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SINGAPORE GIRL Part 3

Friar Dave

It so happened that we didn't fuck for about three days after 
that. On the average, we fucked about every eight hours, so this was 
quite a long time. And it was just as well, in a way:
     "My asshole is sore."
     "I -- I'm not surprised," I said. "I wish it wasn't -- but I 
liked the way it got sore." I thought about my next words. "And so 
did you."
     Her eyes blazed at me. I saw the anger beginning in her face -
- and then it collapsed. "I know -- but that's what the gay boys 
do, isn't it? Do you wish I was a boy?"
     I started to laugh -- and then realized she was only half-
joking.
     "June, I like licking your cunt," I said quietly. "And so do 
you. Does that mean you wish I was a woman -- since cuntlicking is 
what lesbians do?"
     Her eyes half closed and she shivered. "I know!" She seemed 
amazed. "It makes me itchy when you say that -- but you know I 
don't like lesbians."  
     I licked my lips and stepped toward her. She put her small 
hand against my chest, keeping me away. 
     I didn't press it. Even if I'd been the kind of moronic 
asshole who tries to force himself on someone else, there was 
something else to consider: June had been an auxiliary cop in 
Singapore, with the attendant martial arts training. We'd sparred 
playfully a few times. She was just as fast as I and a helluvalot 
more deceptive in her movements. I knew I could absorb enormous 
damage, and use my superior strength to prevail, but I had no 
desire to do so -- and I didn't know if there were subconscious 
resentments in this hard-bodied young woman that could make a 
playful blow slip and do serious damage. This was just another 
equality that made her attractive to me: June could not be forced 
to do anything. Whatever she did, it was by choice. 
     "But!" She laughed and dropped her hand. She knew my respect 
for her prowess -- and, more importantly, simply for her. "But!"
     I nodded ruefully. "I know." 
     Indeed I did. She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they 
exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics, 
a sports competition for "special" children. Special meant 
retarded, for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled. 
In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June 
donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the 
Special Olympics. The timing of the sore asshole, in a way, 
couldn't have been better. The program was going to greatly limit 
the time we had together for the next week -- and it was one of the 
many reasons I was becoming more and more taken with her. 
     Which was also one of the things that really bothered Annie.
     Who? 
     Yes, ahem, well ... 
     At the time I met June, I had already known -- in every sense 
-- Annie for more than two years. I, like she in those pre-AIDS days, 
had other lovers. Annie knew about June, and June knew about Annie. 
Annie was a lot more at ease with the idea of June than vice-versa. 
When I said June and I fucked about every eight hours on the 
average, I meant "average." Annie and I spent two nights a week 
together, usually. Annie, like June, was a couple of years younger 
than me. We'd met when I was working a part-time job selling 
coffees and teas, during a publishing drought. What first got my 
attention was, oddly enough, her mind. I had a game I sometimes 
played with customers. Since the various coffees we sold had 
different per-pound prices, blends called for some arithmetic. 
After all, a couple of ounces of Kenya Double-A at $4 per pound and 
a quarter pound of French Roast Columbian at $3.65 a pound and two 
ounces of Yemen Mocha at $5.10 a pound, etc., gets one into the 
realm of challenging numbers. I made a gam of it.
     My game was to run it up in my head. (Not that tough, dividing 
by sixteen and keeping a running total, once you practice it; try 
it and see.) That scared customers who weren't accustomed to using 
those mental muscles. They only trusted calculators and adding 
machine tapes. So I had this deal: If they wanted, I would run it 
up on the adding machine. If I was wrong, they got the coffee free --
I would pay for it out of my own pocket. If I was right, they'd 
pay a fifty percent premium ... to me. 
     Few took me up on it. Those that did, lost -- always. 
     Annie came in on a crowded Sunday and ordered two ounces of this 
and three ounces op that and so forth. Ended up with six different 
beans in the pound. When I turned to tell her the price, she said, 
"Wait a minute -- five seventy....three? Yes. Yes. Five seventy-
three, if you round up for a half-cent."
     That's what got my attention. Then her face. I asked her if 
she was half-Chinese and half-Irish. She had reddish-brown hair and a 
fine boned faced. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were 
slanted. She explained that she was part Magyar -- the result of 
Mongolians overrunning eastern Europe Way Back When. Her face was 
fascinating and her mind was terrific.
     Her body was outrageous. Imagine a woman who's just over five-
foot-one and weighs about ninety pounds. Sounds scrawny, right? No 
way. She was very small-boned. Annie had absolutely beautiful, 
perfectly formed, firm and sumptuous breasts. Her waist was slender 
and her hips were narrow. She had a delectable little ass and the 
tastiest cunt...
     She was also completely uninhibited. Annie would do anything 
that felt good and anything she didn't like, she wouldn't do. She 
could suck cock expertly, loved to be licked, enjoyed cock in her 
cunt from any angle and enjoyed ass fucking. She was multiorgasmic 
in the extreme and very vocal about it. She liked men, she liked 
women, she liked threesomes, she had even enjoyed orgies.
     When I was fifteen and jerking off, I would construct the 
perfect sexual partner in my imagination. That image was Annie. I had 
to wait till I was in my late twenties to meet her and discover 
that reality could exceed imagination. Not only was she lovely, 
incredibly sexy and sweet, she was smart and perceptive.
     Of course, if this was fiction, Annie and June would have 
drooled over each other at first sight and we all would have fucked 
off together into the sunset. The fact was, though, that June 
hated the idea of doing anything with another woman and Annie didn't 
find June attractive (Annie liked -- and likes -- women with larger 
breasts and voluptuous hips and has a special weakness for long 
nipples.) In a way, that was no problem for me, since -- oddly 
enough -- being in bed with more than one woman at once has never 
been one of my major fantasies.
     In another way, it was a good thing. Considering how 
passionate and sexual both women were, a man caught between them in 
bed would have gone up in a puff of smoke. No cremation necessary; 
by dawn, there'd have been nothing left of the poor bastard but 
ashes.
     I should have been in pig heaven. Here were two women whom I 
found tremendously attractive and felt the same way about me. For 
one reason or another, neither was willing to assert a claim of 
exclusivity on me. One was willing to get weird at the drop of a 
dildo, while the other simply Liked Doing Things. And one of them 
was going to be busy -- and had a sore ass! -- for a few days while 
the other was more than eager to make up a little lost time.
     But things were not perfect. For one thing, their periods 
coincided. No big deal, I thought, since it didn't bother me, 
either for fucking or sucking. But June was uncomfortable and Annie 
got cranky. And that was the least of it.
     See, while June was about to be tied up with her Jaycees 
project, Annie was about to spend two weeks visiting friends in 
France. She was doubly annoyed at the timing.
     I, on the other hand, had gotten used to fucking two or three 
times each day, sometimes with more than one woman -- and now I was 
looking forward (if that's the right term) to about ten days of 
Doing Without.
     True, the day before she headed for JFK and her transAtlantic 
flight, Annie and I lolled about in bed for about eighteen hours of 
sexual bliss. True, June stopped by the very next day, flipped up 
her skirt to reveal her pantyless cunt, grabbed her ankles and 
winked at me upside down between her knees. But that was going to 
be it.
     Ahh well, I figured. I needed to spend more time at the 
Selectric. And in a pinch, there were always the Palm Sisters and 
Fond Memories. Hell, what was ten days? I told myself.
     It could be a very long time, I told myself.
     To my amazement, on the Thursday night that Annie left for 
France and June left for Albany, I got a phone call from Philly: 
Barbie Shelton was coming to town.
     I had known Barb for about four years, at that point. She'd 
lived with Bertha, also an NYU student, in the same building as me 
during the Great Blackout of '77 and had come down to keep me 
company. Bertha knew I had just had a very bad breakup and was 
going -- quite literally -- crazy. Barbie saved my life. No shit -- 
I was seriously contemplating suicide when she decided to take me 
under her wing.
     I had seen her around the building from time to time. She had 
a sweet face and a placid demeanor and seemed like a nice, plump 
girl. I had no idea what kind of figure she had, since she always 
wore big, loose mu-mu dresses. At about 2:30 a.m. on the second 
night of the blackout, after we had killed about two-thirds of a 
bottle of cheap red wine that she'd brought, she announced she 
really would prefer to stay with me rather than risk waking her 
roommate (whom I'd always found more attractive) by coming home 
late. Between the emotional shock of the breakup a few weeks before 
and my weariness (an hour of sleep at a time was rare) and the 
wine, I thought it sounded reasonable -- and no more than that. 
     But in the darkness of my bedroom, I felt something against my 
face, then something else. I stood and lit a candle and discovered 
Barbie had absolutely enormous breasts. "Where did THOSE come 
from?" I'd demanded. She'd laughed -- gently, as with everything 
else -- and beckoned me back to bed. I was rather unprepared for 
the body so carefully hidden under the loose, oversize dresses. 
Imagine a woman who's five foot tall, has 32-inch hips, a twenty-five 
inch waist and a bra labeled 32-D ... and who overflows the 
brasierre's cups.
     But what was wonderful about her was her sweetness and 
compassion. She loved my delight in licking her cunt  and found it 
simply amazing that I wasn't fixated on her tits. (I'd gotten over 
my big-tit cravings when I was 17. See, I had this cousin, the same 
age -- But that, as Conan's biographer would say, is another tale.)
     So Barbie was coming to stay with me for a few days while she 
visited friends in the city. I filled her in (in more ways than 
one. Heh.) on what I'd been up to and we made love a lot. She 
reveled in waking me one morning with her mouth locked on the tip 
of my cock and sucked me off, drinking me moaning dry and then 
sprawling on me and kissing my lips with my own cum on hers. We 
slept again, till nearly one in the afternoon, and then made love, 
with her on her face and a pillow under her hips, and then drowsed 
till dark. I can still feel the wonderful weight of her breasts 
pressed against me and the firmness of her ass under my fingers and 
the wet heat of her cunt against my hip and the slightly salty -- 
from perspiration -- taste of her ear when I kissed her awake that 
night. I went out and bought the fixings and prepared an odd dinner 
of broiled filet of sole, mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus. 
Then we went back to bed and made love again. Barb, wherever you 
are, you are precious. If you are not happy, call me and talk to 
me. You saved my life and my heart and I want to do for you.
     A week passed and June came back earlier than planned -- 
because, she said, she'd missed me and was itchy for me.
     Barbie had left for home two days before and I was randy as 
hell. 
     I got over to June's apartment at six. I had just sold a 
piece and was feeling jubilant. As soon as the door was closed, she 
got a liplock on me and the only thing that kept my cock out of her 
was the aroma of broiling steak. She fended me off and we had a 
delicious meal. I didn't do it justice; I kept thinking of desert.
     When we got upstairs, June wanted to tell me of the Special 
Olympics regionals and I was more than willing to listen. But after 
forty minutes, as we were closing doors and shutting windows (heat, 
remember?), she suddenly turned to me and said, "Oooooh -- I am so 
itchy thinking of a big rubber dick."
     "I was surprised you could take that big dildo in your little 
cunt," I admitted. 
     "I told you my boyfriend-boss was very big," she said.
     "I thought you meant simply tall."
     "I don't want to think about him," she said. "I want to be 
with you. We can always use that big rubber cock."
     I smiled sadly. "I didn't think to bring it with me," I 
confessed. I was standing behind her and slid my hands under her 
blue sweater to hold her nipples. She pushed her ass against me and 
shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, her breath hissing. 
"But -- we can improvise." 
     She reached back and rubbed my cock through my pants. "This 
cock is so nice and hard -- " I bent and licked the back of her 
neck. She shivered and said, "And this tongue is so nice and wet --"
     "I want to fuck you -- now!" I breathed into her ear.
     That's when I began to discover just how kinky this lovely 
little Singaporean girl really was.