Ben Esra telefonda seni bo■altmamř ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
┬ę 2018 Chloe Tzang. All rights reserved. The author asserts a moral right to be identified as the author of this story. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
Okay, this little story was repurposed for the Literotica 2018 Valentine’s Day Competition. It’s lite, it’s trite, it was fun to write and I do hope you enjoy….. Chloe.
* * *
“You two can work down here,” Mom said to me. In Cantonese. So Trey wouldn’t know what she was saying. “Not your bedroom, Jenny. That boy, he’s a gweilo. Can’t trust gweilo boys. Get them in a bedroom with a pretty Chinese girl, all they think about is hanky panky.”
“Aiyaaaaah, Mom. It’s a school project,” I complained. In Cantonese. Of course. So Trey wouldn’t know what I was saying either. “Trey and I are supposed to work on it together. I’m not a baby, we need to really focus here.”
Mom wouldn’t let me go to Trey’s to work on the project (“can’t trust those gweilo boys with a pretty Chinese girl”). We had to work on it together so he’d had to come over to my house. It’d been sooooo embarrassing explaining that to him. That he’d have to work with me at my parent’s house.
You’d think I’d be used to my Mom embarrassing me by now but I wasn’t. It bugged me every time. Chinese parents. Aiyyaaaaah. So old fashioned. Maybe not some, but mine were. I couldn’t wait to go away to College. God, they didn’t even let me date. How embarrassing is that? Eighteen last month and I still wasn’t allowed to date! My non-Chinese friends thought it was because I was a nerd! My Chinese friends knew.
“Don’t sweat about it, Jenny,” Trey’d grinned when I’d kind of stuttered and blushed my away through my excuses and asked him if we could work at my house. I’d rather have partnered up with one of my friends, but we didn’t get a choice. It’d been names out of the hat and Trey and I had ended teamed up together. Could have been worse. Could’ve been that asshole Dave who liked to call us Chinese girls chinks and slant eyes. That was on a good day.
Nope, Trey wasn’t ideal, but he was okay. At least he was smart enough that I wouldn’t have to do all the pulling on this one. Not like last semester. That useless Richard, la! Trey wasn’t bad looking either. For a gweilo boy. Bonus.
“Okay, let’s get to work.” I pointed him at what was supposed to be our dining room. Except that Mom, Dad and, reluctantly, me, all had workstations there. Mom and Dad, for work. Me, for schoolwork. How embarrassing.
Trey grinned. “Sure, no problem,” he’d said, following me in. Sitting down next to me. He did smell nice.
* * *
“Finished!” I sat back. Almost two weeks later. Three whole days to spare, although two of those were the weekend. We’d worked together almost every evening. Trey had started staying for dinner. Turned out he liked Chinese food. He could use chopsticks as well. Who’d have guessed? I kind of wondered what his parents thought about him being over here every night. I hoped they didn’t think I was his girlfriend or something. That’d be embarrassing. We knew his parents from Church. Vaguely. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known Trey for years. Right through High School in fact. Just, we’d never spent time together. Really, he was quite likeable.
“Damn.” Trey grinned. “Guess I’m going to have to ask you out on a date then, Jenny. Can’t keep using our project as an excuse to come over anymore. Love your Mom’s cooking too.”
I laughed. He’d been teasing me all week. “And what about Karen, you were dating her last I heard.”
“Not anymore,” he said. “She dumped me. Said I was spending too much time with you.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Trey, you staying for dinner.” Mom’s voice carried through the door. Easily. Trey didn’t seem to mind her yelling.
“Sure, Mrs. Lee, love too,” he yelled right back.
It was almost Chinese, the way he did that. I had to smile. When he grinned at me, my heart did a little pitter-patter. He didn’t seem upset about Karen dumping him either. He even helped me with the dishes after dinner. I wondered if he was serious about dating me. God, I was actually thinking about it. Trey was kind of attractive. Smart. I liked the way he smelled too.
I asked around on Friday morning. It turned out he hadn’t been feeding me a line about Karen. She had dumped him and it was because he’d been spending that time with me. She even started dissing me behind my back. Cat. But I smiled when I saw Trey. He smiled back. My heart did a little dance. Maybe Mom would let me date him?
* * *
Trey called me early Monday night. His number flashed up. My heart did that little dance thing. I answered. We talked. All the usual inanities and all the time I was thinking “will he … will he…” And he did.
“Hey Jenny, I was serious before, you know, last night. How about a date. Tonight? Tomorrow night? bahis firmalar─▒ Heck, any night?”
“I’d love too,” I said.
“Hey…” He sounded all excited.
“But my Mom and Dad’ll say no,” I said. “I’m not allowed to date. Definitely not gweilo boys.” Trey had been around at our house often enough. He knew what a gweilo was by now. In this case, very specifically, him. “How about coming round tonight, I didn’t tell Mom we’d finished the project. We can, you know, maybe we can tell Mom we have to go to the library or something to use some of their reference material.”
“Great, why not ask your Mom.”
“No,” Mom said, when I yelled downstairs to ask her. “Not tonight. Big family dinner at Auntie Stella’s tonight. Before I forget, I forget to tell you before. Father D’Souza called, he want you as Altar Girl for rest of the year. I told him yes, you have to go to Church Wednesday evening for rehearsal and tomorrow night we got barbecue at Uncle John’s. You tell that Trey he can come round Sunday afternoon maybe, stay for dinner, you two do your project then, okay.”
“I heard,” Trey said. “Tell your Mom Sunday afternoon is fine, I’ll see you at Mass maybe.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly a date but Trey seemed to understand.
* * *
The whole Altar Girl thing didn’t exactly excite me. I’d done it back in elementary school for a couple of years and I was, like, “why me” when Mom dropped me off at Church on Wednesday evening. She even walked in with me. Aiiyaaaaah. Like I was a little girl or something. Valentine’s Day and I’d seen Trey at School and he’d smiled but no card, no roses. Not even a text. And evening at Church rehearsing altar girl stuff. What a fun way to spend my evening on Valentine’s Day.
Father D’Souza was all smiles. “Mrs. Lee, so good of your daughter to volunteer. I’ve got one of the old altar boy’s here to run her through a refresher, and I wanted to ask your advice about the kitchen downstairs. The contractor’s expecting us to drop by his showroom in ten minutes. I’ll drive.” He waved through the open door. “Young man, come in, come in, here’s your trainee.”
“Hi, Jenny. Hi Mrs. Lee.”
“Trey!” I was going to kill him. He must’ve known.
Mom looked at me. Raised an eyebrow. But Father D’Souza was already standing, taking her arm, leading her out of his office. Mom looked over her shoulder and spoke. In Cantonese. “No Hanky Panky in Church.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said. In Cantonese. Why on earth would she say that? Who’d do something like that in Church? Honestly! Mom!
“We’ll be back in forty five minutes, Trey,” Father D’Souza said. “Make sure Jenny’s good with the whole ceremony, she’s helping with Mass tomorrow morning.”
I was? News to me but okay, it’s not like it was rocket science and I’d done it before, eight years ago. Like riding a bicycle, there’s some things it’s hard to forget.
“Okay, Father, no problem,” Trey said, and then we were alone. Him and me. First time seriously alone. With no-one else around. In Church, dammit. Why couldn’t it be at home? We looked at each other. A slow smile spread across Trey’s face. A slow smile spread across mine. When he took my hand in his, it seemed as if it’d always belonged there. “You remember the whole walk down the aisle thing don’t you?” Trey said. “Let’s go through the routine in the sacristy.”
“Okay,” I said, following him out of Father D’Souza’s office, across the vestibule and into the Church. Hand in hand we walked down the aisle, up the steps, into the sacristy and out of sight.
“You remember where everything is?” Trey asked, looking at me.
“Yes,” I said, looking back at him.
“Maybe not these,” he said, and he reached out and there was a bunch of roses in his hand. “My Valentine for you, Jenny.”
Beautiful red Valentine’s Day roses and a card and my smile just about split my face as I gazed into his eyes. His wonderful blue eyes. He smelt so good, even better than the roses and somehow the roses were on the counter and I was in his arms, my arms around his neck, pressed against him, his lips finding mine.
Trey could kiss. His lips must have had some kind of magic spell on them, because their touch on mine held me enthralled. That first kiss. On Valentine’s Day and that made it even more perfect. I’d never been kissed before. Never, and I know that sounds silly. Sixteen and never been kissed. Well, I was eighteen and never been kissed. Over-protective Chinese parents. Never been allowed to date. Too goody-goody for my own good. Except, now, I wasn’t being goody-goody at all. Now, Trey was kissing me and I had no idea what I should do. I was terrified.
Not of Trey kissing me. Terrified of my own ignorance. My own complete lack of knowledge. I wanted to be kissed but I just wasn’t sure what to do. Theory’s one thing. Practice is another thing completely and as his lips brushed mine, I just froze. His lips brushed my closed lips, something slippery brushed against me next. His tongue? His lips were parting, ka├žak iddaa seeming to urge mine apart. Should I? Was that what I was supposed to do? Heart pounding, I let my lips follow his, opening my mouth to him, eyes wide as his tongue slipped past my lips and into my mouth.
It was good. To my surprise, it was better than good. His tongue in my mouth was alive, like some beautiful snake, flicking and pushing and sliding against my own tongue, floating against the roof of my mouth, tasting the insides of my lips. Sliding, flickering, feather light pushing, tasting, his lips locked to mine. Without warning, without removing his lips from mine, he withdrew his tongue, gently sucked mine deep into the warmth and wetness of his own mouth and now it was my tongue tentatively reciprocating.
Heart pounding, eyes wide, pressed against him, his arms around me, my tongue explored, tasted, slipped over his before he took control again. His tongue sliding back into my mouth and now it was me doing the sucking, eagerly. His arms held me as we kissed, held me and stroked me, my arms, my shoulders, my back, setting me on fire. More than anything else, I wanted him to run his hands over the rest of me and I was pushing myself against him, aching for more and his hands were on my hips.
“Ooohhhh…” A small gasp escaped my lips as his mouth lifted from mine, both of us breathing hard.
Trey’s hands squeezed my hips, pulling me tight against him. Suddenly aware of his bulging length underneath the fabric of his jeans, my heart fluttered. My gasp of surprise was audible to both of us. Almost, almost, I pushed myself away from him but something inside me told me to wait, to stay where I was, held tightly against him, looking up into his eyes and I did. I waited, breathed in sharply, one shuddering gasp after another, half closing my eyes, feeling his hard erection pressing against me through our clothing while I waited, for what I wasn’t sure.
Hidden away in the sacristy, Trey’s hands ran over my back, my shoulders, my face, brushing my cheeks, my hair. I was trembling as one of his hands slid around between us, closing firmly over one of my breasts. His hand pressed against me, cupped my small breast through the fabric of my shirt and the light cotton of my bra. I felt his grip tighten on me, touching me where no guy ever had and then his other hand was there, slipping up to the collar of my shirt, his fingers working free the buttons one by one.
In the still silence of the sacristy, I could hear the snap of each button being worked free, feeling more and more of me being progressively exposed as his fingers worked their way downwards. I was trembling as he unbuttoned me, shaking even, but that hand on my breast, teasing my increasingly sensitive nipple through my bra held me enthralled until my shirt was complete unfastened, wide open, exposing my skin to his fingers. Now I looked down. Looked down between us to see as well as feel his fingers brushing across my stomach, his skin white against my silky olive brown.
I looked down and then I looked up as his hands slid around to my back and casually, easily, his fingers unhooked my bra. That sudden release of tension as he worked the hooks free told me what he had done, my breasts quivered as their constraining support was released. Suddenly shy, I turned away from him, only to find both his hands sliding my bra up, exposing both my breasts, cupping them, caressing me, rolling my nipples under his fingers, all while that bulging hardness now pressed firmly against my butt. Both his hands were on me, squeezing me, massaging me, new sensations washing through me.
Shyness and embarrassment overtook me. I’d never exposed my body to a man before, never and even excited and as I was, I was shy. Shy but excited. Embarrassment. Pleasure. Excitement. A growing warmth, a tightness in my stomach, a throbbing wet heat in my sex that almost scared me with its intensity.
Looking down, I could see my nipples. Reddish brown, swollen, rubbery hard, larger than I had ever seen them as they rolled under his fingers, his thumbs. He was tall enough that the top of my head came to just beneath his chin and my head was leaning back against his shoulder, my mouth wide open, panting, whimpering, gasping as his hands explored my breasts while that hard bulge pressed firmly against my butt. Held, helpless, stunned at the speed with which everything had happened, hung there, suspended in pleasure.
“Trey.” My voice held helpless longing, desire, confusion, shame and excitement, all in one word. “We shouldn’t….” I was a good girl. A good Chinese girl and he was doing to me what a good Chinese girl should never let happen. Not until she was married. Or at least engaged. Least of all in Church. Worse still, in the sacristy. “Trey…”
“Jenny.” His voice held his desire for me, male dominance, assertiveness, want, confidence, passion. He silenced me with a firm squeeze of my breasts with both hands. His face buried itself in my hair, he took ka├žak bahis a deep, sensual breath, inhaling my scent, shuddering as he pressed against me, the hard promise of his bulging length pressing firmly against my butt.
It’d finally dawned on me what that hardness was. High School biology classes and those sex education lessons suddenly made more sense as I felt him pressed firmly, solidly against my butt. His fingers and thumbs took my swollen nipples, squeezed them, tugged at them, achingly delicious sensations as his hardness ground against me.
“Ooohhhhhh.” Eyes half closed, I cried out at that forceful caress, a cry loud enough to carry through the silence of the Church, loud enough to have been heard if there’d been any listeners. Fortunately, there were none and my cry died away, faded to a muffled whine as I bit down on my bottom lip.
“Ooohhhh.” I sobbed again, quietly as I watched him roll my rubbery-full nipples between his thumbs and his forefingers. Without experiencing the pleasure that rippled through me when he did that, I would never have believed how good it felt, how much I wanted him do it again. Watching his fingers, feeling his fingers on me, I knew my Mom had been right all along. Gweilo boys, they wanted hanky panky with pretty Chinese girls.
Trey was a gweilo boy.
“Ahhhhh.” He did it again, he rolled my nipples and I whimpered, then whimpered again as he tugged and twisted them. It went on and on, my nipples swollen hard, standing straight out, impossibly sensitive, impossibly large and hard under his fingers, my hands unable to resist, moving to rest over his, wanting to feel his hands moving on me as well as watch them.
“Your breasts are beautiful, Jenny,” he breathed into my hair as his hands continued to caress me. I shuddered, rocking with him now as his hips started to move, to push against my butt, promising more, leaving me limp. I watched his hands as they gently cupped me, held me, tormented me. A guy’s hands on my naked breasts for the first time, stroking them, brushing my nipples, teasing them. The sight and feel of his fingers on me enthralled me.
When his hands guided me around to face him again, I made no resistance. None. My arms went around his neck, my mouth opened to his, I accepted his tongue within my mouth as if it belonged there. His hand on my back, under my shirt, on my skin, urging me closer to him; that hand had me shivering with delight. It was the other touch though. The one that had found its way under my skirt as he turned me. The one that was on my panties, touching me where a good Chinese girl shouldn’t be touched until she’s got that engagement ring on her finger.
That’s what my Mom said.
“Trey … Trey … stop it.” Only, I was way too young to even be thinking of engagement rings. I was still at High School. My last year at High, okay, but I was Chinese. My Mom said I wasn’t supposed to do anything like this with boys. Especially not gweilo boys who’d do their best to take advantage of a pretty Chinese girl.
Which made me wonder about my Mom, just momentarily. She seemed to know a lot about gweilo boys and what they did. How did she know all that? Then I forgot all about my Mom.
“Ohhhhh … ohhhhh, Trey.” Oh god, his fingers. They must have some sort of magic spell worked on them too. He was touching me through my panties and I was so wet, so sensitive. His fingers, they were doing things to me. Hot wet ripples of excitement washing through me, turning me to jelly. Molten jelly as he kissed me. As his fingers brushed me where I was so sensitive. So receptive.
“Ooohhhhhh. …. Ohhhh , Trey …. we shouldn’t.” Soft little moans of excitement as his fingers caressed me, featherlight on me, delicately teasing and tempting. I knew we shouldn’t. But we were. He was. I wasn’t stopping him. “We shouldn’t Trey, not here.” What his hand was doing to me was something a guy’s hand shouldn’t be doing to a girl in the sacristy at Church. No way.
I shuffled my feet a little further apart, shivering, inhaling his scent. Making more room for his hand to touch me where it shouldn’t.
“What if … what if someone comes?” We wouldn’t know, not in here, out of sight.
“You’re right.” Trey kissed me again. “Come on, we need to be able to see if anyone’s coming.”
That wasn’t what I’d meant but it didn’t matter. He walked me backwards out of the sacristy, backing me out towards the altar, flicking the light switches to turn the lights off as we left the sacristy. Hidden in the shadows, he backed me all the way to the altar, pushing me up against it so that I was half sitting on the edge, my back to the entrance. Trey could see though, and inside the Church, with the lights off, it was dark up here.
Dark enough that we could see anyone out in the concourse long before they opened the doors into the church. With a sigh of relief, I gave my mouth up to Trey’s kisses once more, my shirt hanging open, my little white cotton bra pushed up around my armpits. His hand under my skirt, cupping my sex through my white cotton panties. Pressing against me through that thin cotton. My sex seemed to pulse against his hand with a flooding wet heat that held me so that I was incapable of movement.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bo■altmamř ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32