The Vietnamese Grass-Cutter Woman

I've still got one arm around her and another caressing the silken flow of her hair; I become conscious of her bare naked back and my left hand begins to stroke down her spine and across the breadth. I lower my right hand from her head to her upper arm and stroke over the shoulder, her biceps, her elbow. I feel a slight shiver going through her body as she clings to me and I realise that the temperature's dropped in the room, the evening chill seeping in. I look at her shirt that she left on the chair and think of getting it to drape over her shoulders, but at the same time I want to touch and caress her nakedness and look at her nude body.

In fact I want to do more; I want to remove her brassiere and fondle her massive tits, feel them in the palm of my hands and experience the thrust of her nipples which I can only discern as shaded orbs behind the lace of her bra. I sit down on the settee behind me, still holding on to her as my arms slide down and rest on her hips. Looking up at her tear stained face, I reach for the bra hooks behind her and unclasp the extremities of the band. The weight of her breasts has an immediate impact on the cups as they drop and Hoa instinctively releases her hold on my shoulders and reaches for them. Still looking into her eyes, I slowly push the straps over her shoulders and let them fall along her upper arms.

She's suddenly very bashful, holding the loosened bra cups against her mammaries as the straps drop to her wrists, not willing to let them go. "Bạn có thể không thích", she murmurs with a sigh.

But I tell her softly, "I will like what I see, Hoa, I am sure because you are very beautiful. Bạn rất đẹp." And then she places her hands on my cheeks, cupping my face as the brassiere drops on to my lap. I look at her breasts and they are larger than I have ever seen on a woman as diminutive as her; they are certainly a DDD cup size and because of their weight they sag slightly. But only slightly. If they didn't, I would be sure they were false but clearly they're not. The areola have a radius of about two and a half centimetres, making them 5cm across, and centred in them are large dark thumb-sized nipples.

I stare unabashedly at her boobs barely inches from my face, my fingers gently stroking the sides and I realise that they're naturally firm despite the slight droop. There are no stretch marks or wrinkles or creases on her front; her skin is smooth and relatively fair, her body is taut with no excess fat over her abs. I slowly lean forward and push my face into the valley between the globes, breathing in a fragrant mixture of sweat and a mild deodorant as my hands wrap around her back. Moving my face slowly to one side, I let my dry lips brush gently against a nipple, marvelling at its size as it begins to harden. Keeping my mouth against her body, I swivel to the other nipple and rub my lips against the already stiffened protuberance.

I can feel the nodules, like goosebumps, erupt on the surface of her areola before I suck one teat into my mouth. I run my tongue over the nipple which is the size and ripeness of a small grape, tight and firm as I nip it gently between my teeth. When I move my mouth to her other breast and suck in the nipple, I raise my left hand and caress her right tit, rubbing my palm over the slick nipple that I just released from my lips. I can't get enough of her even though both my hands are on her naked skin and my tongue lashes her teat; I hunger for more of her as my arousal levels begin to soar.

But before I lose complete control, with her hands on my head she pushes back gently and says "Tôi có thể sử dụng phòng tắm của bạn?" with a rising intonation so I know she's asking a question. With my hands around her waist now, I look at her quizzically as I feel her fingers against my scalp, combing through my hair. She removes a hand from my head and points to my bathroom down the corridor and again says "phòng tắm?" I'm not too sure what she's saying but I think she wants to use the bathroom so I nod and let her go.

Hoa picks up her grey plastic bag and her shirt and heads to the bathroom while I continue to stare at her naked back; I'm not quite sure what I've just given permission for but she enters the guest bathroom and shuts the door behind her. I pick up my shot glass and empty the contents into the kitchen sink; after the initial taste, I have not been enjoying the drink at all, and the slight buzz it gave me seems to have long since disappeared.

Instead, I find an opened bottle of Bunnahabhain 18 Year scotch and pour myself some into a Glencairn whisky glass, add a little bit of water, and head back to the living room. Picking up my pack of cigarettes, I step out to the balcony for a smoke. The ripples on the dark waters of the lake have turned into miniature waves as a chill wind brushes the surface; the sky is overcast with dark clouds that glide across the firmament. There's a small bonfire burning a few metres down the road on the edge of the lake with three night fisherman huddled around it, their rods edged into cracks in the embankment.

Ten minutes later, I go back into the apartment and slide the glass panels shut behind me. Still feeling nippy, I switch the air conditioner on to heating; in a few more minutes the ambient temperature inside the house feels warm and cozy. I hear the bathroom door open; it's been almost 20 minutes when Hoa emerges and begins a slow walk towards me through the darkness of the unlit corridor. She's left the bathroom door slightly ajar and, against the rays of light coming from inside, I can see wisps of steam or vapour waft out. "I shower OK?" she asks, and I look at that exquisite beauty approaching me, dumbfounded once again.

I nod a reassurance that it's perfectly fine and I have no objection to her having a shower as she comes up to me, a little tremulous. Her hair is damp and she has a comb that's holding it in place around her head, a complex knot from which a few tendrils curl around her face. She's wearing a half-sleeved loose grey shirt with some lace work on it, tucked into a dark blue skirt that comes to her knees. She looks fresh and happy as she sits on the couch next to me, her head barely an inch above my shoulders. She must have a whole wardrobe and toiletries set in that plastic bag, because she smells divine up close; even has a light shade of lip gloss on.

There's a deep roll of thunder outside and I figure that it's one of those freak storms that's brewing, despite January being a dry season. Hoa is again saying things to me in Vietnamese which I don't understand, and I look at her wonderful smiling eyes and say "You do know that I haven't a clue what you're talking about, right?" She just hangs on to my left arm, fingertips digging into my muscles, and presses herself against me. I reach out to the low table on my other side and take hold of the whiskey tumbler, bringing it to my lips. The mild single malt goes down smoothly as I savour the woodspice finish.

She takes the glass from my hands and puts her lips to the rim, taking a very delicate sip. She returns it to me with a grimace and wipes her lips by rubbing them against the sleeve of my shirt; there's a faint pink mark on the glass where she sipped. The woman gets up and goes to my kitchen area where she finds the bottle of vodka, pours herself a two-finger shot and opens the fridge to get some ice into the glass. I reach for the audio remote and turn on the music system. There's a CD lying in the tray and the strains of light classical jazz waft through the speakers, adding to the ambient warmth of the lamplit room. I look at her sashaying back to the settee, the skirt swaying with the movement of her hips and the thrust of her boobs taut against her shirt.

As she comes in front of me, I reach out my arms and wrap them around her waist pulling her between my thighs as I sit with my legs apart. She giggles and looks down at my face as she takes a sip from her shot glass. The swell of her breasts, straining the buttons of her shirt, are almost directly in front of my face. She has one hand on my shoulder, against the nape of my neck, her fingers playing with stray curls at the back of my head. There's a more intense look on her face now as she takes another sip and peers down at me over the rim of her glass.

My hands move down behind her, fingers trailing the ridges of her spine under the shirt till I feel the waistband of her A-line skirt. Caressing her briefly around the waist and hips, my hands come down to her buttocks and I can feel the ridge of her panties under the polyester dress. Her arse is firm as I clench my fingers; massaging her derriere, I look up into her eyes and sense a lustful arousal in her that possibly matches my own. I can feel a stirring in my groin as my penis begins to grow within the confines of my denims, my hands moving a little more feverishly over her taut behind. I breathe in the delicate fragrance of shower gel and perfume that she has used while in the bathroom .

After a while, she bends her knees till her left hand can place the shot glass on a low centre table behind her. Then both her hands are behind my neck, her fingers combing the locks of hair over my collar. As I look at her face in the subdued lighting, for the first time I notice slight signs of ageing; there are delicate crow's feet around her eyes and a slight sag to the eyelids. These are so difficult to determine on oriental faces but having been in the country for as long as I have, and seeing young women of all ages, I hazard to put Hoa's age at a few years more than mine. Maybe 42 or 43.

The maturity sits well on her face but her body is that of a much younger woman, and certainly so is her demeanour. Her fingers are touching the skin on my face, rubbing against the blue-black shadow of my bristle as they trace across my jawline and chin. There's no levity in either of us as sexual desire now flows through our bodies and minds. I bring my hands to the front and reach up for the second button of her shirt, deftly uncoupling it. The top button is already undone and now I can see the firmly held breasts causing a deep cleavage between the circular globes above the lacy black brassiere. She's obviously changed her underwear as well after her shower.

I undo all the buttons on her shirt front and extract the shirttail from the waistband of her skirt. Pushing the collars off her shoulders, I pull the shirt off her body as she straightens her arms behind her so the sleeves can slip off. I place the garment beside me on the couch and put my hands behind her, drawing her one step forward so I can bury my face between her breasts. She reaches behind her back and unclasps the bra, then extricates her arms from within the straps and drops the undergarment on top of her shirt beside me. Clearly, there's a craving in both of us that needs to be fulfilled.

My hands go to her boobs and I waste little time before holding one up and wrapping my mouth around her nipple. Another hand plays with the second massive tit, fingers vehemently rubbing the teat as I open my mouth wide to suck in as much of her breast as I can. My tongue is lashing the solid protuberance and I hear the woman groan as her fingers clutch at the thickness of my hair. Her hips seem to move forward involuntarily as she tries to press herself against my chest.

With my mouth still drawing in a nipple, I place both my hands on her arse again and knead the muscles in her rump. Now desperate to feel more of her skin, I push my hands under her skirt and rub up from behind her knees and along the back of her thighs. A soft groan escapes her throat as she throws her head backwards when my hands touch the soft crotch panel of her panties and press against her genitalia. I continue to run my fingers along the highly erogenous zone at the back of her thighs, occasionally putting pressure when my hands reach her crotch.

After a while I bring one hand to her front and rub a finger over her panties, pressing against her pudenda. For some reason I am surprised at the thick cushion of pubic hair that I can feel under the panties as I'm rubbing at the front of her crotch; perhaps when I saw her smooth bare armpits, I had just assumed that she would have shaved her crotch as well. Highly aroused and excited at the thought of her bush, I hook the fingers of both my hands into the elastic band of her panties and draw them down past her hips. She lifts her feet one after the other as I remove her undies and let them lie on the floor.

I'm still sitting on the couch with Hoa standing between my outspread thighs, my face is buried in the huge pillows of her bosom, my hands are once again on her arse squeezing her buttocks - basically, I'm getting into a frenzy and I don't really want to do that. I want to pleasure this woman gently, titillate her to the heights of passion, make love to her in a less animalistic way. So I pause!

I push my head away from her chest, remove my hands from her behind and place them on her hips over the skirt. Then I draw her down to sit beside me, reaching out for both our drinks and hand the vodka to her. She looks a little stunned at this sudden manoeuvre on my part so I lean into her on my side and kiss her gently on her lips. Placing my whisky tumbler on the arm rest, I remove my shirt so that she doesn't feel overly exposed in comparison to my being fully clothed. The temperature inside the room is comfortably warm but I drape my shirt over her bare shoulders and draw her against me while taking a sip of malt.

She tips her glass upwards as the liquid drains into her mouth and places it back on the centre table. Then saying something that sounds like "Bạn thật quyến rũ", she leans into me and places her lips on my chest, dragging her mouth across the slightly hairy surface till she finds one of my nipples. My skin tingles as I feel the tip of her tongue circle around the tiny protuberance, little electric currents running through my body. I place my right hand on her back and run my fingers gently across the expanse, from the nape of her neck down to her waist, feeling the woven fabric of my chambray shirt.

I can smell the freshness in her hair which is now only a little damp; I pull out the small comb which holds the knotted tresses in place on top of her head and let the silken curtain fall loose. The comb falls out of my hand and drops somewhere behind her on the settee. I can feel the slightly moist ends of her hair like a delicate brush painting over my chest as they fall around her face. With her mouth still on one of my nipples, she places her fingers of her right hand over the other one and flicks it to a minuscule erection. The sensations coursing through my body are of sheer pleasure as I tilt my head backwards on the backrest of the settee and absorb the delightful tingle of her lips and tongue playing on my chest.

I take another sip of the Bunnahabhain and replace the glass on the armrest before combing my fingers through her hair. The rumble of thunder outside is a lot louder now and occasional flashes of lightening spark up the sky, blazes of iridescence lighting up the room. The enveloping sound of midnight jazz in the room is slowly dissipating and being taken over by the roll of thunder outside as the dark nimbus clouds approach this side of the lake.

Behind the silken curtain of her hair, I feel Hoa's mouth begin to inch lower on my chest and approach my abdomen. At the same time, her hand moves away from my left nipple and I sense the delicate touch of her fingertips trace a line to my navel and stomach. The shirt I placed on her back is beginning to slide off to one side so I hold it in place to keep her covered. Her breasts hang heavy and I feel their weight move from my stomach to my denim covered crotch as her head moves lower. Blood courses through my veins, engorging my phallus to an uncomfortable girth within the constriction of my underwear and jeans.

I continue to rub gently over the shirt but finally let it slip off her body and fall to the carpeted floor in front of the sofa. My palm glides across the smooth surface of her back and I feel the now familiar ridge of her spine as I run my fingers along its length. After a while I can feel her hand over the burgeoning erection in my jeans; she feels the thickness and the coiled fury inside, gripping its width and clamping her fingers over it. Meanwhile, her lips now hover around my belly button and I feel the tip of her tongue probe in and around it. She uses her fingernails to stroke the rock hard rigidity of my cock under the denim, provoking my penis to a state of solid tumescence. After another minute or so, I know she has her fingers at the button undoing the waistband of my jeans before pulling down the zipper.

This beautiful grass-cutting Vietnamese labourer is still sitting on the settee by my side, feet on the ground, and bent over sideways with her hands and face over my crotch. She shifts a little further away to the side and uses both her hands to push my denims over my rump as I raise myself a few inches off the sofa. When she has them down to my thighs, I use my hands to push them further down my legs and Hoa bends her back lower so she can take them off my feet. She picks up the denims from the floor, roughly folds it and places it behind her in the corner of the couch.

She moves back along the seat towards me till her breasts are pressed against my arm and chest; then raises herself and places one knee on the settee and straightens up enough so she can place her mouth on mine. She starts gently, her mouth flitting all around my face; her touch feels like tender flower petals brushing against my skin as her fingers caress my jawline. I wrap my arms around her, place one hand at the back of her head and return her kisses with an ardent passion that's been simmering for a while now. She opens her mouth and sucks on my tongue as I slip it past her lips; then she pushes her tongue into my mouth and coils it sensuously all around.

The palm of my right hand is splayed on her back, feeling the bare skin as it glides smoothly all over. I reach lower and feel the band of her skirt and then the taut swell of her hips and her buttocks. I reach for the hem of her skirt and draw it up towards her waist so I can run my fingers over her arse, having already removed her panties earlier. As I clasp one buttock and hook the ends of my fingers into the crevice separating the two, she lifts her other foot off the ground and places it to the left of my thighs. She's now got her knees resting on the sofa, on either side of my flanks, and those glorious breasts suspended over my torso.

With her mouth still on mine, she reaches down with one hand and slips it under the waistband of my briefs as her fist coils around my huge phallus. I can sense her thumb rub over the pre-cum that has seeped out of the tip of the helmeted glans. She strokes the stiffness, tracing the cord of its dorsal vein before pulling it out of my underwear and flattening the full eight inches along my lower abdomen. I take my hands away from her back and down to my hips, pushing off the Emporio Armani briefs beyond my knees and manipulating my feet out of them.

Her pussy is sodden and I can feel the soaking wetness against my cock, just above the point where my manhood meets the scrotum. I push my hand to her genitalia, trying to edge a finger into her cunt but am unable to as she fuses her labial lips to the thickness at the base of my shaft. Instead, my fingers encounter the mass of forested pubic hair that grows thick in a rich triangular mat that tapers from her lower abdomen to above the clitoris and all around her swollen outer labia. I let my fingertips comb through the jungle as she deftly glides along the full length of my cock, from testicles to glans and back, not yet ready to let me enter her.