Meimei Pt. 01

She counted for a moment and then said, "Nine."

"Woah," I said, wincing. "That's a lot."

She nodded. "My feet are so tired."

I considered her words for a moment. Then, I rose. I set a pillow on the end of the couch. Taking An Shan by the shoulders, I guided her head down to it and sat on the opposite end with her feet in my lap.

I took one and rubbed.

"Oh, that feels good. Oh, my gosh," she breathed.

I worked on her feet for about five minutes before I really took a look at An Shan.

She wore a flimsy, layered, knee-length black skirt with silver highlights. It rode up her to mid-thigh when she laid down. Her jean jacket fell open, revealing a tight white tank top that hugged the jutting mounds on her chest.

The outfit was a balance for her, I thought. It had casual sexiness, but with the jean jacket, she was able to hide her breasts.

Wow. That skirt was something.

I raised one of An Shan's feet. She let her knees bend for me, and I kneaded her calf muscle.

She gave a hum of satisfaction.

I looked up her skirt--black cotton panties with white trim along the sides. The panties were odd, almost like a bikini. There didn't seem to be leg openings. Or, not the kinds I was familiar with.

I lowered one leg and raised the other for a second look.

Strange. I could faintly make out the waistband--black, with large white lettering on it. My general impression was that An Shan's panties consisted of a thick, sporty-looking black waistband on which hung a bikini style crotch (and back, I assumed, for I had not been able to see that part). If one were looking from the side, I imagined, the only visible part of her underwear would have been that waistband.

Fuck, that's sexy.

I set her leg down. "Bet your legs are sore, too," I suggested.

"Yeah," she uttered. "Some."

I rose and sat back down on the couch, facing her on my knees. Then, I began sliding my hands from her feet to her knees and back.

Then, higher--above her knees. I massaged her lower thighs.

Higher, my hands slid under the lower hem of her skirt. The warm, smooth flesh of her legs filled my hands. I kneaded and stroked the skin.

An Shan sighed, the tail end of her utterance held in it the faintest of sensual moans.

I inched closer to her, now clearly between her lower legs. Sliding my hands around the outsides of her thighs, I rubbed the backs of her legs. My hands began behind her knees and moved upward, gaining an inch or so for every deep circle they kneaded into that silky flesh.

I stopped halfway to her ass, gliding back to the tops of her legs and continuing. Still under An Shan's skirt, I worked my fingers higher until the tips found the tops of her thighs, where her legs began to taper down. My hands slid back to her knees. Pushing the pad of my thumbs against her, I drove back up, under the skirt. My fingertips reached until they touched the waistband of her panties before I drew them back to the tender valley of skin where An Shan's legs joined her pelvis.

My fingers followed the line, first out, then in--in until they, again, on her panties. This time, however, it was the crotch. My fingertips nudged underneath before drawing back and out from under her skirt.

An Shan, I noticed, had been holding a breath. When my fingers drew back, it released from her in a muted gasp.

I inched closer to her again--between her knees.

My hands slid to the backs of her thighs again.

An Shan raised her knees. The skirt fell to her waist, completely exposing her panties. They were as I imagined--a wide waistband and a crotch, very sporty-looking. If they made jock-straps from women, I thought, they would look like this.

Briefly stopping the massage, I took An Shan's ankles in my hands and raised them toward her. Without a word, she took them from me. Her knees fell toward her chest. Apart from those panties, her pussy lay vulnerable to anything I might choose to do.

I laid on my stomach and started to softly rub the back of her thighs and the exposed flesh around her panties. I drew her scent through my nostrils; it fed the hunger inside, but only enough to stir the desire for more.

It's a massage. It has to be a massage, I reminded myself. There must be doubt.

I slid my hands toward the center and relaxed them upon the tiny mound on the front of her panties. Rubbing small circles with the four fingers of both hands, I very, very slowly lowered my thumbs until they landed on the narrow strip of panty that covered her pussy.

With soft, mounting pressure, I pressed my thumb tips into the soft valley as if to provide the anchor to the movements of my fingers.

An Shan squeaked as she drew in a long puff of air. Now using my fingertips as the anchor, I slid one thumb up and down the crotch of her panties.

She didn't make a noise. I imagined her biting her lip and locking a gasp of breath in her lungs as she concentrated on the rough pad of the thumb that dragged along her slit.

The urge to push further stung at my heart, but I relented. My hands came away from her.

Leaning close, I kissed the inside of her left thigh. Then, the right. Inching forward, I leaned toward her pussy, and I kissed the crotch of her panties.

She vented another faint gasp.

I bared my teeth, opened wide my jaw, and with no more pressure than a mother cat taking her kitten by the scruff, I bit down on her and held for a moment.

She sucked in a breath.

My tongue urged forward until it met her panties, and I undulated it there, feeling it delve through the cotton and between her labia.

An Shan, with her entire pussy clutched in my teeth, hummed a note of feminine pleasure so sweet that my heart lurched in my chest. A grunt burst from me.

Releasing her, I glanced at the wet spot on her panties either I or both of us had made. Pushing myself out from between her thighs was like abandoning the diamond mother lode in a collapsing mine.

But, I did it.

I rose to my knees over her, and An Shan released her ankles. Her eyes darted to the erection stretching my shorts. They returned to my face, and she thanked me for the massage.

She sat up, turning and putting her feet on the floor. She pulled her skirt over her knees. Her eyes flitted. Twice they glanced sideways at my erection.

"Meimei?"

She didn't speak.

I'm not sure what then possessed me when on so many previous occasions I had taken only what was offered. I rose form the couch. Walking over and standing directly in front of her, my erection jutted towards her luridly from my shorts. I nudged An Shan's knees with my leg.

She spread them, and I stepped in between. Without waiting, I pulled my shorts and underwear down to my thighs. My cock fell forward, wobbling and pointing at An Shan's face, separated from it only by a hand's width.

She scooted back a fraction on the couch, but her eyes remained fixed. Settled, she studied it. Her head moved from one side to the other. Her eyes scanned up and down the length. Once, her hand rose from her lap as if she considered grasping the shaft. Her fingers hovered in the air for a moment before returning to her lap. An Shan bent underneath to examine my balls. When she finished, she drew herself up and gazed closely upon the tip as if committing it to memory.

Nervous energy filled me. I was like an out-of-breath thief hiding from an insanely close cop. Trying to remain quiet only made the heart race all the faster and the need for air more urgent.

An Shan glanced up at me and back down at my cock. "It's so I can--not to--I just want--." She didn't finish.

I didn't want to ask her for a blowjob, but seeing her face so near my erection, I realized I didn't need to ask. A hard cock in a woman's face was already asking the question. Mine hovered before As Shan like an exclamation point, yelling, "Do something!"

Plus, there were only two possible outcomes. An Shan would either move away or act. There was really no middle ground. No woman, with a hard cock in her face, is just going to remain there--start doing her nails or reading a fucking book. At some point, the erection would become like a massive accusing finger.

An Shan placed her hands on the couch and pushed herself closer to me. Settling in, she leaned toward the tip. At a distance the width of a finger, she opened her mouth.

She stopped. Her eyes suddenly rose to mine. Her mouth began to shut, but she spoke. "Can I give it a massage?"

Unable to speak, I nodded.

"I'll--may I use my mouth?"

I heard myself utter, "Yeah." My voice sounded as if I were in some oxygen deprivation tank.

An Shan's hands rose and softly clutched my thighs. Her head eclipsed my view of the tip.

My penis was inside her mouth. Her lips clamped down in a soft, wet embrace. Back and forth her lips towed over the front half.

I let out a soft sigh.

She looked at me.

I never thought An Shan could be more beautiful than when I watched her rehearsal for Berklee. I may have been right about that, but seeing her suck on my penis was a stunning, full-body-electrifying vision.

I groaned. My head tipped backward. I gulped at the air. I had to see her again. Bending to the side, I watched her lips slide down the shaft.

"Oh, shit, Meimei," I said. The words just fell from me.

Her eyes found mine.

While her head continued the slow bobbing motion, I uttered, "You're so beautiful."

My body grew warm. My cock surged inside An Shan's wet mouth. I suspected she had never done this before. So, either her instincts were good or she had been studying up. Her pace increased.

My body was like a rogue wave now. Nothing would stop it. What was warm grew hot. At first, her mouth had rendered me incapacitated and weak, now I felt strength and energy.

I gasped. I needed to tell her it was going to happen soon, but would it ruin everything?

She quickened again. Her fingers wrapped around the base of the shaft.

I grunted at the change.

Boiling energy filled my body. If I were on the bench press, I thought, I could throw an extra 45 on each side of the bar right now. Fuck, I felt powerful.

My head grew dizzy. I had to warn her. I didn't want to break the illusion, but she needed to know I was going to cum. I grunted, "Meimei."

Her head drew back. She looked at me, mouth agape. White jets of cum leaped out. The first stream slashed across her cheek. The second and much larger volley launched directly into An Shan's gasping mouth. The remainder spilled from the tip in gushes, plummeting to the floor.

Her eyes widened. Her mouth remained open, and I could see the semen on her tongue and lower lip. Her finger came up, wiped the cum from her lip. Then, panting, she lowered her face. As it sank from view, I thought I saw the hint of a smile.

I sucked air into my lungs, reeling.

She glanced down at the pool of semen underneath her.

"I'll get that mess," I gasped.

"No," she said, "you relax." She pointed to the couch.

"But...."

She pointed again, so I slumped into it.

An Shan went into the bathroom, and I heard the sink running. A minute later she returned. Her face was clean, and she brought paper towels and carpet spray. She began to clean up the semen. A few seconds into it, she paused and asked, "Did I give you a good massage?"

"Really, really good. Yes. Amazing."

She smiled and returned to spraying and blotting.

"Meimei?"

She looked up at me. Her eyes seemed to flash a warning.

"Have you ever given a--a massage like that before?"

She relaxed. A moment later, An Shan shook her head.

"Did you like it?" I asked.

She nodded, unsuccessfully suppressing a grin.

"What about the...?" I didn't finish. When I glanced at the floor, she did, too.

Then, she said, "It's messy. Next time, I will definitely do things differently at the end."

Next time? My mind struggled to contain that thought while she resumed her work, nearly finishing.

"An Shan," I said. Using her given name made her instantly stop, put down everything, and look at me. "Xie xie." (Thank you)

"Bu keqi." (You're welcome)

It isn't easy translating "bu keqi" into English. Literally, it means "don't be as a guest," implying "hey, you're family." It's an appropriate and polite response to the Chinese thank you--"xie xie." Yet, I had expected An Shan to respond with "mei shenme"-- (it's nothing).

When she said, "Bu keqi," I smiled. The words carry all kinds of connotations, not the least of which being that her service to me had delighted her. Even beyond that, however, was the fact that those words suggested closeness.

As a child and early teen, An Shan used "bu keqi" to say "you're welcome" to me, which would be appropriate in a Chinese family for a younger sister to say to an older brother. But, once I lost my way of family duty, she started using "mei shenme" instead. It was a subtle stroke. "Mei shenme" connotes outsider status. I had been dishonoring the family, so she would no longer give me the respect of someone close to her heart.

Her "bu keqi" was a simple, artful way of restoring my place in her eyes.

She probably saw in my expression the recognition of her gesture. We smiled at one another.

When An Shan finished cleaning the carpet, she yawned, saying, "I think I'm going to go to bed."

I did not want her to go. I said, "I'll come."

She stopped, waiting for me to say the right thing, it seemed.

"Just--I'll rub your back. Maybe it will help you sleep."

She smiled. "Okay."

I followed her into the bedroom. She didn't turn on the light. I heard the jean jacket fall to the floor. I heard her arms sliding out of something--her bra, I guessed. It hit the ground. I heard her slide something down her legs, and then I heard her climb onto the bed and lay down.

I crawled into the bed on the other side, slowly making my way until I felt her.

I found her on her side, back to me, on top of her sheets and comforter.

I laid beside and about a foot behind her. I could smell her hair--floral and sweet. Reaching out, my hand touched her back and I made a sweep of it with my fingertips. She still wore her tank top, but the bra had come off.

I scratched over her shirt for a minute or so before sliding my hand underneath the lower hem. It clung to her body, leaving little space for me to work. I tugged the lower hem upwards.

An Shan let me pull the shirt up to her shoulders, and then once it was there, she slipped completely free of it. She tossed it over the side of the bed and snuggled into her pillow.

I resumed the back scratch. My eyes adjusted to the light. At first, I could only see her body's silhouette--a wonderful feminine slope from her shoulder to her waist, and then the perfect curving rise of her hip. Later, I began to make out places on her skin--contours and slopes not in shadow. I was close behind her, but I glanced down to see her panties--the wide band and the white-bordered, scant swath of black cotton that hugged her ass in a sharp vee.

My fingertips gradually shifted from scratching to feeling.

Her skin was warm and tight, but still yielding. That almost electrical hum that seemed to always appear where we touched skin to skin returned. I don't know how my hands felt on her body, but I know her body felt perfect in my hands.

Feeling became rubbing, and my hand went everywhere on her back, shoulders, and the back of her neck. With nowhere new to feel above her panties, I slid my hand down into the concave curve of her lower back and then up over the bulbous arc of her butt.

I grasped one of her ass cheeks, half of my hand had panty, the other half, skin. I easily slid my hand under the fabric, kneading her ass, feeling the thick flesh in my fingers. I released. Then, I took hold of the other half and massaged it.

An Shan aired a moaning sigh. Again, I had the thought that I never wanted to let go. It felt too perfect for my hand. Then, I remembered her breasts.

I let go of her ass.

Reminding myself that I needed to maintain some kind of plausible deniability as to the sexual nature of my touches, I continued the massage. Starting on her hip, I slid over it and down toward her tummy.

At the same time, An Shan and I scooted together, and my erect front jabbed and slid up her bottom.

An Shan was fairly skinny, so my hand slid across a flat, taut belly. I dipped down to her panties and rose up, over her navel, making circles and rubbing tenderly.

In my imagination, I pictured An Shan's breasts. Excitement rippled through me as my hand wove up towards them. When the flesh finally filled my fingers, and I did not believe it. I slid my hand toward the other one. When it, too, loaded my palm and fingers, I hesitated.

Was this even possible?

Was the darkness playing tricks on me?

My mouth fell open, but nothing came out. All of the awestruck curses springing into my mind remained unspoken. Large was not the word. Copious, maybe better served. And brimming.

I began to massage in earnest, getting a sense of An Shan's nipples. More swear words darted across my thoughts. I had only the vaguest sense of the areolae, but the nipples, I comprehended. Gently pinching one, my first thought was of a circular candy of the type you might find in a box of chocolates.

An Shan held her breath when I pinched her nipple. When I released, she sighed.

The urge to unleash myself upon her body was like a hard tapping on the forehead. I desired every part of her, and I needed all of her now, instantly. I felt like how An Shan probably felt when fresh copies of new sheet music, a song she knew and adored, lay open before her on the rack.

These were tits that demanded touching and squeezing, nipples that begged to be licked and sucked. But, I had to remember to keep it a massage, so I moved up, over her breasts to her upper chest, neck, and shoulders.

And there were other places on her body to rub.

I ran my fingers through An Shan's thick, soft hair a few times. After, I slid my hand down her breasts, across her tummy, and to the top of her thigh. I caressed the impossibly silky skin of her leg a few times, and then I curled fingers between her thighs.

She rolled to her back, and her legs spread just enough to grant me access. I rubbed on top of her panties, rolling over the little mound up to the waistband.

An Shan sighed.

I slipped a finger under the waistband and pulled, sliding my finger from one hip to the other, easing them down in increments. She raised her body, and I pulled the panties over her hips to her feet and slipped them off.

Reaching down, I rubbed her calves, slowly moving upwards. The sound of An Shan's breathing--more shallow and tentative--clued me into her anticipation and excitement. Soon, I finished with her lower legs and thighs, and my fingers glided through a strip of soft pubic hairs.

An Shan drew breath and held it when my fingers bent down between her legs and over her pussy. Using the pads of my fingers, I rubbed the area.

She moaned.

I let my middle finger slide through her labia. Her body lubricated my digit. My wet fingertip drew soft circles around her clit.

An Shan gasped.

I sat up and drew my finger free. Bending over her middle, I kissed her pubic hair. Then, I kissed the inside of her thigh on one side and then the other. I waited a moment, and then I put my lips on her pussy, kissing deeply.

I drew back. Crawling over her legs, I laid down between them on my stomach. Then, I urged my face forward until I was nestled against her.

My mind frantically searched for some excuse to do it again. I knew she had called hers a "massage," but for whatever reason, I didn't want to use the same language. I wanted my own code word. Nothing came to mind, but I spoke. The words spilled from me before I had the chance to consider them more carefully.

I muttered, "I like how it tastes. I want more."