My first time with a TV
Once upon a time I was in Singapore and a group of us went out for a meal.
As you have probably seen on the holiday programmes on telly, the tropical
countries all seem to have a tradition of outdoor eating places. They are
open markets similar to the shopping markets here but the barrows are
equipped with earthenware charcoal braziers and a wok sits in the circular
top. They are very democratic with white tuans eating alongside the cleaning
ladies.
Singapore had two well known such markets, one by the harbour, the name of
the street I can't remember, the other more central to town in Bugis Street.
That's where we went. Picked out a likely stall, got some ice-cold Tiger
beers and ordered our first course. As the guys are cooking right in front
of you there is no menu; as you eat one course the next is cooking.
Soon the main reason for Bugis Street's fame arrived, the local "girls".
These are young Chinese TVs. Being slightly built and relatively free of
body hair unlike Europeans, they pass as girls very easily, even without
trying. When they add a slinky, silk cheongsam, split to the thigh, pile on
the make-up, the nails and high heels, WOW!
They are all on the game of course and parade up and down, stopping at each
table. The crowd having downed a few Tigers, is playful. You get the
picture. There you are sitting round a table trying to act macho, one of the
lads, and this gorgeous creature is rubbing her thigh up against your
shoulder. Neither of you is wearing much clothing, it's too hot, just thin
cotton or silk. You can smell the perfume. Dare you stroke her bum, that
very, very strokeable bum under just thin silk?
Sensing your embarrassment, she plays to the crowd and sidles down onto your
lap. You can feel it's a firm bum, much firmer than an English woman's. That
tells you it's a man but then again, young Chinese women are not so well
upholstered as Europeans. She wriggles and your prick responds, you can't help
it. She feels it and jumps up giggling and skips over to her friends. She chatters
away to them in Chinese looking back at you now and again with one hand coyly
over her mouth to hide the giggles. Oh that mouth, bright red lipstick: you'd get up
and kiss it but you are soooo embarrassed and the crowd is hooting with
laughter.
Ah well, after an hour or two the meal is over, you've all had one beer too
many and it's time for bed. The party breaks up and you head for the next
thoroughfare where the taxis are waiting. You climb in and start to say,
"Ayah Rajah Road, please driver".
He says (the song of all oriental taxi drivers), "You want nice girl, John?"
You can't get that young TV out of your head, or your trousers, so easily.
"Do you know any nice boys?"
"Chinese boy or Malay boy?", Now you hadn't thought that far ahead but she
sure looked Chinese. "Chinese boy, please."
Off goes the driver into the depths of town, across the Merdeka bridge into
an area of shanties stretching along the coast away from the harbour.
Eventually he swings into a garishly lit street where each veranda is
illuminated by lanterns and in the light of the lanterns you can see a group
of girls.
The little gaggle of glamorous figures around the taxi in front broke up as
I paid my driver and got out. The tallest of the group caught my eye, smiled
and came over. "Hallo John, you want good time?" I nodded and she turned and
led me onto the veranda and into the nearest building. I admired her figure
as she went up the steps. I could see she had very little on under the
figure-hugging silk dress. About a size 10, I guessed. It tightened across
her rear clinging to each perfect cheek in turn as she stepped up. I expected her to
hitch up her skirt but the slit at the side allowed her easy movement. The
flash of thigh drew my eyes to the finely shaped legs, the calves
emphasised by the effect of the high heels. She was older than the girl in the
market, mid twenties, maybe thirty and taller than usual; only up to my shoulder
but then I'm 6 foot 3.
I stepped back as I realised there was a group of Chinese men in the lobby.
Was I going to get rolled? But they were only taxi drivers waiting for a
return fare, smoking, arguing and watching television. She turned and took
my hand and led me to the second or third door of about a dozen which led
off the corridor. It was her room.
Imagine the decor of a tacky Chinese take-away; all red and gold, tassels,
dragons, pagodas. There was a dressing table with theatrical style mirror
and light bulbs, which only deepened the shadows in the rest of the room,
a cane arm chair and a large double bed. I noticed no bed clothes or duvets,
just a bolster, obviously not for sleeping on. She led me into the centre of
the room and turned, pressed up to me and started to undo the top button of
my shirt. Her knee met mine, our thighs connected, our bodies touched and I
could feel her diaphragm move as she breathed. Looking up into my face from
under her enormous eye lashes, she said, "You give me 25 dollars?"
I nodded, tongue-tied with lust, trousers in turmoil, reached in my back
pocket and counted out 25 dollars. She took it with both hands and said
coyly, again from under the eyelashes, "I need 2 dollars more for the room,
to pay the landlady." I just nodded and paid. She tucked the money away
in the dressing table and turned back to continue undoing my shirt. I put my
hands on her hips and ran them up and down letting my finger tips explore.
As I pulled her to me to reach round her, she pushed me back tugging at my
belt buckle, then my zip.
I felt my trousers drop round my ankles and pulled her closer but again she
pushed me back. Smiling she reached behind her. I heard the whisper of a
zip. She shrugged her shoulders, the dress slipped off with sigh and left
her in bra and knicks. No false boobs I noticed, just a padded bra but then,
no tits either. She allowed me to pull her close. I groped the cheeks of her
bum, stroking and kneading them through the silky fabric, firm but yielding.
I felt her elegant fingers groping my package, squeezing my balls. She stood
back, posed briefly, hands on hips, one knee pushed forward, first to the
right, then to the left, revelling in my admiration.
She took my hands and guided me back so that I sat down in the arm chair.
Kneeling, she tugged at my pants and my dick, relieved to be free at last,
stood to attention. "Oh you big, big boy. I gonna...." The rest of the
sentence was lost as she wrapped her lips around it and started a long, slow
sucking. Looking down I could see her lips had left a bright red ring about
a third of the way down the shaft. My shoes and then trousers were pulled
off. Then she was getting up and backing away, taking my hands to pull me
with her across the room.
As she felt the bed at the back of her legs she knelt up on to it, half
turned, took my dick again in her hand and pulled me forward. I expected she
would turn and offer her bum to me as my lover and I had in our experiments
back home. But no, she lay back, legs spread, gently tugging my prick to
pull me down onto her. As I went down those long slim fingers guided me
between her smooth ivory thighs. She raised her hips and it slipped in!
In where???? It was warm, slippery and soft. I saw a brief flash of pain
cross her face. She had such a lovely face. I guess some guys would be
turned on by hurting her in this way but I just wanted to kiss her. "Are you
alright?" I stammered. "Oh you big boy, big boy. You give me good fuck." And
her arms came up round my neck, her legs gripped me round the waist and we
started to buck and ride.
Wow! This girl knew her stuff. As I thrust down she pushed up with her hips
to force me in deeper, then clenched her cheeks to draw me out. Once, twice,
five, ten, twenty times then the express train that had been building up
steam in my balls all evening, stormed up the tunnel and burst out of the
head.
One more thrust and I collapsed on her. She let me roll over, my prick
already sagging lolled soggily on my stomach and I lay beside her, my head
in a whirl.
Was this a man or woman? I hadn't seen or felt a dick but then I didn't
remember her knickers coming off, but they must have. I reached out and
squeezed her hand. She smiled. I felt her tremble as I stroked her stomach,
explored south with my fingers and found cotton fabric!
I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look. She anticipated my
question by half turning toward me and reaching behind undid the ribbon
around her hips, which held the top edge of a triangular, flesh coloured
cache-sex. She brought up one knee and reaching between her legs undid the
two lower ribbons. They had passed round below her cheeks on each side
following the natural groove and probably enhancing the shape of her
delectable rear. She held it up for me to inspect; only thin cotton, no
elastic, it would have been made to fit her exactly.
Before I could reach out to take it her eyes looked down. Mine followed. The
look on my face must have spoken volumes. I'd seen a few tool kits in my
days at school and in the army; no chance of modesty in the showers after
gym but this was the smallest ever. A rose bud of a prick with two small,
sweet white g****s. She caught the look and thrust her hips forward and
pouted as if to say, "Well, what did you expect?"
I didn't want to hurt her but how to get through the language barrier and
tell her how I felt? I reached forward and stroked her stomach again. She
trembled at my touch. My open hand caressed her, gently squeezing the tiny
balls. Taking the tip of her foreskin between finger and thumb I gently
tweaked it out to full length. The prick started to firm up so that I could
slide the foreskin back to reveal a purple g****. Although I had seen a few
foreskins before, my lover and I are both circumcised so I had never had one
to play with, so to speak. As I stroked up and down, it came erect, still
not much bigger than my middle finger. She sighed and lay back, eyes closed.
I leaned over and took the purple g**** in my mouth. My lips sucked it. My
teeth nibbled it. My tongue danced rings around it. She stirred and writhed.
As my mouth worked on her exquisite little tool my fingers continued their
exploration, running up and down the inside of her thighs from knee to the
crack between her cheeks. Full of curiosity I eased them apart and probed.
It was wet and slippery in there. The remnants of KY jelly mixed with her
natural juices and my cum allowed easy access to my fingers. I massaged the
inner ring of her colon with my finger tips, working back and forth on her
prostate. She reacted with a moan, arching her back and opening her legs
wider to allow me in up to my knuckles. I sucked harder until...... her hands
grabbed my head pulling me up to face her as she sat up and leaned forward
to give a furious, almost vicious kiss, full on the lips.
I felt a wet touch on my chest as she fell back again on the bed. Looking
down there was a silvery droplet hanging in the hair to match the milky
dribble still trickling from her foreskin and starting to run across her
belly. Easing the drip off my chest with my finger tip, I held it up for her
to see then carefully licked it off.
I went back there from time to time over the rest of my stay in Singapore,
whenever I felt sorry for myself. Each time she would run down the steps to
claim me before the other girls. Eventually they got to accept me as hers
and would even go find her if I called. They taught me a lot but that's
another story. I came home at the end of my time and never saw her again.
I hear Bugis Street has been bulldozed for new development in booming
Singapore but the market men could set up anywhere. I wonder if there is a
place for the girls in Lee Kuan Yew's puritan paradise? Probably not but it
would be nice to know how they all got on.
As you have probably seen on the holiday programmes on telly, the tropical
countries all seem to have a tradition of outdoor eating places. They are
open markets similar to the shopping markets here but the barrows are
equipped with earthenware charcoal braziers and a wok sits in the circular
top. They are very democratic with white tuans eating alongside the cleaning
ladies.
Singapore had two well known such markets, one by the harbour, the name of
the street I can't remember, the other more central to town in Bugis Street.
That's where we went. Picked out a likely stall, got some ice-cold Tiger
beers and ordered our first course. As the guys are cooking right in front
of you there is no menu; as you eat one course the next is cooking.
Soon the main reason for Bugis Street's fame arrived, the local "girls".
These are young Chinese TVs. Being slightly built and relatively free of
body hair unlike Europeans, they pass as girls very easily, even without
trying. When they add a slinky, silk cheongsam, split to the thigh, pile on
the make-up, the nails and high heels, WOW!
They are all on the game of course and parade up and down, stopping at each
table. The crowd having downed a few Tigers, is playful. You get the
picture. There you are sitting round a table trying to act macho, one of the
lads, and this gorgeous creature is rubbing her thigh up against your
shoulder. Neither of you is wearing much clothing, it's too hot, just thin
cotton or silk. You can smell the perfume. Dare you stroke her bum, that
very, very strokeable bum under just thin silk?
Sensing your embarrassment, she plays to the crowd and sidles down onto your
lap. You can feel it's a firm bum, much firmer than an English woman's. That
tells you it's a man but then again, young Chinese women are not so well
upholstered as Europeans. She wriggles and your prick responds, you can't help
it. She feels it and jumps up giggling and skips over to her friends. She chatters
away to them in Chinese looking back at you now and again with one hand coyly
over her mouth to hide the giggles. Oh that mouth, bright red lipstick: you'd get up
and kiss it but you are soooo embarrassed and the crowd is hooting with
laughter.
Ah well, after an hour or two the meal is over, you've all had one beer too
many and it's time for bed. The party breaks up and you head for the next
thoroughfare where the taxis are waiting. You climb in and start to say,
"Ayah Rajah Road, please driver".
He says (the song of all oriental taxi drivers), "You want nice girl, John?"
You can't get that young TV out of your head, or your trousers, so easily.
"Do you know any nice boys?"
"Chinese boy or Malay boy?", Now you hadn't thought that far ahead but she
sure looked Chinese. "Chinese boy, please."
Off goes the driver into the depths of town, across the Merdeka bridge into
an area of shanties stretching along the coast away from the harbour.
Eventually he swings into a garishly lit street where each veranda is
illuminated by lanterns and in the light of the lanterns you can see a group
of girls.
The little gaggle of glamorous figures around the taxi in front broke up as
I paid my driver and got out. The tallest of the group caught my eye, smiled
and came over. "Hallo John, you want good time?" I nodded and she turned and
led me onto the veranda and into the nearest building. I admired her figure
as she went up the steps. I could see she had very little on under the
figure-hugging silk dress. About a size 10, I guessed. It tightened across
her rear clinging to each perfect cheek in turn as she stepped up. I expected her to
hitch up her skirt but the slit at the side allowed her easy movement. The
flash of thigh drew my eyes to the finely shaped legs, the calves
emphasised by the effect of the high heels. She was older than the girl in the
market, mid twenties, maybe thirty and taller than usual; only up to my shoulder
but then I'm 6 foot 3.
I stepped back as I realised there was a group of Chinese men in the lobby.
Was I going to get rolled? But they were only taxi drivers waiting for a
return fare, smoking, arguing and watching television. She turned and took
my hand and led me to the second or third door of about a dozen which led
off the corridor. It was her room.
Imagine the decor of a tacky Chinese take-away; all red and gold, tassels,
dragons, pagodas. There was a dressing table with theatrical style mirror
and light bulbs, which only deepened the shadows in the rest of the room,
a cane arm chair and a large double bed. I noticed no bed clothes or duvets,
just a bolster, obviously not for sleeping on. She led me into the centre of
the room and turned, pressed up to me and started to undo the top button of
my shirt. Her knee met mine, our thighs connected, our bodies touched and I
could feel her diaphragm move as she breathed. Looking up into my face from
under her enormous eye lashes, she said, "You give me 25 dollars?"
I nodded, tongue-tied with lust, trousers in turmoil, reached in my back
pocket and counted out 25 dollars. She took it with both hands and said
coyly, again from under the eyelashes, "I need 2 dollars more for the room,
to pay the landlady." I just nodded and paid. She tucked the money away
in the dressing table and turned back to continue undoing my shirt. I put my
hands on her hips and ran them up and down letting my finger tips explore.
As I pulled her to me to reach round her, she pushed me back tugging at my
belt buckle, then my zip.
I felt my trousers drop round my ankles and pulled her closer but again she
pushed me back. Smiling she reached behind her. I heard the whisper of a
zip. She shrugged her shoulders, the dress slipped off with sigh and left
her in bra and knicks. No false boobs I noticed, just a padded bra but then,
no tits either. She allowed me to pull her close. I groped the cheeks of her
bum, stroking and kneading them through the silky fabric, firm but yielding.
I felt her elegant fingers groping my package, squeezing my balls. She stood
back, posed briefly, hands on hips, one knee pushed forward, first to the
right, then to the left, revelling in my admiration.
She took my hands and guided me back so that I sat down in the arm chair.
Kneeling, she tugged at my pants and my dick, relieved to be free at last,
stood to attention. "Oh you big, big boy. I gonna...." The rest of the
sentence was lost as she wrapped her lips around it and started a long, slow
sucking. Looking down I could see her lips had left a bright red ring about
a third of the way down the shaft. My shoes and then trousers were pulled
off. Then she was getting up and backing away, taking my hands to pull me
with her across the room.
As she felt the bed at the back of her legs she knelt up on to it, half
turned, took my dick again in her hand and pulled me forward. I expected she
would turn and offer her bum to me as my lover and I had in our experiments
back home. But no, she lay back, legs spread, gently tugging my prick to
pull me down onto her. As I went down those long slim fingers guided me
between her smooth ivory thighs. She raised her hips and it slipped in!
In where???? It was warm, slippery and soft. I saw a brief flash of pain
cross her face. She had such a lovely face. I guess some guys would be
turned on by hurting her in this way but I just wanted to kiss her. "Are you
alright?" I stammered. "Oh you big boy, big boy. You give me good fuck." And
her arms came up round my neck, her legs gripped me round the waist and we
started to buck and ride.
Wow! This girl knew her stuff. As I thrust down she pushed up with her hips
to force me in deeper, then clenched her cheeks to draw me out. Once, twice,
five, ten, twenty times then the express train that had been building up
steam in my balls all evening, stormed up the tunnel and burst out of the
head.
One more thrust and I collapsed on her. She let me roll over, my prick
already sagging lolled soggily on my stomach and I lay beside her, my head
in a whirl.
Was this a man or woman? I hadn't seen or felt a dick but then I didn't
remember her knickers coming off, but they must have. I reached out and
squeezed her hand. She smiled. I felt her tremble as I stroked her stomach,
explored south with my fingers and found cotton fabric!
I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look. She anticipated my
question by half turning toward me and reaching behind undid the ribbon
around her hips, which held the top edge of a triangular, flesh coloured
cache-sex. She brought up one knee and reaching between her legs undid the
two lower ribbons. They had passed round below her cheeks on each side
following the natural groove and probably enhancing the shape of her
delectable rear. She held it up for me to inspect; only thin cotton, no
elastic, it would have been made to fit her exactly.
Before I could reach out to take it her eyes looked down. Mine followed. The
look on my face must have spoken volumes. I'd seen a few tool kits in my
days at school and in the army; no chance of modesty in the showers after
gym but this was the smallest ever. A rose bud of a prick with two small,
sweet white g****s. She caught the look and thrust her hips forward and
pouted as if to say, "Well, what did you expect?"
I didn't want to hurt her but how to get through the language barrier and
tell her how I felt? I reached forward and stroked her stomach again. She
trembled at my touch. My open hand caressed her, gently squeezing the tiny
balls. Taking the tip of her foreskin between finger and thumb I gently
tweaked it out to full length. The prick started to firm up so that I could
slide the foreskin back to reveal a purple g****. Although I had seen a few
foreskins before, my lover and I are both circumcised so I had never had one
to play with, so to speak. As I stroked up and down, it came erect, still
not much bigger than my middle finger. She sighed and lay back, eyes closed.
I leaned over and took the purple g**** in my mouth. My lips sucked it. My
teeth nibbled it. My tongue danced rings around it. She stirred and writhed.
As my mouth worked on her exquisite little tool my fingers continued their
exploration, running up and down the inside of her thighs from knee to the
crack between her cheeks. Full of curiosity I eased them apart and probed.
It was wet and slippery in there. The remnants of KY jelly mixed with her
natural juices and my cum allowed easy access to my fingers. I massaged the
inner ring of her colon with my finger tips, working back and forth on her
prostate. She reacted with a moan, arching her back and opening her legs
wider to allow me in up to my knuckles. I sucked harder until...... her hands
grabbed my head pulling me up to face her as she sat up and leaned forward
to give a furious, almost vicious kiss, full on the lips.
I felt a wet touch on my chest as she fell back again on the bed. Looking
down there was a silvery droplet hanging in the hair to match the milky
dribble still trickling from her foreskin and starting to run across her
belly. Easing the drip off my chest with my finger tip, I held it up for her
to see then carefully licked it off.
I went back there from time to time over the rest of my stay in Singapore,
whenever I felt sorry for myself. Each time she would run down the steps to
claim me before the other girls. Eventually they got to accept me as hers
and would even go find her if I called. They taught me a lot but that's
another story. I came home at the end of my time and never saw her again.
I hear Bugis Street has been bulldozed for new development in booming
Singapore but the market men could set up anywhere. I wonder if there is a
place for the girls in Lee Kuan Yew's puritan paradise? Probably not but it
would be nice to know how they all got on.
11 年 前
)
