Welcome To The Panda House Ch. 01.1

WANTIN' A WANTON WONTON

PART I: Sexier Chinese Checkers

And when I get excited my little China girl says,
'Oh Baby, just you shut your mouth!'

-- David Bowie, "Little China Girl"

In China, the National Day holiday is an extra-long weekend in early October, and millions of people make short trips to see this temple-dotted mountain or that two-thousand-year-old village. I was doing the latter with a fellow expatriate teacher and one of our common students. Ginny was a fetching red-haired twentysomething—a first-year teacher who, like me, knew very little Chinese; it was my second year teaching oral English at our university in Wuhan, so I was making it my business to show her the ropes, and in the process make myself both indispensable and irresistible. She lived right upstairs from me in campus housing, and we seemed to hit it off right away, so the game was on. Yu DuMi, or Mimi, was my favorite student by far. She was a charming nineteen-year-old — big smile, big eyes, a talent for speaking English, a penchant for frankness, and a special gift for coming to class tardy. I favored her because she dressed really eccentrically, like an artist, and had a nice, curvy figure—something of a premium in Eastern China, where chicken-bone thin is the norm. Something about it...all that I've mentioned together with her big, round eyes made her look and act like a Westerner. She lived with her mother across the street from our apartment building, and she'd invited Ginny and I over to eat with her family on weekends. She seemed like a natural choice to ask along on a National Day trip. She was excited to see more of the countryside, and had a few ideas on where to go. There was a town called Jingdezhen, pretty far south of the city, that was famous for the invention of porcelain. Ginny had a keen interest in this place, because she used to throw pots in her hippie-girl phase back in England. One could still get ultra-cheap porcelain and art in Jingdezhen at the factory galleries. Ancient villages surrounded the city, and we'd check out a few of them along the way. Our itinerary was set, and my journey with the two hot girlies began.

We started on a long, hot bus ride to the train station in Wuhan. The er er ba (228) was packed with travelers attempting to do the same thing we were—standing room only on a huge, old city bus, coughing along at 20 miles per hour, stopping at every other block. I had a huge backpack better suited for hiking trails than traveling in crowded buses and trains. I nearly knocked over a few little old ladies as I unstrapped it and wedged it along the floor in the tight space where I had to stand. Mimi couldn't help asking, "What do you have in there?" Just clothes and a few supplies, I assured her. "You pack like a girl," she teased, with that big heart-melter of a smile.

It was unseasonably warm for October, and Wuhan is sticky and thick even on a good day when it's hot. Mimi was standing in front of me, Ginny behind me, and all of us were facing the front in the crush of humanity that overloaded the vehicle. The opportunities for pleasure, even the simple feeling of beautiful young bodies pressed against one's flesh, are not to be denied in situations like this. I'm no perv (at least I like to think I'm not!), but you'd have to be a dead man not to get off a little on being sandwiched between two beauties like that. I wasn't the only one with this on my mind, it seemed, because Mimi, who'd always had eyes for me—always sat in the front of the classroom when she came in late, always followed my boring lectures with nods and bright eyes, and followed me home with questions and excuses to visit me in my flat—Mimi seemed to back into me a little too much as we stood there with our left hands raised to grasp the handles.

This was our first real physical contact aside from an accidental (and electric) brush of hands or bump of the hips on our walks home. Today she was in sexy travel mode, as if consciously trying to woo me on our first trip together: her long, straight hair was pulled into two cute little-girl braids that hung over either shoulder, and I focused on the back of her neck, revealed by a scooped muscle shirt, just a few inches away from my lips. I could see the faintest tiny black hairs matted with her sweat, pointed down in the direction of her spine on either side, directing the flow of the cool down her back, tiny droplets beading up like pearls of saltwater. I desperately wanted to give her a lick, a kiss there, right down her back and to that perfect peach-shaped bottom. What a hot little body she had—and it was pressed against mine.

The bus bounced along for a while, which was a very pleasant feeling for a man in a girl sandwich. Every bump or corner we took allowed inertia to shove me into a new part of either girls' body—Ginny's generous breasts against my back were an especially nice treat. I could swear I felt her gorgeously big, stiff nipples through our clothes. We hit the brakes hard once, about halfway through the half-hour ride, which set my pelvis (and awakening cock) hard against Mimi's backside. She must've liked that, because I thought I could feel her start to lean back against me, wiggling that rump against my growing cock. Yes! She was intentionally backing that thang up, no doubt about it. My face flushed as I realized the problem with this pleasant circumstance; this was my student! A sacred relationship, especially for the Chinese, now in direct conflict with Eros. I had to admit, even at that early stage, that it's an undeniable law of nature: a hard dick and a wet pussy are soon joined. She was working that ass against me with a purpose—slow, rhythmic pumping that ran my rod up and down the crack, pussy to bum and back again through those loose, silky soccer shorts. Hopefully the old woman sat to the side of us didn't notice what was quickly descending to full-on dry humping.

Did Ginny know? I tried not to telegraph any information to her through my body—I let Mimi work it however she pleased, and just firmly poked against that excellent ass in counterpoint. Ginny shouldn't have felt any action in my hips or back: she would know it if I had, because by now more people had come on board, and as they packed into the aisle, squeezing us ever closer, I felt the full impression of her body against mine. Whether it was intentional or not, Ginny was spooning me standing up, bumping her chin against my muscular shoulder whenever we pulled up to a stop.

A little later, nearly at the end of our tiring bus ride, Mimi slowed down her pumping, and I felt her shoulders drop back. She was resting against me as if I were a wall, stretching out her back, grinding her butt against my pelvis in slow circles. It was the sexiest feeling I've ever experienced in a public space—two women crushing their ripe young bodies against mine, and apparently enjoying the contact as much as I. I nearly groaned in disappointment as the bus started to disgorge its passengers near the train station. We peeled away from each other, and I relished the coolness at the sweaty spots where our bodies had touched. So much for my own private heaven—it never lasts long enough!

After the usual confusion that comes in the train station—scrambling to find the right terminal, car, and seats, we settled into our nook for the few hours' ride to Jingdezhen. On the way we played cards and gossiped about professors and students. We sat close, all three of us, leaned in, touching each other unnecessarily, a tangle of legs and arms on those cramped seats, and we laughed a lot. I got out a flask of whiskey that Ginny and I nipped at. Mimi had tried it when I first got it out and pronounced it undrinkable, which is what I would call the usual swill made out of rice that they were partial to here. We got silly enough to start talking about sex, pretty loudly. There were probably other English speakers in our car who could understand, but we didn't care. Mimi told us she'd fooled around and even had full-on sex a few times with a boyfriend before, but it was never much fun—she'd never had an "Oh-gashum," as she called it. It was sweet. We corrected her, got her to practice that word, along with what she called "pee kneesh" and "pushy" and "floorplay," a word which took an amusingly long time to decipher. All the words her English teachers somehow missed in her training! Now was the time to fill her in. Ginny and I bonded over coming up with new words for Mimi's sexual vocabulary. Indeed, I was taking a great deal of interest in young Mimi, my little ethics violation to be.

We arrived in Jingdezhen just in time for a cloudburst which turned out to be a big lightning storm that would drag into the night. Dodging raindrops, we rushed to the nearest hotel on foot—right next to the JDZ train station. This city's like any other in the middle of China, pretty grungy and polluted, except for the gorgeous white-and-blue decorated porcelain bases for all the streetlights, like monster candlesticks. After checking into the hotel—three beds in one room!(though of course one bed for three would've been MUCH better)—we poked around like bulls in a little china shop where we found tiles, vases, antique carved doors, and other artwork of varying quality. There was every style and color combination you'd want, but the back wall really caught our attention. Mimi was the first to point them out—the adult section. Everything had erotic or just playful themes—an ink and paint piece showing a boy opening his underpants to show a little moppet what he's got in there; a gorgeous painting of a man and woman locked in a hot embrace—sort of a variation on Klimt's "Kiss" in broad strokes; a decorative plate with a strange tableaux of couples fucking and sucking in various positions.

"This one is very old. It must be about the village we're going to tomorrow," said Mimi, focusing on that pervy plate. She explained that Nidong Village was once the headquarters for the local sex industry; the provincial governor made frequent visits to its brothels back in some dynasty or other. I stood extra close to her, our hips touching, as she explained the writing on the plate. The scent of her skin cream was mixed with her own heat--was that a faint whiff of her sex? I was dying to taste her. She was obviously fascinated by the different things the figures were doing on the plate. Maybe she wanted to ask a question or two of her teacher? I looked into those big eyes studying the plate, while in an effort to point something out, I carelessly dragged my hand over her tight young belly, which was just exposed at the midriff. To get down those shorts...it needed to happen soon, whether she was my student or not. I knew the bus-humping incident was not just a stolen moment as her eyes met mine: she wanted me.

"Nidong?" I asked. "Isn't that the same 'ni' that means 'your'? And in English, 'dong' has a special meaning."

"What does it mean?" asked Mimi, leaning in conspiratorially.

"You filthy man!" cried Ginny, who'd sneaked up behind us. We must've looked pretty suspicious back there. "Stop corrupting our student."

I gave Ginny a grin and said, "It means 'didi'!" Mimi instantly colored with embarrassment, and laughed her fool head off.

"Yes," she said among gasping laughter, "We shall tour your pee kneesh tomorrow." She hadn't had a drop of the whiskey, but you'd never have known it.

The rain was driving down and showed no sign of letting up. We weren't too interested in exploring the darkening streets of Jingdezhen in that weather, and all the taxis had predictably disappeared. We were tired from the travel, so we agreed to stay in, grab dinner in the hotel restaurant, maybe have a few more drinks, and hit the sack. The girls went up to the room to shower and change while I ordered the local specialties, deep-fried goldfish and squab stew, which were both a little tastier than they sound.

Surprisingly, Mimi was the first one down. Ginny must've been showering while Mimi dressed, because Ginny never would have let the girl downstairs in such a hot thing—a loose linen top that was next to transparent. She wore no bra underneath, and her dark aureoles were very pronounced. It was an awesome, awesome thing, because Chinese girls are notoriously modest in this part of the country. I greeted her warmly, saying, "On time for once," and she answered with her sexiest smile. I ordered a few cold beers in my terrible Mandarin with an eye on getting a little friendlier with my favorite student, who was showing a much sluttier side than I expected on this trip. After a little small talk about Mimi's family which I spent basically staring at her chest, Ginny put in an appearance in the tightest shirt I think she owned. Were these two sending me some sort of signal? Even better--were they competing?

The soup was served and the first of the beer opened, and we got back into that merry mood we shared on the train. Soon we were giggling and tossing entendres at each other just as before, this time punctuated by zaps of lightning. It was truly an electric night—and it seemed that nature was laughing along with us in deep, thunderous peals.

We bashed the oversized goldfish in record time, and got into a drinking game: I Never. This one's useful for getting into the deep, dark recesses of the players' sexual histories. A general statement about sex is made with the opening "I never..."—and if the statement is untrue for you, you have to drink. We all drank on Mimi's turn, never faking an orgasm (Oh-gashum! I suspected Mimi was just saying it now to make us laugh), and then on never having spent more than 15 minutes doing oral, and even never taking a finger in the ass. (It hurt like hell my first time, but when a girl slides it home and hits that prostate bump while she's jerking me off, it's worth it!) Mimi and I drank when Ginny said "I never" to frequent masturbation, which translated to more than once a day. Mimi drank on preferring oral to fucking, and Ginny drank on preferring the girl on top. I wondered if all that meant Mimi liked oral with the boy on top, so I asked in the "I never" format, and sure enough, she drank! Ginny and I both gasped at the kink behind that image...I'd expected most girls to hate that sort of 69. Naturally, Mimi drank again on never forgetting to wear her bra in front of her teachers, and again on talking about sex with relative strangers. Ginny and I had her good and juiced up by the end of that night, as we were to find out only a little later.

When we'd tired of that nonsense, I swiped a Chinese checkerboard (yes, yes, the Chinese do in fact play Chinese checkers, and I've even been lucky enough to observe a few of my students perform a real, live, spontaneous Chinese fire drill) from the front desk and we made a mess of playing at that, with each of us playing two sets of marbles. Mimi and I kept locking eyes during my attack on her pieces; this gave me a little confidence, and I managed to bring my foot out of my sandal and slip it right between her legs, since she was sitting across from me at the square-topped table. She closed her thighs around my big foot, and shifted forward, grinding her tiny pussy against it. It was great feeling the folds of her little mound up against the top of my foot. I wiggled my toes to see if she'd react, and she wiggled her butt accordingly.

I'd accidentally brushed one of Ginny's gorgeous milky-white, silky-smooth legs when I tried making contact with Mimi's funhole; Ginny had to have known something was up, because she kept looking first at me and then Mimi, turning her head as if she was the Queen sitting mid-court at Wimbledon. Despite Ginny's eagle-eye, I slowly and determinedly brought my big toe around the crotch of those shorts Mimi had on, and she obligingly cocked her hips to better receive it. As I shoved aside the bunched-up material, the pad of my toe encountered the soft, wet folds of her very pouty pussy lips, and grazing upward, a soft tuft of monkey hair. No underwear at all! I should've known by now that this hot little bitch was ready to play. I'd like to say I sank that toe into her as far as it would go, but that girl was tight! I was lucky to work the tip into that increasingly soppy slit. So we cruised along like that during the course of the game--both thrumming to that erotic beat of "floorplay."

By then I was on my sixth or seventh beer, and honestly I have no memory of the endgame or even going upstairs, with the exception of having Ginny's ripe rump fill my view. I gave it a nice, hard slap on the way up to our fifth-floor boudoir while singing some silly Chinese children's song Mimi knew. Ginny gave a loud yip of surprise with that hit, whipping around and giving me an earful of shit while rubbing that nice booty better. She forgave me as soon as it happened, and maybe even liked it a little--all girls I've ever played with secretly do. As far as I can tell, we all collapsed in our three lonely little single beds without any further incident, drunken, giggly, and full of yummy Chinese goodness and sexy stories, too drunk to fuck, ready for a long snooze under the soothing rhythm of steady rain.

That is, until I woke to hear the tell-tale wet slapping sounds of a horny girl trying to rub one out...

© 2008 The Filthy Gingers