The Old Vacant Hotel Ch. 26

The Old Vacant Hotel

Chapter 26 - Paying Homage to our first Months

Dear Douglas,

Sally has been offered a good position in Saigon, and we also need to talk about the farewell party for your beloved Mira. Let's scrap the whole role-play stuff this week and just meet as lovers, like we did so many times over the years. I'd love to meet you at a café but, if we directly met at the guesthouse, we would have more to time to... you know...

Your loving Nguyet

The missing phrase was perhaps pee onto each other or indulge in our favorite pastime, which would have amounted to the same. As much as I had been looking forward to meeting my muse Nguyet again in her role as First Lieutenant Kim, she was right: Mira was about to leave our small town for good, and Nguyet herself wanted a baby with her new husband, Hiroshi, so that our sexcapades would have to find an end, anyway.

And, yes again, as much as I liked the idea of kicking things off at our favorite coffee shop, where the cute little waitress would enthrall and entice me again: at the older charming guesthouse, we could undress for lunch, and then slowly slide and drift into raucous Golden Showers, before we would do it, possibly twice. Most likely, also without surprise visits.

And so, we agreed to see each other at eleven-thirty at the small hotel, where we had met the previous two times. Nguyet was already waiting, again sitting on her older Honda, reading something on her phone. This time, she was wearing her lovely dusky-pink dress, which I had seen for the very first time at Robert's wedding, about seven years back.

After praising her sartorial choice in a message a few days thereafter, back then, Nguyet asked me to go for coffee, after which she took me to her home for the first time ever, as her parents were attending a wedding in Quy Nhon, about eighty miles away - a situation which she had deemed perfect to finally get deflowered at the tender age of 29.

After that pivotal encounter, our affair had taken off and delightfully spiraled out of hand. Lately, I had been thinking about reenacting said sweet hour, but the coffee house wasn't there anymore: after lengthy renovations, it had reopened briefly but now, it lay demolished, as I noticed during a recent drive through the neighborhood.

"So good to see you, Douglas," Nguyet beamed, before she hopped off her scooter and then smoothed down the skirt of her beautiful classy dress, which had a silverish floral pattern.

Nguyet handed me the bags with the food and drinks, so that she could unlock the door, after which we sauntered through the relatively dark, cool lobby, toward the stairs on the left. Deliberately, I let her walk in front of me to be able to admire the movements of her cute little butt, but then asked myself if the dress wasn't a tad too warm for such a hot June day.

Well, petite Vietnamese women, such as Nguyet, liked it warm, even in summer. They often wore long-sleeved clothes when the temperatures were above 90 degrees Fahrenheit, which was also a result of their wish to keep their skin pale and light. And Nguyet would undress in fifteen minutes - which she knew as well - so that I could bang her, as Mira had put it a couple of times recently, in her role as Nguyet's stepdaughter, Sachiko.

"I've bought sashimi," Nguyet mentioned in passing, as she was putting the small package in the fridge, before she placed ice cubes in our glasses and poured some juice again.

The fresh tuna was another homage to our early days as lovers, and we both knew what was to ensue after or during lunch.

"Thanks for digging up the dress," I murmured, in turn.

Nguyet's mother earned her keep as a seamstress, which had the side effect that her only daughter was always exceedingly well dressed. A tad conservative, yes, but also rather spiffy. As neat as a pin.

Speaking of: Nguyet had pinned her hair up on the back of her head, while her bangs were freshly cut, so that the outer ones, coming down from her temples, framed her stunning diamond-shaped face with its high cheekbones perfectly.

After she had transferred our lunch: fried glass noodles with beef and green beans - onto an oval plate, she asked if I remembered when exactly she had been wearing said dress on one of our dates:

"Well, that was our third, I think. When we went back to the café, and then to your house, so that I could meet your mom."

Who had gotten wind of our liaison but offered that we could amuse ourselves at their house, once a month, as long as Nguyet's dad wasn't there, so that we wouldn't be seen at seedy small hotels around town.

"Yes. And do you remember what we did?" Nguyet continued her charming interrogation.

"After talking to your mom, we went upstairs to your room briefly... where you kneeled down on your bed to blow me... still wearing the dress."

"Which you cheekily folded up onto my back, so that you could push my panties down and fondle my pussy..." Nguyet giggled, clearly relieved that she had decided, seven years earlier, to lose her virginity with me, after waiting for Mister Right for way too long.

Which had set her onto a liberating path and a much freer, more self-determined life in general.

"I think you were ovulating that day. That's why we didn't do it?" I inquired, before I got myself some more glass noodles with beef, which were excellent.

"Yeah, that was the first time I swallowed," my muse confirmed, nodding proudly, which prompted my brain to deliver some images from said afternoon:

With her head cocked sideways, Nguyet was sucking my cock, while - to my left - her light naked girlish bottom had been swaying. My fingers had combed the hair in her butt crack to the sides, before one of them entered her wet, sticky sheath. As her mother had been so generous, we didn't want to abuse her hospitality and go all out that afternoon.

Neither of us had said anything for a minute, here in the alcove on the second floor, while I had been indulging in reminiscences but now, Nguyet surprisingly got up and reached under her dress to remove her panties. Which was an incredibly powerful and efficacious gesture again, of course.

She had a mischievous smile on her lips, as she was stepping around the small table to drop her undies on the third chair on the other side, and I was already exceedingly glad that I had caught a fleeting glimpse of her large, dense, pitch-black bush in the process. Initially, it had looked like she wanted to drape her soft white underwear on the back of the chair, but now the pair was on the seat, hidden from our eyes.

Before Nguyet stepped back to her chair here, next to me, she adjusted the window, as it had the tendency to close itself, which offered me a chance to marvel once again at this well-dressed graceful creature - who was already naked under her skirt.

Yes, it was true: there was nothing hotter than seeing both sides of a woman - the cultured, cultivated and the natural - at once, which she would arrange in a minute; perhaps, by pulling her skirt back to let me admire the furry black animal between her light small legs. Of course, my cock had just begun to twitch, and I couldn't wait for the story to unfold.

I still sensed, however, that it would have been too early for me to relieve myself of my clothes. Or, maybe not?! Anyway, I decided to slow things down a bit and marveled at her small heaving bosom, instead.

But I couldn't wait to roll the fresh tuna between her sticky labia, which wasn't just a wonderfully lewd, sensual gesture: No, I also liked the sourish-salty taste, which went well with the fresh meat - whose texture bafflingly resembled that of the folds inside Nguyet's vaginal vestibule.

"Now, what plans does Mira have for her farewell party?" I asked, as I didn't want to discuss such important matters during or after intercourse: "Or will it be a party for both, Mira and Sally, together?" I spontaneously conceived another idea.

"Well, Quynh is in Saigon, trying to find an apartment. She'll be back next week. Anyway, Mira wants to have two parties, actually: a small and a really big one."

Sally's real name was Quynh.

"Has Mira told you already who she wants to be there? Let's start with the smaller one of the two parties..."

"Hanh, of course. Perhaps Ly, too. And Quynh, sure. But with her, we don't know when she's moving to Saigon... Hoang and Vu, perhaps. And, of course, Charlie would be great, but he's in Saigon, too."

Back when he was eighteen, Charlie had developed a huge crush on his mother's best friend, Yen, who was like an aunt to him. Troubled by the incest taboo and eager to not wreck her friendship with Charlie's mom, Yen had tossed him in Nguyet's lap, so to speak, so that someone in our orgy posse could deflower the - back then - hapless chap.

Mira stepped up to the task, as she and Charlie clicked very well from the get-go but then, he had shied away from her pussy with the large protruding clit, which resembled a small penis. That scene had happened in the model home where Nguyet worked, but her petite cute colleague Thuy picked up the slack and saved the day.

"But doesn't Sawan live in Da Nang? If Charlie comes up from Saigon to see her, he could arrange for a quick trip here to be at the party..."

Sawan was Charlie's ladyboy-girlfriend from Laos, and our small, nondescript town was only two hours from Da Nang by train or motorcycle.

"I think Sawan goes to Saigon if they want to see each other, but maybe, yeah..."

Since the plate of food was empty by now, Nguyet got up again to put it in the sink, where she let water run over the dishes to prevent an invasion of ants. Since she had gotten up, she also put fresh ice in our glasses, before she disappeared in the adjacent room once more, presumably to fetch half a dozen of those old towels that we would need soon.

Yes, she was carrying eight or ten of those when she returned; one of which she instantly placed on her seat, so that her naked butt wouldn't stick to the vinyl of the chair. Before she would sit down again, she lifted up her dress in the back, but then she settled in her chair once more.

Her dress was still covering her lap, which I liked. As obvious as it was what we would do next: her reluctance to go all out caused the air around us to sizzle and seethe. Her mischievous grin only added to her allure

"You'll get the tuna, whenever you're ready," she nodded toward the fridge with her chin.

"Yeah, let's wait ten minutes... and plan the parties," I suggested, in turn.

To allow the sensual tension to build up a bit more. Which Nguyet seemed to find sufficient already, as she suddenly had a fairly bold request:

"Douglas, but get your thing out, in the meantime. Just like you enjoy me in a dress or skirt with no panties, I like looking at your cock when you're fully dressed... that's so... so unusual," she was searching for words to express what turned her on.

"Yes, indeed... normally, people don't do that," I concurred, while I was taking my underpants off, standing behind her back.

After I had thrown my underwear on the third chair, I put my pants back on, went to the fridge to get the sashimi, and then got my cock and balls out before I sat down again, so that my muse could see my manhood well.

After taking a good look at my half-stiff throbbing shaft, Nguyet nonchalantly took her hair pin out to shake her head and fluff her hair with her fingers, after which she put the white-and-purple pin neatly back. With her small bosom still heaving under the lovely dress, she was now looking at me with her marvelously dark almond eyes:

"It would also be neat if you could pee right now... but you don't have other clothes here," she sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"Well, in a minute, I'll undress completely... and then, I could, I mean..." I replied, with my gaze completely fixated on her harmonious modest chest.

In turn, my muse opened the package on the table, suggesting we just use our fingers to eat, as the chopsticks were already back in the sink. To underscore what she had in mind, Nguyet now placed her right naked foot on the seat of her chair and pulled her dress back, exposing her hairy pussy and the lower half of her dense, pitch-black bush.

"Help yourself!" she invited me, with disarming nonchalance, to take a morsel of fresh tuna and rub it between her labia to coat it with the most divine juices I knew.

"Douglas, when did we do that first? Was that directly after you met my mother, the next time, or later?" Nguyet asked, before she lasciviously combed her pubic hair to the sides and pulled up her skirt some more.

"I think that was later, maybe after six months or so," I shrugged shoulders: "After I met your mom, we had our small-hotel phase..." I panted back, with my eyes traveling down from her bosom to her impressive nano-black, large bush.

"Jesus, Nguyet..." I sighed: "You... dazzlingly beautiful woman, in your dress, with your dark furry animal between your light little legs..." I commented with the first half-matchbox-sized piece of cold fresh tuna between my fingers.

Absentmindedly, I rubbed the dark-mauve flesh between hers, which caused some quiet smacking, almost like during intercourse.

"Sometimes, I think of the story when your mother found your cum-soaked panties in the hamper and thought it was some malign discharge. That's still the coolest," I chuckled, as I was chewing the treat now.

The second morsel I didn't really chew but just pressed against my palate with my tongue, instead, to see if it wouldn't just dissolve by itself. When I had removed it from my muse's snatch, a long viscous thread had followed, which only broke up after it reached ten or twelve inches of length.

For some reason, Nguyet appeared pensive, all of a sudden; perhaps, she was rummaging through her memories to dig up more rousing ribald details:

"But the first girl who ever peed on you was Tuyet, huh?" Nguyet surprisingly inquired now.

"Yes, the day before she moved to Saigon... that was on the old bamboo bed at that house with the blue shutters, in the countryside. I just didn't want her to leave, as she was sitting on my chest, stark naked. With her little pink pussy open. So, she slid closer and peed into my mouth," I told my muse, feeling melancholic all of a sudden.

Tuyet was ten years younger than Nguyet and super skinny and had an awesome personality. She was as adventurous as Mira, but also incredibly kind and sensitive. Tuyet was everything.

"Oh, Ben," Nguyet sighed, for some reason, digging up the alias I adopted when Douglas had proven too difficult to pronounce for most of the Vietnamese I met.

And Doug sounded too much like duck, which would prompt awkward and only mildly funny conversations. In the meantime, Nguyet had combed her pubic hair to the sides again, so that I saw the drop-shaped moist entrance of her sheath and the tender dark flesh below her clit, including the opening of her heavenly urethra.

Somehow, it seemed imminent that she would pee, and so, I got up to completely relieve myself of my clothes, which I then placed on the third chair across the table to protect them from Nguyet's living-room fountain. Seeing her white undies again was tempting, but I refrained from sniffing them, as the original was already exposed under her mauve dress.

Instead, I sat back down and then fed Nguyet a small piece of tuna, which I had dunked in her divine juices, but she didn't like it as much as I did. She made a face and then took another piece of sashimi without any sauce, before she carefully prepared another to feed it back to me.

I snapped at the treat like some hungry circus animal, but then she asked the obvious question:

"Ben, when did we pee during sex for the very first time?"

"I think it took us more than a year to do that, but we sometimes peed in the shower together. And once, I watched you in your blue business suit, with your pantyhose down on your thighs."

As enthralled as I was, I caught myself smiling and asked her if she couldn't piss on me in her business suit again, but this time, wearing black lacy stockings. And a garter belt, perhaps:

"That would be the capstone of our relationship."

"I'll do that, Ben. But right now, in summer, it's a bit too warm for stockings," she promised.

In the meantime, we had slid our chairs closer to each other, but I still needed to bend forward a bit to rub yet another piece of fresh tuna between her sticky, wet labia.

"Now that you've told me what your ultimate wish is: Do you know what Hiroshi wants to do?!" she asked me rhetorically: "I don't know how to put it; I mean, it's really outrageous."

"Oh, I know he has wacky fantasies," I tried to pave the way for Nguyet's confession, and when she still hesitated, I placed my thick noodle onto her left knee.

Nguyet looked at the strange naked animal on her skin, before she touched it tenderly, like an unusual pet. To aid her caresses, she moved her chair another two inches closer, so that her left thigh was completely between my legs. She lifted my cock up, pushed the foreskin back, twiddled and squeezed my flesh playfully - all the while looking absorbed in her thoughts and our memories.

On the spur of the moment, I asked Nguyet if she still had some extra clothes here, at the guesthouse. After she had nodded, I simply let go, assuming that was what she wanted the most. After all, she had said something along those lines earlier, and that was also what we had come here today.

As quiet as it was in the alcove, we could not only see the tepid liquid running along her light thigh, but also hear it. Like in slow motion, we watched my piss filling up her bush, before her pussy began to glisten and the first few drops were hitting the floor. As dense as her bush was, it seemed to be able to contain the bulk of the lukewarm liquid, swelling like a black sponge.

After about ten or fifteen seconds, though, Nguyet threw her head back and let out a blood-curdling scream up at the ceiling, before she looked down on herself again to watch the spectacle.

"Wow, B-Ben! Ha!" Nguyet almost screamed once more, while her whole body under her mauve dress appeared to be trembling, as if she was experiencing a medium-sized orgasm.

Meanwhile, she had thrown her head back again and was now panting up toward the ceiling, while I was incredibly glad that I didn't have to dissolve our rousing round for my relief. Just like back on that fateful day with ultra-slender nineteen-year-old Tuyet.

When I was done, Nguyet quickly reached for two towels from the stack, which she then unfolded and dropped onto the floor between our chairs. With one foot on them, she wiped the tiles dry, murmuring I need to go, too. For some reason, I was glad that her dress still seemed more or less unaffected, and when she was done wiping, Nguyet sat down on her chair again, after she had changed the towel on the seat:

"You could stand over my cock... and pee. Or sit on my lap. To extinguish the fire," I offered, as I loved the warm sensation of fresh piss on my manhood.

Especially hers. Or Mira's.

"I think it's even hotter if you're looking me in the eye," Nguyet chuckled impishly, also blushing nicely, as she was in the process of placing both of her elegant little feet onto the seat of her chair, before she reached under and around her light little thighs to pull her pussy open.

As far as possible. In her mauve dress, panting heavily. As open as her snatch was, the drops quickly formed a formidable jet, which now was hitting the floor between my feet. Our eyes were tracing the cheeky arch, which I felt was the ultimate kick: the gorgeous MILF, the cultivated real-estate broker, in her beautiful dress, but without panties.

With her dripping-wet pitch-black, dense bush heaving above the epicenter of the action.

"Hey, Ben: let's take a shower," she stated the obvious, when the arch had petered out.

Nguyet had sounded exhausted, which was perhaps due to the heat and the humidity. Or the mini-orgasm she had just experienced. Anyway, we got up, wiped the floor once more, and while Nguyet was taking her dress off, I snatched the last piece of tuna, which wouldn't taste good later.

No, I didn't rub it in her piss, although I thought about it. Still chewing, I took her hand to lead her diagonally across the hall to the room in which our debauchery usually took place. In the bathroom, we turned on the water, but then her boobs caught my attention. I loved how swollen they looked, although we had barely touched each other during the last hour.

Back in the room, Nguyet kneeled on the foot end of the bed, just like she had seven years back, on the day I had met her mother. Eagerly, she opened her mouth to welcome my cock and, while she was busy gliding up and down my half-erect shaft, I fondled the juicy hairy peach below her butt hole and perineum.

Playfully, I combed her ample hair to the sides, before I entered her sheath with my middle finger. Once again. Oh, yes: she was dripping wet inside, ready to receive my cock, but then she let my dick snap out of her mouth, as if she wanted to talk some more. Did she want to take another trip down Memory Lane? Or plan the farewell parties a bit more?

To combine our intercourse with the talking, perhaps, Nguyet asked me to lie down on my back, so that she could ride me. Oh, no, she actually kneeled over my head, facing my feet, so that I could lick the superb flesh between her legs, while she would continue blowing me.

"I'm supposed to get my period tomorrow. Let me know if it starts today," she chuckled nonchalantly, perhaps hoping that I would lick her, nonetheless.

Which I might have done. But there wasn't any sign of her menstruation yet. Just the savory strong scent that I loved so much. As enamored as I was with her treasure, I closed my eyes to poke her pussy entrance with my tongue, before I began to lick upward, probing her leathery deep dark butthole in the process.

Since Nguyet was so much shorter than I was, however, it proved difficult to have it both: her blowing and my anus treatment. And so, I leaned back a bit, licked my fingers and then probed her sphincter with my fingertips, wondering if we couldn't try backdoor sex. When her anus even opened up, I pushed the upper digit of my finger in, but then she cautioned me:

"Another time, Ben," Nguyet said: "Today, I need your thing in my pussy. Nice and long and slow," she eventually chuckled.

To underscore her desire, she turned over my midsection, so that she was now facing my face, and then used one hand to position my throbbing knob where she wanted and needed it. Almost effortlessly, my purple tip slid between her black beveled nether lips - and, after she had gyrated and bobbed her girlish little ass - her hips began to thrust.

I had a hunch that I wouldn't last long enough for a slow and long fuck, but that didn't seem to matter. Nguyet was on fire, and we quickly found our rhythm, after she had placed her hands onto my chest to support her nimble, light upper body. When I noticed that her hair pin was about to fall off, I tenderly removed it; just like during the very first time we had sex, ever.

If my memory served me right. To prolong our rousing loin twirl, Nguyet stopped her hip movements after maybe two minutes and lay down on me, like on a large soft couch. For some strange reason, it felt as if my cock kept swelling inside her sheath, which prompted me to thrust languidly from below but then, I finally asked her what exactly her husband wanted:

"What's the outrageous deed that Hiroshi wants to commit?"

"Ben, he wants to watch how I pee on you. And you on me. Ideally, together. At the same time. You know, you lick me, like you did ten minutes ago, and then I pee on your face, while I'm playing with your cock and then you pee, too," she chuckled quietly, looking slightly embarrassed and sheepish.

"Knowing him, though, Hiroshi doesn't just want to sit on the bed and watch..." I surmised.

"No, ideally, he's banging another woman, while we... I guess from behind, while she is kneeling in front of him. So that they both can watch us," Nguyet swallowed with her mouth closed, after she had finished sketching the utterly lewd scene.

"Well, who would want to get banged by Hiroshi, while the two of us are peeing onto each other?!" I chortled: "As far as I know, Mira doesn't like him that much and, frankly, I wouldn't want that..."

"What do you mean?! The peeing?" Nguyet sounded concerned.

"No, Hiroshi banging Mira."

"Oh. Yeah. I understand."

"You peeing on me is fine," I kept going, with my cock still fermenting inside Nguyet's sheath: "No, that's great. And sure, if it turns him on, Hiroshi can watch. And bang another woman, while doing so."

"But Sally's in Saigon," Nguyet reminded me: "She kinda has the hots for him. And now that she's leaving the company, she could... she would," Nguyet laughed.

"Trinh, the tiny waitress from our coffee shop?"

"Her name's Trang, Ben," Nguyet giggled, before she began to bob her ass again.

Kneading her small butt cheeks, as she was thrusting, I told Nguyet semi-facetiously that I would rather want Trang to pee on me. She was tiny and as cute as a button. And barely twenty years old. Trang's skin was incredibly smooth, while her snatch and urine weren't milder, not as savory as my muse's.

Nguyet ignored my counterproposal and reminded me that Quyen, the young lady from the International School was another option, perhaps:

"She has a boyfriend, as far as I know, but she's told me that she wants to experience some wild things before she gets married and has a baby. And she also likes Hiroshi..."

Quyen had wanted to meet for coffee after I had turned down a decent job offer from her school. Which had led us all the way up to the roof of the old vacant hotel, where she had even offered herself, since she found the location so cool.

"Oh, yes, Quyen!" I thus exclaimed: "I know she really likes Hiroshi. But frankly, I would want her to kneel over me and piss, too, while she is blowing me."

Nguyet stroked my hair and forehead as if I was a boy recovering from a long severe illness but then focused again on polishing my cock with her divine sheath. Like she wanted to milk me.

"Or Ly?" I took another detour, since I knew that Hiroshi and Ly really had the hots for each other.

Perhaps even more so than Quyen and him.

"Ly is seven months pregnant," Nguyet giggled, with sparkling eyes.

"I know. She must be incredibly horny," I countered.

"Ok, I'll ask Ly. And Quyen, too. Let's wait and see what they say..."

But now, we had enough of words. Nguyet closed her eyes and propped her upper body back up onto her outstretched arms, with her elegant small hands again on my solar plexus. Appearing to be in trance, she was enjoying the oceanic feeling of bliss that perhaps only intercourse provides.

Naturally, Nguyet also anticipated the cool gooey load that would very soon grace her mauve cervix; perhaps she would think, during my ejaculation, of the scene in the alcove and imagine that I was peeing inside her. And experience a massive orgasm.

"Ben, you're right, though: we should try anal once more, soon..." Nguyet told me, before she suggested to have the larger farewell party at the thermal springs, west of town:

"The warm water always softens my sphincter nicely," she added, smiling impishly again: "And maybe, we could also invite people Mira doesn't know."

This all sounded as if Mira and Nguyet had fixed pretty much everything already.

"Who. doesn't. Mira. know?!" I panted, thrusting into my muse's petite torso from below.

"Nga, for instance!" Nguyet squealed, right when the big discharge began.

Aaaaargh! we both hollered, as Nguyet tossed her beautiful diamond-shaped head back again to enjoy the quivering shivers that were running through her body, along which she pressed her midsection onto mine, as if she wanted to make sure to get my ejaculating glans as close as possible to her cervix.

As hot as that little thing must have been, I cooled it with all my might: twitching spasmodically, I shot flake after flake up inside her, while I was kneading her girlish little ass cheeks some more. Between which I needed to shove my cock again soon.

Panting and trembling, we rested together for only God knows how long, until Nguyet whispered that she had to leave soon. And so, we got up, took off the bedsheets, and went into the bathroom once more, where I asked her if she didn't want to do a little trial run for the debauchery with Hiroshi:

"But then, we have to put towels on the bed and take a third shower," she reminded me: "C'mon, just put your hand here," she offered, instead.

And so, I placed my fingers under her micturating pussy, and she asked if I really wanted to rehearse the peeing together:

"No, I don't think we need to practice. I wanna do that with you. But yeah, see if you can get Quyen here or to the old hotel. I want to see her pussy again. It's more beautiful than her face," I added, truthfully.

"Oh, Ben!" Nguyet punched my upper arm with all her might: "Don't say that!" she admonished me charmingly, as we were drying ourselves outside, in the room.

"No, it's true. Don't you remember that strip of soft flesh - her inner lips - which one can always see between her outer labia, under her long dark hairs?"

Tsk-tsk, Nguyet was shaking her head, before she sent me off.