The Vietnamese Grass-Cutter Woman

Her breasts are heavy and I keep a light grip on them so I can still feel their weight as they swing against my palms, taut nipples brushing against the inside of my hands. I can also feel the tight grip her vaginal entrance has around the girth of my shaft, slightly inelastic perhaps because I don't think the woman is promiscuous and sexually indulgent. Or perhaps I feel the tightness of her grip because of the huge diameter of my penis and the fact that I am not sheathed in a condom. I straighten back, releasing her breasts which start to sway feverishly once again, and plant my hands on her arse.

I can feel the turbulence of the boiling cauldron inside me; I try and hold back for some more time but realise I'm too far gone. Not knowing what Hoa's views are of my cumming inside her, I grip the base of my shaft very tightly and extract myself from her vaginal canal and get ready to release myself on her buttocks and her arse. "Noooooooooo! Hjjer. Inside me, please", she says frantically, "bên trong tôi. Please!", she begs but it's too late for that.

I'm still pinching the base of my cock and time seems to be moving in ultra slow motion as I see her twist around and fall to the floor on her arse, facing me. Her huge boobs swing like a pendulum in slo mo once before resting on her chest, nipples dark and proudly jutting forth. Her legs are spread apart on the carpeted floor, ankles on either side of my knees, she begins to reach out for my cock just as the the first explosion erupts out of my urethra. Blood rushes to my head as my mind transcends into some cosmic zone; I can feel every nano-second of time as the molten fluid discharges along the ejaculatory duct and jets out of the top of my penis.

Hot white cum spews out in a long string that lashes past her outstretched hand and splatters against the Vietnamese grass-cutter's oval shaped face, hitting her on the left cheek. The second expulsion of semen is even more forceful and voluminous. A loud inadvertent groan rises from deep inside my lungs and escapes from my mouth as I crush my manhood in a winch-like grip of my fist. The rush of semen jets out from my glans and rises in a long arc before descending in a huge spatter on her forehead and against the curtain of black hair that frames Hoa's face.

As I pull the skin over my phallus back with the tight grip of one hand, another burst of fluid erupts and splays across her humongous tits, trickling down over the bulge and dribbling towards her cleavage. In under two seconds, my cock spews out its fourth jet of ejaculate, and by now the woman has bent forward and has her mouth open in front of my erupting cock. In one swift motion, she pushes aside my hand and clamps her own over my manhood, simultaneously enveloping my shaft with her mouth. She shoves her head down almost all the way along the length of my still massive erection even as another discharge, albeit considerably less forceful, empties into her throat.

She tugs at my cock in a quick masturbatory rhythm while her mouth sucks hard around more than half the length. My body is in spasms as I feel the liquid warmth of her mouth around me; with my palms, I grip her head and shove myself inside her as she keeps drawing cum out of my cock and swallows. Even after the last drop has escaped, she continues to stimulate my penis and suck hard as her tongue snakes around the highly sensitive glans. With her other hand, she cups my testicles and massages them gently as though she's working on a pair of delicate stress balls. As the rousing adrenaline begins to dissipate throughout my body, with the last ounces of carnal energy I hold her head tight in my hands and force myself as deep into her mouth as I possibly can. The woman keeps my manhood stuffed in her mouth like that for almost twenty seconds before yanking her head back, out of breath but not gagging.

She takes my deflating cock in her hand again and rubs it against her cheeks and under her chin along her neck, the heady mixture of my semen and her saliva spreading across her face. I'm still on my knees as she continues to rub against me, occasionally purring somewhere deep in her throat. Then she places her hands on my hips, willing me down to the carpet where I begin to stretch my legs. My knees are scuffed from the friction against the carpet, and a little sore, but it feels very relaxing to lie down supine on the floor and just focus on my overcharged breathing as it slows down.

The naked grass-cutter lies down next to me and turns on her side, her head on my shoulder, her breasts scrunched against my ribs as she throws her right arm across my chest. The golden glow of the lamps in the room cast a comfortable warmth all around, and the silence is now disturbed sporadically by the deep rumble of distant thunder. The clouds have clearly crossed overhead from west to east, the storm is over. I feel Hoa snuggle up against me as she lifts her right leg and places it over my limbs. I feel the cool wetness of her sodden pussy against my hip-bone, the wet trails of cum on her boobs mix with the fine sheen of perspiration on my torso. I can even get a faint musky whiff from her hair which was splattered with one of my jets of ejaculate.

My brain is beginning to shut down and with the last remnants of thought I tell myself that I'll get up soon and go have a shower. Maybe take Hoa for another wetting together, have her soap my entire body and maybe we'll make love again. I feel my mind and body shutting down, the comfortable warmth of her voluptuous body against mine, our breathing becoming steady and synchronous. The rumble of thunder sounds even more distant as the silence settles over us. Darkness overtakes me, the golden hue of lamplight like a gentle shroud that wraps us up together in a cocoon.

When I awake, I keep my eyes shut and let my senses absorb and become aware of what's going on. As consciousness returns, I have to fight a certain element of panic because a number of invasive elements assault my faculties. First, I know that it is late because even though my eyes are shut, there is a fairly strong light that shines over my eyelids. I know I slept on the carpet facing the glass partition that slides open to my balcony, facing west, overlooking the lake. Second, I can smell toast; yes, bread toasting in a toaster. And I can hear the crackling of eggs frying in a pan.

In seconds, my heartbeat begins to calm as I figure that the beautiful grass-cutter, Hoa, who I met the previous evening, is cooking breakfast. I am about to open my eyes when I realise that there's a duvet laid out over my body and that I'm completely naked underneath it. Unsure of how bright the light will be, streaming in through the glass panels, I draw the cover over my head and breathe in the comforting smells of breakfast. I also realise that I have a hard-on, an erection that is surprisingly rampant. Without thinking, I move one hand under the blanket and grip my manhood, feeling the hefty mass in my clenched fist.

And then, suddenly my eyes flash open when I hear a lilting "Good morning, Boss. Why you sleeping on the ground?" Oh Gosh, I think, that's not the grass-cutter! That's my cook, Lien. What's she doing here on a Sunday morning? She's not supposed to be here. I shut my eyes again, pretending to still be asleep, but there's panic in my brain. It hasn't taken more than a few seconds for my erection to have disappeared completely. "Anyway, get up now, I make you breakfast. But you have to put on some clothes first", Lien says in her bright early morning voice. I open my eyes again, turn around and lie on my stomach, resting on my elbows and peering up at her in the kitchen.

I have little choice but to brazen it out now. "How do you know I don't have any clothes on?" I ask, as I notice my shirt and jeans, t-shirt and underwear, lying neatly folded in one corner of the sofa above me.

Lien smiles down at me and says, rather coyly I think, "Who do you think put that duvet over you?" And again I panic, but say nothing, as I realise that she probably saw me sleeping naked on the carpet when she came in this morning.

"Why are you here today? It's Sunday," I ask.

"Because I will not come tomorrow so I cook something now. I sent you a text message yesterday, you not read?" she asks somewhat accusingly. Obviously I didn't read it because I was busy most of the evening, during the storm, I think to myself.

I wrap the cover around me as I rise from the floor and sit on the settee. Then, feeling a little abashed, I slip into my denims, stand up, zip the fly and do up the single button before turning to face her. I see my cook very rarely because she usually comes home when I'm away at the office, and she doesn't normally come on weekends. On the rare occasions when I do see her, she's usually wearing a t-shirt and yoga shorts that she finds comfortable while riding her motorcycle to work. I think she also always wears a sports bra that conceals the size of her breasts.

But today she's looking different; she's wearing a collared shirt with the top two or three buttons undone, revealing a substantial cleavage. I think she has on an underwire plunge bra which I can vaguely make out through the gauzy grey shirt that has a delicate pink floral design. She has on a tweed-like herringbone printed flip skirt with a black glossy band around her waist and pleats that fall considerably above her knees. She isn't wearing stockings or socks and I briefly wonder how she handles the cold during winter, dressed the way she is. There is, however, a hooded parka jacket draped over the backrest of the settee, and a pair of leather gloves peeking out of a pocket.

I walk up to the kitchen area, bare chested, and look at her while she's busy with her cooking. She's just placed two eggs, cooked sunny side up, on to a plate and the toaster pops a couple of slices. As she carries my breakfast on a tray, along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, to the dining table, I step out of her way and ask "Do you have a date today? Going out with your boyfriend for lunch?"

"No!" she exclaims, "Now come and eat some breakfast."

I realise I'm famished, not having had any dinner the night before, and I wolf down the eggs and toast in a hurry. No words are spoken for the next few minutes, and after I've washed down the food with a glass of juice I get up, carry the dishes to the kitchen, and go immediately to my bathroom. I brush my teeth and put on a fresh t-shirt before walking back to the front of my house where Lien is finally cleaning up the dishes. She's finished the cooking, and I'm hoping she doesn't bring up the subject again of finding me naked on the carpet when she came in this morning. For a fleeting moment I wonder where the grass-cutter woman has gone, but decide to think about that later.

I walk up to the end of the flat and look out through the tall plate glass doors; cerulean sky, flitting tufts of puffy white clouds scamper across the heavens, the lake has a blue-green colour with faint wavelets undulating across the surface. I think of the storm and the night before; how peaceful the morning looks in comparison to the memory of the turbulence only 12 hours ago. I slide open the panels and step outside; the air is clean, fresh and cool. I breathe in deeply, filling my lungs with oxygen and contemplate lighting a cigarette but decide against it.

As I turn to go back inside, I find Lien stepping over the sliding door tracks between the living room and the balcony. In the bright daylight she looks even more stunning than in the artificial kitchen lights. The grey and pink combination of her shirt is beautiful but I can't resist absorbing the swell of her breasts and the faint outline of her brassiere. "You no like me?" she asks softly.

That catches me completely by surprise and I look at her eyes, trying to fathom where that came from. "Huh!?", I sound like an imbecile as I stare open-mouthed at her lovely face. She wears her hair short, shorter than mine it seems, so there's nothing that distracts the view from her sharp cut jaw and delicately high cheek-bones. The tip of her small oriental nose glistens in the sunlight as does the wine coloured lipstick gloss. But there's a single line frown on her forehead and her mouth is just a wee bit severe as she looks very seriously at me.

"Of course I like you", I finally manage to utter, "Why would you think otherwise?"

"You like my body?"

This isn't going the way our rare conversations ever go, and I'm still flummoxed at the direction this dialogue is taking. Of course, I like her body, or at least what I have always imagined it to be. She's about 5'1" tall, probably wears 34" B-cup brassieres, has taut muscles on her thighs and lower limbs, and a wonderfully shaped tight derriere. And an extremely attractive face.

"You ask me if I have date today. I say no. I have no boyfriend. But you ask because I know you like my dress. I never dress like this for work."

"Yes", is all I can get myself to say.

Lien continues, now with her head down, looking somewhere near my feet I guess. "I dress like this for you. I want you see me not like everyday. But you no like."

"Lien, I love the way you dressed. In fact I was thinking to myself how beautiful you are. And I wish I could see you more often but we never meet." I'm feeling like a real heel now; I should have thought to compliment her when I first saw her this morning but my mind was too full of whether she knew somehow of my tryst with the grass-cutter woman. "In fact, you look sexier than most women I normally meet," I ventured, risking her wrath but deciding to tell her the truth.

"But you only make love with your office women," she whispered. "You no like me?"

The directness and straight-talk of Vietnamese women has never failed to stun me. She doesn't know about the grass-cutter lady, Hoa, but she seems to have some inkling about my occasional assignations with Nguyet from my office. I drive away thoughts about other women and focus on my cook instead. Lien maybe a cook at my house, and it's the only house she works at, but she comes from a socio-economic strata that's in the upper percentiles of Vietnamese society. She has a degree from the Foreign Trade University in Hanoi, runs a successful business in the food and catering industry, lives with her parents and a grandmother in a six-bedroom villa in the Thạch Thất area, and gets invited to opening nights at the Hanoi Opera House.

For me, she's always been special and I actually feel honoured that she agreed to cook for me; and her food is absolutely delicious, as many invited guests to my home in Hanoi will stand witness to. But now, she's a little wistful, and that makes me sad. I reach out and take her small delicate hand in mine and walk into the comforting warmth of the living room, sliding shut the door panels. With my back against the plate glass, I pull Lien towards me and wrap my arms around her.

As she leans into me, her head resting against my chest, I whisper next to her ear "Lien, many times I have thought about you, I have thought about you at night and dreamed that you were in bed next to me. Many times I have thought about how to ask you. But I have been afraid to because I respect you a lot, and I didn't think you were interested in me."

She has her arms around my waist and I feel her body shiver slightly as she holds me just a little tighter. I swallow my trepidation and push ahead, telling her secret thoughts that I have never revealed before. "When I saw you this morning, I immediately noticed your clothes, and I thought about how pretty you looked, and how much I have always wanted to make love to you."

She bends her head backwards and looks up at me, her dark brown eyes are like deep pools that seemed misted over. There is a wetness at the corner of her eyes, the first teardrops forming as she stands on her toes and touches her lips against mine. Fleetingly, I remember the melancholy moment last night when Hoa was similarly in my arms, teardrops marking a glittering trail down her cheeks. But as I feel this woman against me, this classy Hanoian lady, my mind and my body seem to give themselves up at her altar. I feel her wet lips move against my parched mouth, and my arms wrap around her lower back, supporting her as she stretches on her toes.

She raises one hand and places it behind my head, drawing it down so she can fuse her mouth against mine as she lowers her heels to the ground. I can feel her tongue running over my lips as I open my mouth; I breathe in the subtle fragrance of a delicate perfume that reminds me of roses in bloom, perhaps a Jo Malone perfume. Sensing the touch of her skin against my own sends nerve-tingling waves through my body; desire courses through my veins as the testosterone levels rise. The physical and the emotional sensations are fusing in my body and my brain as Lien's body begins to move against mine, her breasts pushed hard on my chest.

I can feel her hips begin a slow gyration over my lower abdomen and groin as I lower my hands from the small of her back to her tight behind, pulling her inwards against me. Her hand slips down from behind my head, over my shoulder and clavicle, till her fingers hook into the neckline of my t-shirt. I open my mouth a little wider as she pushes her tongue inside, gliding it around my own tongue and across the ridges of my teeth. As I draw her body in closer against mine, she pulls hard on the neckline of my t-shirt and presses her crotch against me.

I grip her backside tighter as I push my own hips forward. Her fingers release the top of my vest and her hand is almost immediately under the garment; I feel the coolness of her palm against the warmth of my skin as she spans my chest and breathes into my mouth. I push my tongue past her lips and drown it in the wet comfort of her mouth as our bodies press against one another. Her palm roams across the surface of my chest, fingers trailing through the hair till they stop over one of my nipples. That nerve tingling sensation once more ripples through my body as I clench her buttocks and feel the athletic firmness of her bum.

She takes the hem of my t-shirt and lifts it up along my upper body, forcing me to release her arse and raise my hands so she can remove the clothing and throw it on the settee. When my arms are free, I lower one hand back to her rump and place the other over her bosom. This time I slip my hand under her skirt and feel the cool satiny fabric of her undergarment against my palm, trying to simultaneously edge a couple of fingers into the panties. I push the fingers of my other hand inside her shirt and into the cup of her bra, immediately feeling the swell of her breast and the hard nipple.

As my left hand pushes inside her undies, I feel the moistness between her thighs and bend my knees a little so I can reach the entrance to her cunt with one finger. Lien has one hand around my head, fingers entangled in my unkempt hair, drawing me down and pressing her mouth against mine in a breathless kiss. Her other hand is stroking the burgeoning erection in my denims, fingernails raking the growing length of my manhood. We continue to kiss deeply, mouths open, tongues jousting with one another as her little fist grips the width of my penis and pulls on it.

When we pull our faces apart to draw in a breath, she whispers "I think you like me now. So big and so hard. Dương vật cứng." As she pulls my head down again for another long and deep bout of osculation, she releases her grip over my denim encased erection and begins to slip her fingers into my waistband. I'm not wearing any underwear this morning so my penis has considerable freedom to stretch in any direction of least resistance. Right now, it is straight and runs down the length of my thigh at a stiff angle. When I feel her finger tips touch the rigid shaft, my hips move involuntarily against her body, pushing against her stomach.