Dr. Martin's Treatise on Asian Women

The forty-year-old turned and smiled at me. Her long almost prehensile tongue extended its tip lightly tracing the length of Sirikit's cunt positioned immobile just in front of her face. Each pass of the tongue opened the cunt lips and further exposed the Thai's clit. Sirikit's body shivered from the slow sensual licking. Thuyet increased the speed of her tonguing enjoying the feeling as Sirikit unsuccessfully tried not to respond. Deep guttural grunts announced Sirikit's coming, and as it had done previously Thuyet's long skilled fingers invaded her trapped opponent's slit to drag a follow-up strong orgasm from her.

From my vantage point, it was bizarre. When she came Sirikit's body shook uncontrollably and the black strap-on she still wore fucked the sofa as her body contorted and thrashed, controlled like a puppet by Thuyet. She came regularly, reaching, then surpassing the number of times that she had made Thuyet cum. The Vietnamese didn't stop even when I told her three hours had passed and she had won. She didn't even stop when Sirikit convulsed and slid into unconsciousness but simply drew another orgasm from the inert body.

It was worth my money. Well not my money, the universities, but you know what I mean.

Finally, she stopped and removed the strap-on off the crumpled body that lay on the floor and put it on. She draped Sirikit over the sofa armpiece and slowly, relentlessly, triumphantly fucked the arse of the continually moaning, sobbing, semi-orgasming Thai woman, every so often reaching with one hand to play with Sirikit's nipples or clit till she came another time. Tiring, she spread the younger woman's legs wider so she could drive the weapon deeper, then reached to stimulate her clit so Sirikit orgasmed as Thuyet's weapon continually assaulted her arse.

When Sirikit recovered it was to see the older Vietnamese opening her cunt lips and unleashing a torrent of victory piss on her. The final words she heard as Thuyet and I left the room was Thuyet saying, "Close the building door on the way out, loser."

I was hooked for life. I had never seen anything like this and showered financial favours on Thuyet, not my money of course but that hidden in various Department spending accounts. I introduced a sexfight between the last two on the KPI monthly list to determine who was to be retrenched. Thuyet responded by deliberately finishing last or second last so that she could sexfight in front of me, and then suggesting that the best two replacement candidates should be tested by her while I watched, with the best getting the job.

It was inevitable. Within six months Thuyet was my PA at work and live-in partner, and I started to learn about Vietnamese culture. I had always had the gift for picking up languages, and I discovered I agreed with my favourite novel book character Harry Flashman when he said about the Indian servant he had purchased, "However, I put her to other good uses. In between bouts, we would talk, for she was a great chatterbox, and I learned more of the refinements of Hindi from her than I would have done from any teacher. I give the advice for what it is worth: if you wish to learn a foreign tongue properly, study it in bed with a native girl."

I was introduced to a new world. I found that Vietnamese women placed a great emphasis on sensuality, femininity and being proud in being judged as a better woman. Even factory workers or women sewing at home on low piece rates were fashion-proud and would not even go to the supermarket without wearing full makeup, painted nails, high heels, and modern clothes. They thought nothing of spending to look good.

An invitation to a wedding was a chance to show off to other women, and most would be wearing revealing halter necks or translucent tops and dresses with the most exaggerated slits that the other Asian 'normal housewives' would be too embarrassed to wear in public. Older women did everything to maintain their sexuality, before reluctantly finally accepting and dressing as a respected elder. One woman may be doing manual labour picking vegetables at a market garden, the other a brain surgeon, but if at a function the first mentioned looked better she was the better woman.

I attended gambling nights held in disused warehouses where both men and women gambled on the contests. I remember my first such event which began with warm-up events to allow the crowd to enter and settle. Thai bargirls brought over for the event used their cunts to swallow and regurgitate razorblades, smoke cigarettes, and drain full cans of beer through straws. Next, the preliminary events began with a four-woman round-robin sexfight that was surprisingly won by a North Vietnamese Hanoi import who used her short muscular body and powerful legs to trib and finally sexually humiliate a local Vietnamese champion in the final, much to the crowd's anguish. A forty-one-year-old Vietnamese, TuThoa, won a dildo contest against five others coming first, second, first and first in the four sections for length and thickness in both cunt and arse. After a thirty-minute break, the main event, a sexfight for a title began, and the half-hour gave time for final bets to be laid. I can't recall the names or the winner, but I remember I loved it.

I learnt that sexfighting origins lay in the betting that occurred at many Vietnamese parties where couples competed at the same time with each wife attempting to make the other's husband cum first. Because of their lack of English, the Vietnamese boat refugees could not participate in gambling at the races or TAB yet still needed to gamble. After some drinks, sexfights between women would be arranged, and bets would be laid. Apart from these betting matches, I have watched sisters compete for a boyfriend, women fight for a job, or settle insults or putdowns. Sometimes these were held behind closed doors, but the vast majority would be settled in a crowded lounge room.

I was told sexfighting was prevalent here in Oz after the first boat arrivals as although there were more men than women, there were more women than rich Vietnamese men. Only the best would get a rich man. Later men who had left their families in Vietnam to make the dangerous boat trip had become settled. They wanted to bring their family here but had acquired a woman here. To bring their kids they had to bring the whole family including the wife, so the wife and mistress fought for a new home or Government housing. Unfortunately, we are now in the third generation of Australian Vietnamese and western culture has diminished the latest generation's love of sexfighting.

But I digress, so back to my life story. For four years Thuyet held sway, undefeated by any staff or student, as she had suggested to me and I readily agreed, that once a month she sexfight the best student challenger with the student being guaranteed a university job after their degree if they won. But time waits for no man, or in this case, Vietnamese woman. A twenty-year-old Chinese, Fu Jie, studying for an interpreter's job qualification defeated her. To make sure of the results I wanted eventuating, I had given Thuyet extra chances in case of an upset or bad luck, by making the contest a best of three events. Furthermore, the likelihood of a Thuyet win was bolstered by the fact that overseas students 99% of the time had never sexfought.

The first event was a standard first-to-three cum contest and despite it being her first sexfight the Chinese won it three cums to two. The result could easily have gone the other way since she came five seconds after Thuyet's losing third. I put it down to luck as they started the second bout, an eating contest, again first to extract three cums. Fu Jie was incredible: she absorbed Thuyet's tonguing and in fact, seemed to be enjoying it while her snake-like tongue probed deeply into the Vietnamese's slit as her teeth teased her clit. Three times Thuyet shuddered, groaned and came. She had lost so badly that I couldn't cheat and use my discretionary powers. She had been comprehensively beaten two zip, and there was no need for a third contest.

Fu Jie looked at me. "If I beat the bitch in the third, then can I stop my studies and take her PA job? If she wins then she wins the entire contest." I threw her a double dildo. Both women arranged their legs in a V and inserted their part of the double dildo. Thuyet's face was filled with hope. It was soon dashed. Fu Jie treated her like a beginner. She easily overpowered Thuyet's cunt muscle grip on her half of the double dildo and drove it in and out of the Vietnamese effortlessly. She could have ended it any time but prolonged it and prolonged it just to break Thuyet mentally. Finally, she drove the double dong deep, relaxed her vaginal muscles, moved her hips back regripped the dong further back on its shaft and then drove the newly exposed section into Thuyet. She repeated the manoeuvre and slid off leaving three-quarters of the double dong embedded in Thuyet's cunt.

She knelt astride Thuyet with her cunt over the loser's face and raised her hips and gestured to me. I knew what she wanted. As Harry Flashman said in the novels I mentioned earlier, "Unless you are the kind who falls in love -- which I've never been - you take your tumbles when you have the chance, and the more the better." Thuyet was getting older, and Fu Jie was the future. I took the Chinese student doggystyle inches above Thuyet's face with Fu Jie holding the Vietnamese's face so she had to watch. Aroused by the events in my office I came very strong and long as did Fu Jie.

But Fu Jie wasn't finished. She lowered her dripping cunt onto Thuyet's face and gloated, "Eat me to orgasm, bitch and taste your man's cum for the last time. It's mixed with mine, so it tastes better."

I thought I had seen everything in the last few years, but the nineteen-year-old showed me something new. She knelt astride Thuyet riding her face as the Vietnamese ate her swallowing my and Fu Jie's cum. She reminded me of a young Lucy Lui: 5 ft. 3 slim, pert 32A tits, attractive face with prominent cheekbones and alluring eyes and straight hair. She writhed as she rode the Vietnamese, then stiffened, screamed, raised her hips and squirted cum. It rose in an arc and then splattered on my desk at least a metre away. I had read about it but now I had seen a woman squirt.

My life was established. I had my rotating staff, increased to thirty, later increased by another four with four casual student employees. It wasn't like Charlie Sheen and Two And A Half Men, with interchangeable, perfect-bodied, bottle-blonde long teased hair, big-titted, mini-skirted clones. I had diversity within my Asian staff. I had employees from eight different countries, though Vietnamese were the most prolific and experienced in sexfighting. Ages ranged from 18 to 48, and bodies varied from slim to stocky.

One 43-year-old Japanese was ugly, thick and stocky and an ex-JAV performer and introduced me to BDSM and I had JAVs filmed in the AV department using our willing Japanese students. The same storylines were there as from the Japanese studios: incest, magic mirrors, bondage, clocks that stopped time, anchorwomen, detective inspectors etc. We put them on the internet from university servers for free with censored mosaiced viewing, or they could be purchased non-censored with all funds going to an arm's length account of mine. A middle-aged, solid Filipina introduced me to catfights and accompanied me to The Melbourne Filipina Wives Club as my "wife" where I watched their inter-wife contests and participated in the orgies there.

The timing was perfect. I had read the winds, trade with China was becoming popular and I was the expert on Asia. As well as my university work, I became a high-paid Government consultant and advisor. I was one of those nodding heads you see behind a politician when he makes some bland announcement, sounding like he is Moses descended from the mountain with the ten commandments. I was sent to China accompanied by my young Personal Assistant Fu Jie who had quickly shown to my staff and Asian students she was a sexfighter a class above Thuyet. My government brief overseas was to facilitate the behind-the-scenes trade deals that the politicians could then announce in person on TV as though they had done all the work.

In 1985 Fu Jie and I sat opposite some Chinese business tycoon and his 27-year-old mistress in a cubicle in the dining room of the super luxury Grand Hyatt in Shanghai which crowned the prestigious 88-storey Jin Mao Towe. He was working his way through a blue label bottle of Johnnie Walker provided by me, ie read the Australian taxpayer. As I had done at many previous meetings with others and using my newly acquired Mandarin I enquired if he was a gambling man, Fu Jie repeated it in Shanghai dialect as she spoke Mandarin, Shanghai and Cantonese. His eyes lit up and he reminisced about winning at Melbourne's Crown Casino.

Following the formula that would lead to sexfighting, I undid the halter neck top of Fu Jie's cocktail dress and bared one of her tits. "$5000 if your woman's nipple can grow larger than my woman's." His hard-faced 27-year-old whore practically ripped off her skimpy top to flaunt her one-inch finger-thick monsters and sat back sneering. Fu Jie had no hope of matching those, but she tried. I'll grant her that.

She massaged and pinched hers and they grew larger, but not enough. She stood in our private, partitioned, dining enclave, shimmied out of her dress and reached down for her slit and fingered herself to a climax with one hand while the other abused her nipple. Cum squirted out as she came and incredibly her nipples lengthened further. The Chinese tycoon's mistress stripped, walked to Fu Jie and pressed her tits against her. She held one of her firm 32B tits and moved it, so their nipples lay length to length. It was obvious that hers reached Fu Jie's skin while Fu Jie's did not reach her areolae. She smiled and replicated Fu Jie's clit work, withdrew her fingers, and showed us her cream-coated fingers before using them to stroke her nipples. I was incredulous as they not only lengthened but thickened. I handed over $5000 to the smiling Chinese businessman. "Do you want to match her against mine to see the better woman for $50 000," he said?

"Yes he does," Fu Jie hissed.

While waiting at the Elevator to go to my suite, The Chinese businessman laughed and turned to me. "You have lost your money. My woman, Yang Yuchun, competed in the last All Asia Sexfight Championships." What the fuck? What was this Championship? I had to know more.

I found out that what he said was the truth. Yang Yuchun had explained there were 69 competitive contests (obviously the number was selected for a reason) and she and Fu Jie would compete using number one. They settled into 69 and set out on their journey to make the other cum three times consecutively without cumming themselves. At first, I thought Fu Jie was a good chance. She would win, I would get $50,000 and the Australian taxpayer would not have to fork out $50,000 for her loss. But then I realised Yang was playing with her, giving her false hope by allowing Fu Jie to make her cum 2 times only to be denied victory after a "miraculous" escape by Yang. Then after 3 hours and with the tycoon becoming bored, she extracted three in a row from Fu Jie and I handed over the taxpayer's money to the Chinese businessman and mentally noted I would document it as "bribes".

The businessman left for his pleasures at the gambling tables and massage girls while over the rest of the night and the next day Yang demonstrated some of the other events winning them all. As I slowly fucked her as she used a strap-on on the defeated Fu Jie I learnt she was worried her boss was becoming bored with her after six months, he was disinterested in her sexfighting career, he only fucked for five minutes maximum. What did I do? Was I faithful to Fu Jie? After the second night, I had a new PA who wanted to be number one in the Asian sexfight circuit and Fu Jie had a new job in a Shanghai brothel.

I had a new hobby, managing Yang's rise in the Asian Sexfight championships. It was all I had ever hoped for and everything about the Asian Sexfight Championship and professional circuit can be read in a second document I will write as it is too lengthy and involved to include here.

Yang Yuchun lasted 5 years. I thought it would be forever. But out of nowhere a 35-year-old Malaysian, Junaidah Rajamani dethroned her in a battle that took five contests. Junaidah was not attractive, being small-titted, heavy-bodied and with a pock-marked face. But the newcomer from Monash Uni's Malaysian based feeder course took all five events easily to be the new PA, and when I introduced her to the All Asian Sexfight Championship and its 69 different contests she, like me was hooked. I thought she would be top three, even perhaps world champion but the high life introduced her to nose beers, and she fell victim to the white powder. Yes, the money snort deprived me of perhaps managing a world champion. Again, all my knowledge of the Asian Sexfight Championship will be in my second document.

I thought I saw Junaidah when I was walking along Elizabeth St five years ago. An emaciated, homeless druggie sat on her dirty blanket among the army of similar beggars. Our eyes met and I thought I saw a glimmer of recognition in the semi-focussed eyes. Before I could look for her tattoos for confirmation my current PA, a forty-two-year-old Indian mother Deepika Chopra's arm was around my waist dragging me and her daughter Aditi, who also had her arm around me, forward.

The mother, Deepika, was a typical middle-aged Indian, big-arsed and thick thighed with a prominent belly that measured more than her tits. What can I say? The quality of Asian pussy available to me had declined. The newest generation of Vietnamese, some now third generations was Australianised. It was Apple, K-pop and social media, not sexfighting for them. Covid had dried up the influx of Asian students. Plus, in their woke cultured, distorted, minds I was now a dirty old man, not an opportunistic pathway to a better life. Deepika was the best of a bad lot and wouldn't have made it into my staff fifteen years ago, let alone be my PA.

In some sort of acknowledgement that this was a special occasion she had discarded her normal Indian apparel of salwar kameez with its loose baggy cotton salwar trousers narrowed in at the ankles, topped by the long kameez top and dupatta scarf covering her head and drawn over her pendulous tits. On her 38C 36 42 body, she wore a mid-calf, white stretch crepe skirt, loose red blouse and white blazer that she hoped covered her belly.

Aditi, her daughter, 19 and an IT student who had picked Hindu history as an easy extra subject, wore a lemon gym bra/activewear 2 sizes too small for her 36C, torpedo-head-shaped tits, and tight leggings with a waist so low I kept looking for her abundant cunt to explode from the leggings. Needless to say, her leggings outlined her camel toe in full glorious detail. She was my new white hope (well, Indian-coloured hope) for she fucked like Thuyet, Fu Jie or Yang Yuchun and since joining my work team had gone through the other employees like a dose of salts. I had big hopes that she could bring back the past glories of my office and give me some sexfighting worth watching again.

So, to the sound of clicking high heels and the silence of my indifference I left the drug addict who could have been Junaidah behind because I and the Indian mother and daughter had four days of Easter holidays to spend at Melbourne's top hotel, Marriott. Four days of three-way fucks and watching the mother and daughter sexfight for the holy grail: the prize of PA, the leader of the pack, the top dog. Then there were the side benefits: family bragging rights, a thick Indian soft, yellow, 24-karat pure gold ankle chain to display their win. Oh, and importantly for them, the winner had the right to five solos a month with me with the loser watching. For me the result was a formality; the daughter would win and maybe the glory days of old would return.