged by the hour. Asian women's skin is so much smoother than a white woman's skin, probably because they have less body hair. And Mrs. Nguyen was still soft and silky smooth like Melinda, despite her rough life.

I worked my way up to Mrs. Nguyen's miniature titties, perfect in their scale and firmness. They weren't as firm as Melinda's tits but, hey, Melinda was at work, wasn't she? Slowly, I massaged around the base of each tit, teasing Mrs. Nguyen without touching her nipples. When I was younger, I went too fast for the nipples when I made love. Melinda taught me how Asian women liked to have their tits stroked. Maybe now she would give Melinda some credit for knowing something. I hoped that Mrs. Nguyen appreciated how much I had learned in twelve years. I guess so because she started to wag her head back and forth. Her thin lips parted and she began a long, high-pitch moan, so characteristic of the Asian woman.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH. AAAAIIIIYYYYEEE. Ông Paul no stop, PLEASE? Keep play with tits. Now, Now, Ông Paul. You give me all banana."

The hooker's game was over. I slid my dick in all the way, slamming my brown pubes against her bare yellow pussy lips. I pulled back and slammed again. Mrs. Nguyen brought her legs down around my waist, trying unsuccessfully to keep me all the way in. All the time, I kept her tits in my hands, massaging the whole thing with light pressure on her nipples.

As I banged Mrs. Nguyen increasingly harder, I sensed Mrs. Nguyen had developed a bit of tummy flab over twelve years. Ripples washed like waves up her body in step with the white balls colliding with yellow fanny. Let me be charitable. Mrs. Nguyen didn't have very serious flab, certainly not the kind of flab you'd see on a white woman of the same age.

Despite her loose cunt, Mrs. Nguyen felt great. She was well lubricated and she had a pronounced cervix that rubbed my dick. It was all I could do to keep from coming. I picked up some speed and the rippling waves on her stomach rolled up and down her chest, making her small breasts bob up ad down violently. Mrs. Nguyen's head rolled from side to side, sending some of my papers flying on the floor.

Mrs. Nguyen started to finally tighten up inside and give me some good feel. She was starting to bear down like the pro she was. I grabbed her legs and forced her knees up, bringing her cunt in line. I really started banging her beaver furiously, thrusting my dick as far into yellow pussy as I could. Mrs. Nguyen grimaced as she put her hand over her mouth and started biting a finger to stop from screaming. Was I killing the old lady in Death by Banana?

Wrong. It was just Mrs. Nguyen's usual process of enjoying white banana. She managed to keep her voice down to a wheezy little grunt as she came. In fact, the old lady couldn't stop coming and kept grunting and motioning with her free hand to keep pounding pussy.

I pulled open a drawer in my desk and offered Mrs. Nguyen a box of Kleenex. She grabbed a handful and stuffed them between her legs. She hopped off my desk as if to show me that she was still young and spy. As she wiped herself off, I swear that she hummed something that sounded like the old Kleenex radio commercial: "Soft, Strong, Pops up too!" That sounded like what was going on in my office this morning.

Mrs. Nguyen looked happy enough with the job I'd done on her, tossing the Kleenex into the wastebasket. She wrapped herself in the towel again, slid her feet into her sandals, gave me a kiss on my chest and said:

"Ông Paul, you give me such good fuck. You too good for Chinese lady. She too lucky she get big, hard banana all time. I no have banana like Ông Paul so many year. But I think Chinese lady good for you. Teach you go slow you fuck me."

With that, she quickly disappeared out the door. I could hear her run downstairs, her rubber sandals flap-flapping across the kitchen and on each stair. I pulled my pants up and put on my T-shirt. I hoped that all that noise didn't wake up Vanessa. I checked the spy camera that I hid in Vanessa's bed room but she was still curled up under the covers, working on her jet-lag. Then I checked the outside cameras just in case Fortunata came home early. Great, the coast seemed to be clear. I went back to the kitchen where a huge pile of breakfast dishes were still on the counter.

I added Mrs. Nguyen's dishes to the pile and started to load the dishwasher. I didn't notice that Mrs. Nguyen popped up from the basement until she hobbled over to me on high heels. I hoped that the spikes didn't cut the new lino I just put down. Even under her too-heavy makeup, I could see that her cheeks were still red and flushed from the fucking I gave her. She wore a tight, short leather skirt that was much too young for a 54 year-old woman. Mrs. Nguyen resembled nothing more than, well, an old hooker heading out for business.

"I go downtown now. Me have good friend who run

bi-da

(Vietnamese billiards) parlour. She owe me big money. I get money, maybe I find place. You promise come visit my place and I play you banana."

I didn't ask what kind of a transaction that money came from. The criminal possibilities were endless. I didn't promise anything by way of bananas but I wished the old lady luck as I bent over to kiss her cheek. She wrapped her arms around my neck and planted a big kiss on my lips. She forced her tongue into my mouth, smearing lipstick over my face in the process. As Mrs. Nguyen walked out the door, she was swinging her ass proudly from side to side.

Now, I felt dirty in both the physical and the moral sense. I looked at the breakfast dishes and decided that, between the dishes, and me I was dirtier. I closed the dishwasher and went upstairs to take a shower and clean up before Melinda or Fortunata got back.

(To be continued)