Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

She felt the ramrod enter her straight and in command. She was but its subject, its slave, two inches, three inches, and more, please free me from this pleasure, and suddenly he was all the way in, who knew how many inches now, and she felt the bigness and tightness, and felt she might die. It was too big, was she to be slaughtered by this animal, this white bastard was going to kill her, and then she began to pump with him, for him, around him, tightening her wicked quim, stroking his back, biting his mouth till she tasted salty blood, kissing him so she couldn’t scream, her heart pounding as her orgasm came to her without warning.

Her round bottom, naked and squeezed and probed by the man’s rough hands, was whipping back and forth as her orgasm grew and spread like molten lava through the pit of her belly. She felt her juice flow down the slippery sides of her secret place, she moaned in ecstasy and passed out for many seconds.

She didn’t know and would never know how long she fainted because the bliss was so surreal, the delicious pain of it so maddening that she lost consciousness, and the man held her up, supported her with his wiry arms, one hand on her bare bottom, the other around her waist as spasm after spasm now hit him.

His froth flowed into her in creamy streaks, and because of their upright position and the laws of gravity, began to drip from her honey pot, overflowing from her forest of want, and streaks of it fell between their legs to land in drops onto the suitcase.

In their frenzied orbit of lust, she had stiffened at the feel of his hot come, her eyes rolling back to show the whites, and they hadn’t realized that the bus had stopped at a red light and was stuck in a traffic jam.

The interior of the bus was now bathed in patches of moving light, for they had entered the city. Their frantic coupling must end and the cruelty of having their pleasure so abruptly taken from them was acute, but his dong, sodden and still huge, slipped out of her while the walls of her pussy tried to hold and clutch the big guy on its way out, pathetically attempting to prevent its escape.

But all men’s cocks eventually must leave that sweet wound between the female’s legs … oh, would that they could remain in the moist, sumptuous havens of pussies forever, never having to face the harsh world again.

But such a mean trick had been played, so the young buck withdrew from Lisa, pulled his whanger out and wiped it with the same dank cloth he had earlier offered to dry her weeping eyes. He released her. She stepped off the suitcase, pulled up her panties, pushed down her skirt, and tugged her red blouse together where the buttons had been torn off. Rivulets of perspiration coursed down her face. They stood there, dazed. The rest of the journey passed quickly.

The bus stopped at the main terminal on Avenue De La Paz. They waited until the other passengers had alighted. Several of the country folk who had travelled with them gave the couple curious looks. Was it possible their ardor had been less furtive than they had presumed? It hardly mattered now. No one had raised an alarm. They calmly stepped from the bus and wandered onto the wide avenue, which was quiet at this time of night, save for the occasional passing vehicle. A light rain fell, creating haloes of light around the well-spaced street lamps. They stood on the sidewalk holding hands.

Clean Sex

Ricky Low, Singapore

Hey, Jeff, what’s the matter? Why don’t you just get a maid in here, clean things up, lah. You can afford it now, man!”

Oh, please. Whenever my friends-or wannabe friends-have suggested this, I have just sighed deeply, raised my eyebrows in a cynical arch, and slipped into my above-it-all smirk-a look that says, “You so don’t understand what it’s all about.” It’s a look I picked up while studying at Stanford. They’ve really perfected that dismissive look over there. I can’t claim that I’ve mastered it quite as well as they do it, but I’m not at all bad.

While studying over there, I also learned the importance of self-reliance.

For example, no real guy lets someone else do stupid household chores for him. Even when you get married, you work out a system, you share those duties. That’s what being a full, responsible adult in today’s world means: sharing all those stupid things that just have to be done. Having a maid is clearly a symptom of some weak strands in your moral fibre, as I have always lectured my lazy friends back here.

I’ve never told them the full story of why I feel so uneasy about having a maid. Some of it is that I am still embarrassed that my first erotic episodes involved the maid my family had when I was a boy. But there’s more to it than that.