Surreptitious Love Ch. 121

Brunette

Chapter 121 — Mira consents to Non-consent

Last week, my young colleague Mira from the Philippines had embarked on a gangbang with us four guys, which had left everyone involved completely satisfied. Before we departed, however, we agreed to not simply repeat this kind of rumpus the next time. Charlie, our youngest, insisted that he actually preferred tender and quiet sensual encounters and, later on the same day, he asked if we couldn’t see Mrs. Thuy again, the petite lady who had deflowered him about six weeks back. He was probably longing to knead and explore her pussy as thoroughly as he had Mira’s during the gangbang at the empty Art Deco hotel but, right now, all the Vietnamese were busy preparing Tet, the Lunar New Year festivities. Whether Charlie liked it or not, he would have to make do with Mira and me, but, at least, the three of us agreed to think up a rousing role-play that would satisfy both, Mira’s consensual non-consent shtick as well as his more tender leanings.

As Mira was teaching every day and busy seeing her new girlfriend Hanh, our lovely young blind masseuse, we messaged each other back and forth. At some point, Mira claimed that she was still sore from the depraved debauchery the previous week, but since she added half a dozen smileys 30 seconds later, I reckoned it wasn’t all that bad. She was probably rather proud that she had gobbled down and emptied four cocks all by herself several times in about two hours. We bounced a few ideas for the role-play back and forth, which included one where Charlie and I would film her shop-lifting and then blackmail her into sex with us. Since Charlie had flinched when he had seen Mira’s long clit for the first time, however, I came up with the idea to concurrently pretend that he was still a virgin, so that the two of them could reenact the beginning of their sensual relationship and overwrite their slightly sour memories of that monumental event.

I had fond memories of the few the role-plays I had arranged with Tina and Nguyet in the past: Usually, I had pretended to be an engineer from the nearby oil refinery, who was in town for only a day and a bit lost. Once, Tina had shown me our nondescript small city as a tourist guide who made a bit of money on the side by renting out her flawless body to foreigners she liked. Another time, I had taped her pilfering chocolate at a supermarket, after which I had taken her to a slightly shabby hotel nearby. Nguyet, on the other hand, had play-acted a part-time hooker once, pretending to need money as a single mom. I would never forget the moment when she gingerly opened her denim jacket at a café to present me her chest in a black string vest, without a bra. The capstone of our little series of role-plays was, however, when Tina and Nguyet were trollop sisters for the day. Tina was actually menstruating but said she desperately needed the money for a new phone. Reluctantly, she offered her moist velvety sheath for temporary use by and for some dong.

Since Mira enjoyed consensual non-consent so much, she eventually agreed to being caught and taped shop-lifting, since we had never made her paradoxical proclivity the theme of a whole afternoon. When Charlie and I were sitting up on the balcony at our new favorite café again, unfortunately, I couldn’t mention those rousing stories with Nguyet and Tina, as he was my 18-year-old virgin son for the day. I absolutely loved, though, that none of us three really knew what was about to ensue. All we had agreed upon was meeting for coffee here, the two of us, before Mira would text me around noon. I wondered if Charlie and I had to hash and rehash mundane topics now, such as his studies, and if Charlie would suspend the plot line with his aunt Yen, with whom he was madly in love. It took only a few seconds, though, before both points were answered:

“Dad, do you know what actually happened during that massage that mom gave me when I had strained my thigh?”

What a stroke of genius that was! I absolutely loved it! In one fell swoop Charlie had made his biological aunt his mother and, thus, my wife. At least, for the afternoon. Good salacious Lord!

“Nope. Get cracking!” I encouraged him, already pretty sure what was about to come.

“Well, you know how b-beautiful mom is… b-but when she had m-massaged me for half-an-hour, near my p-penis, it got really stiff and hurt in my b-briefs…”

“Oh, dear,” I sighed. “And what did you do?” I was curious, but only to see if he would stick to the actual story or even embellish it further.

It was hard to keep a straight face, though.

“Well, she only smiled and then removed my underwear… then she took my… m-my dick in her hand and stroked it up and down… b-but t-then… t-then, I came on her hand and arm… and my pubic hair… just everywhere, perhaps even on the floor… I d-don’t even remember…” he stammered, blushing.

“Dude!” I exclaimed. “Jesus, you don’t do things by halves,” I laughed. “Well, I guess it’s not a big deal, in the end…” I added jovially güvenilir bahis and avuncular but insisted that he tell me more.

“Mom said that I was ‘mature’ now… well, she actually said ‘ripe’… I don’t know… she encouraged me to masturbate once in a while, so that I wouldn’t come at inappropriate moments… but then she wanted to show me, first, how it’s done properly… she also mentioned you at some point,” he added–needlessly, I felt.

What could that have been about?!

“Oh, what did she say?”

He cleared his throat and hesitated, but under the uppermost layer of the skin on his face, I could see an impish smile.

“That you don’t come that fast anymore…”

Ha-ha, that son of a gun! But no, fair enough. I loved his sense of humor, and the more I looked at him, the more he reminded me of that young Hong-Kong-Chinese dude from Silicon Valley. Jian… Gian? Yang? I couldn’t remember. But there’s only one.

“Well, Charlie, that’s life… but I can fuck longer than you. Just ask your mother!” I cracked up, happy to have evened the score so quickly.

He took it with humor, of course, but now I was afraid that he would ask me how sex was with his ‘mom’. His aunt Yen and me had done it perhaps eight times, but only twice just the two of us. The other times, her daughter Linh or Hanh, our blind masseuse, who was Yen’s godchild, had joined us. So, I could have told him what his aunt or, today, ‘mother’ was like in bed, but Charlie surprised me with another, related concern:

“Dad, you’ve promised we would go to a massage salon together… one that has hookers, you know…” he was complaining, apparently.

“Nonsense. That was a misunderstanding… I mean, all I had promised was that… that–once you’re ready–I’d give you the money… no, you gotta go by yourself… or take one of your buddies… I can’t go with you… what would mom think?!” I justified my stance.

I almost snorted into my coffee with laughter and lit a ciggie, while Charlie seemed to be forging plans in which direction he wanted to steer the conversation. After he had cleared his throat again, he remarked, sounding kind of melancholic:

“You’ve done well…” he sighed.

“Huh? In what way?” I inquired.

“Well, you can have sex with the most beautiful woman in the world whenever you want…”

Ok. I thanked him for the compliment and promised to relay it to his mother at the next best opportunity.

“No need… I’ve told her many times how I feel about her… also during the massage… and afterwards again, when she masturbated me, going for seconds…”

“Jesus, Charlie! She did?! What kind of havoc do the two of you wreak while I’m at work?!” I demanded to know.

Oh, man, I loved every minute of it. Yes, it was a stroke of genius to pretend that his awesome, beautiful biological aunt was his mom. Well, she was a perfect fit, age-wise, just like me. Would he disclose that he actually wanted to have sex with her, though? The longer we were chatting about my gorgeous mature friend Yen — his aunt — the more I believed that I was her husband and Charlie our son. Sounding surprisingly confident, he did mention that she would eventually offer herself to him and that he was hoping that I would be his wingman in the pursuit. We ordered two more coffees, as it wasn’t quite noon yet, and I avidly lit another cigarette, as hilarious and endearing our role-plays had started.

Charlie was now hemming and hawing a bit but eventually disclosed that his ‘mother’ Yen was jerking him off twice a week now and added that she really seemed to like it a lot, too. Purportedly, she also let him touch her, almost wherever he wanted. Of course, here, the wish was the father of the thought.

“Touch your mother?! Get out! Where, for Christ’s sake?!” I pretended to be exasperated.

“On her thighs and butt…” my ‘son’ admitted.

“With or without panties?” I grew increasingly keen to know.

“Usually with, but once she pulled them down to almost her knees… I saw her hair down there,” Charlie admitted, a tad sheepish and proud at the same time.

“No way! Charlie, really? I gotta talk to your mother… you gotta stop that shit… but you really like it, huh?”

He nodded dreamily, holding back the piece of information that, in real life, he had once even seen a string of gooey juice dangling from his aunt’s pussy. Anyway, I took another good drag of my ciggie and looked around. Of course, nothing had changed here at the café; we were still surrounded and shielded by tons of flowers and plants. The cute little waitress showed herself again to refill our tea glasses and, after she had left, I pointed in her direction with my cigarette between my index and middle fingers, telling him:

“Hey, you know what?! That cute little damsel would be just right for you…”

“She has a boyfriend already,” he replied instantly.

“Oh, how do you know?”

“All girls I hit on already have a boyfriend…”

I had to laugh but apologized quickly, telling him that he still güvenilir bahis siteleri needed to try, though:

“Charlie, you can’t let your mother jerk you off forever…”

“I know,” he concurred, looking at the floor. “But I’m so happy that she does it…” he defended himself. “To get to the same point with girls like the waitress here, I’d have to wait for six months…”

“Perhaps more like two or three… anyway, that’s too long or too much effort?”

“Yeah, somehow… I find it so frustrating to be told ‘no’… or having to wait and wait…”

“Do you know what’s also frustrating, son: That every time we talk, I have to listen to you raving on and on about how beautiful your mother is and how much you love her, but then you don’t have the fucking balls to go to one of the dozens of massage parlors in our town, where you could easily get a girl to give you a decent blowjob, at least…” I vented my alleged bottled-up anger and frustration.

There were no brothels in Vietnam, as prostitution was illegal, but everyone knew where to get a hand- or blowjob. Or sex proper. At some hotels, hairdressers, or karaoke bars, one could call hookers to show up there, but perhaps that wasn’t Charlie’s thing.

“I don’t think I’m technically in love with mom… I admire… I adore her, rather,” he corrected me, splitting hairs now. “Well, she is just the most beautiful…”

I rolled my eyes, as he was now steering the conversation back to her, still harping the same string. But then I found it endearing how much he loved his aunt Yen. To perhaps pay me back for my uncouthness earlier, he got his anti-tank gun out:

“Dad? Did you adore granny when you were younger?”

Oh, Good Lord! This time I choked on my coffee. ‘Granny’! Why couldn’t he have said ‘your mother’, at least?! Well, since I criticized him for his enduring love for his ‘mom’, he had to pay me back.

“Oh, yeah, my dear mother… your ‘granny’… of course, she also was a beautiful woman when she was younger… didn’t I show you pictures once?”

“I don’t recall,” he admitted sheepishly. “But did she ever give you a massage?”

“No, that’s not a thing in Europe, but she had a friend who worked as a photographer… there are a bunch of black-and-white photos of her in a knitted dress, sitting under a huge old tree in a forest… and, yes, Charlie–but don’t tell that anyone, not even your beloved mother–when I was young, I sometimes got the album with those photos out of the drawer to jerk off…”

Ironically, this was even true, but I had told him the story mainly so he knew he didn’t need to feel ashamed for the strong feelings he had for his older relative. And, in some weird way, it seemed easier today, in our role-play, to excavate and divulge piquant secrets, as truths and lies intermingled so easily. I was sure we would get back to my admission during the next few weeks, probably even right here at the café, and then Charlie could ask me to separate the truth from the ripping yarns.

“Is it actually normal that guys desire their mother?” he asked now, sounding intrigued.

“Well, girls fall in love with their dads, too. Anyway, the mother is the first woman in every man’s life… and, usually, she is in her prime when the boy is growing up… at least that used to be the case; it has changed a bit nowadays, though… anyway, if she’s good-looking, charming, and smells good: of course, a boy will love her and want to be near her… I think that’s only natural… and many boys feel she’s the only woman available, like in your case…” I chortled, paying him back a bit for the ‘granny’.

Perhaps he couldn’t think of a slick reply, as he only admitted: “Yeah… sometimes I think mom and I are going too far, I know…” he admitted kinda cryptically.

“Well, your mother is beautiful beyond all measure, true… I’ll give you that… but you gotta stop those massages and the jerking off… you gotta find someone outside the family for that… that’s the basis of civilization…” I added, now using one of my heaviest guns.

Charlie nodded full of sorrow, like he knew all that, but then my phone buzzed on the table. Mira had written that she was about to go to the Coop-Mart, where we could tape her shoplifting up in the perfume aisle, at around quarter past 12. Charlie sighed again and promised to be a little more courageous with the ladies in the future.

“Sure, I’ll help you,” I softened my tone. “Hey, let’s go to the Coop; mom gave me a shopping list for Tet…”

He nodded and reassured me that he would go upstairs at the hair salon the next time he needed a haircut, so that one of the girls could massage his cock and then jerk him off, at least. I went to the restroom, and then we stepped outside. As far as I knew, Mira and Charlie hadn’t communicated about today, so he didn’t know what to expect, but I asked myself what she would be wearing: her red-and-white checked skirt that she sported the day he got deflowered, when he flinched and, later, Thuy picked up the slack? This would iddaa siteleri be daring, as it might remind Charlie of his trauma. On the other hand, I would never forget how she had sat upstairs in Nguyet and Thuy’s show home and presented him her gorgeous slim legs. Oh, we would force her to have sex alright today, if that’s what she was craving.

At the supermarket, there were a lot of customers, at least down here on the ground floor. Charlie needed to pee now, and so we went up on the escalator, as the cosmetics section was on the second floor, anyway. Waiting outside the restrooms, I saw Mira saunter through the soap aisle, and what shall I say? Absolutely perfect! She was wearing her orange denim miniskirt with the teal-blue stockings–which had lace where they ended on her thighs, under her skirt–and a light, tight, white sweater, under which she didn’t appear to wear a bra. This very same outfit had made my blood boil so rapidly a few weeks back that I had come on her thigh up there at the same coffee house Charlie and I had just been to. I’d never forget the trail of cum along her inner right thigh and the few splashes on her panties. The only thing that was new was her petrol-colored face-mask, which matched her tights splendidly, just like the orange stripes on her sneakers clicked with her skirt.

The only atrocity was her dyed, peanut-butter-brownish hair. Anyway, I was happy that we knew each other and would definitely fuck later, as hitting on her would not have gotten me anywhere. Charlie, perhaps? She had probably seen me already but, of course, ignored us other customers, as we allegedly didn’t know each other today. Charlie looked around when he came back out but didn’t say anything along the lines of ‘Oh, dad, look over there… the beautiful young lady’. Instead, he suggested that we also ‘buy a gift for mom’, and so we moseyed into the shampoo aisle, keeping an eye on Mira, who was now browsing the perfume section two aisles down.

There weren’t too many shop assistants but, of course, I didn’t want her to get in trouble for the pretended stealing. That would have been fatal. But she was clever and had probably come up with a plan already. I asked myself briefly if Tina didn’t have a proclivity for consensual non-consent, too. I needed to ask her; we had to get back in touch, anyway. Perhaps Nguyet, too. One young employee was restacking the shelf near us, but she disappeared when Charlie and I began to look at razors. As a young Asian, he didn’t really need to shave at this point, though.

“Hey, Charlie, look at that chick over there!” I whispered.

He turned his head and examined Mira, who had just bent over. Good Lord, how much did I want to lift up that skirt in the back! And the front, of course…

“I like her skirt and the stockings…” he finally said. “That looks really good… and her shoes… but no Vietnamese girl would dress like that at lunch-time on a Thursday here in our town…” his keen mind concluded.

“Do you think she’s a foreigner? Thai, perhaps?” I asked.

“There are no Thais in Vietnam… Indonesian?” smart-aleck offered in turn.

There weren’t any Indonesians in Vietnam, either. Oh, well.

“No, they look different… hey, let’s ask her!” I suggested, as I had seen that she was holding two small bottles of perfume in one hand, while she was going through her purse, peering furtively left and right.

“Do you like her, at least? I mean, she appears to be your age, roughly…” I insisted.

“She’s a little skinny, I’d say… look, dad, she doesn’t have any boobs… mom looks so much more womanly…”

Oh, man. He was just hilarious. But it was true. Sigh. Did he actually bring up his ‘mother’ to amuse me, or was his urge just too strong, like some Tourette syndrome? Well, he was seriously in love, and today, he knew he could let his guard down and freely praise his aunt and interject remarks about her whenever he wanted. And, true, Yen did have an absolutely stunning figure at 48.

“Oh, Charlie, pleeease…” I had just groaned, when Mira was finally walking towards us.

We retreated a few steps into the soap aisle, though, to drag things out a bit, but then I asked him to get his phone out and take a picture of her.

“I think she looks just stunning…” I added as a reason.

After he had stealthily gotten his phone out, I whispered that he should start a video, instead. Now, she bent over again to check out the razors for ladies and then–of all things–condoms. Oh, man, she liked role-plays, didn’t she? When she took a box, I asked Charlie quietly to confirm:

“Hey, are you recording?”

He nodded assiduously and kept shooting from the hip, positioning himself half next to and half behind me. I looked at the convex mirror above us on the wall, but there wasn’t anyone near us this time of the day. But now she did something, which was so hot that it made me instantly nauseous: She reached under her skirt and caused the condom pack to vanish, perhaps placing it on her thighs, inside the lacy hems of her tights, close to her boat-hull pussy in her panties. If she was wearing any. Oooaarr! When she was done, she cautiously looked around again, while smoothing her skirt. We looked at each other when she was done, now that she finally had turned around.

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