Fucking Ellen #1

Getting home with her was in itself a struggle, squeezing our way through the massive crowds and trying to get onto the subway. The subway is perhaps the most visible sign of the yokel soul that lurks beneath Shanghai’s glib, slick exterior. No matter than the floors and walls are plastered with ‘先下后上’ (First off, then on) signs; no matter that the subway guards, brought in for just this kind of cattle control, blare the same message through loud hailers; subway time is pell-mell time, as the mob pushes and shoves its way on board, irrespective of those trying to get off first, irrespective of the occasional hapless commuter who, having got some learning, has tried to behave like a member of the human race and queue up. The feeding-time-at-the-zoo air of it all is magnified by the impatient drivers who generally try to close the door as people are still getting on and off the carriages.

But anyhow, we fought our way on and thence home, where I stepped out onto the balcony with her. This is something of a money-shot view since, 40 floors high, my balcony has a view over Shanghai’s spectacular panorama. If the air is not too full of poison and pollution, it’s possible to see all the landmark buildings, the elegant Jin Mao tower (China’s tallest skyscraper – or, as the locals call it, ‘Mainland China’s tallest tower’ – an absurd locution to acknowledge the fact that Tapei has a bigger tower and at the same time maintain the preposterous conceit Taiwan is part of China), the remarkably ugly Oriental Pearl Tower, a concrete and purple monstrosity that looks like some kind of elaborate Japanese sex toy, the multi-colored buildings along Nanjing and Huaihai Road and all the other superficially impressive glam.

It is looking over this view that I make the next move in my routine. Having brought the woman home and out to the balcony, I then stand behind her as I point out the various buildings before us, first holding my hand out in front of her to indicate this building or that… and then I wrap that hand round her midriff and lay my head on her shoulder, turn her face to mine and come closer for the first kiss.

And so as Ellen and I stood on the balcony, she murmured something about sending her father a message to tell him when she’d be home.

‘You can tell him you’ll be home soon… or you can tell him you’re going to stay in your dorm… or you can stay with me,’ I said.

She did not reply to this, either because she misunderstood, or because she was thinking it over. ‘So… Stay with me?’ I repeated.

‘Will you hurt me?’ she asked. ‘Of course not..’ I replied. ‘But I do want to kiss you… want to kiss you.’ She said nothing, so I moved closer; and she turned to me, and we kissed. And not a chaste, exploratory, bashful kiss on her part, no….but open-mouthed, intense, vocal.. and not just one, but dozens. I pulled her to me tighter, dropped a hand down between her legs, pressing against her, then slipping my hand up under her top, over her belly, up to the fabric of her bra. But after a few minutes of this, she said ‘I don’t like it out here…’

‘Then let’s go to the bedroom..’ I suggested; and so we did.

None of that false modesty, no fake shyness; I sat down by her on the bed, kissing and caressing, and then grasping the hem of her top. She smiled, signaling, yes, with her eyes, and so I began to undress her. She moved to undo her trousers, but I stopped her hand – ‘I want to do that.’ So she tackled my shirt instead, when that was off I unhooked her bra.

The first time is always the most exciting… the first time to see a new pair of breasts, a pussy. Each new time is truly new, fresh, salacious… and a mystery, for with the shaped padded bras that so many women here wear, what lies beneath is seldom certain. Thus Simone’s breasts were bigger than expected; Ellen’s a little smaller. But I like smaller, and while Ellen’s were not so well defined as Mona’s, they were cute and girlish. Tiny nipples, aureoles, firm under my tongue, nipped between my teeth. And so then to her trousers, the button of which she’d undone already.. I eased down the zip, folded them apart, to see the next delight, her panties. Not quite as sexy as I had hoped – cotton, mostly plain, the kind her parents no doubt approve of. Sexy panties remain a rarity in China; most women choose designs more suited to their grandparents.

So off with her trousers, and mine too, and I kiss her all over, from mouth to toes. And then through her panties, which makes her press against me… and then I allow myself the final treat, the first look at her pussy… my first thought? It needed trimming -- too much hair, untidy. But I did not tell her this just yet; instead, I went down on her, teasing at first, just blowing, then kissing her thighs, kissing above, below, to the side… and then moving in for my first taste. She was wet, excited, open. I found her clit with my tongue, licked, tasted.. she pressed against me, hard, enjoying it. But not for long; ‘I want.. want you, want you inside me..’ she breathed. And so I moved up to penetrate her.

Moving my cock to the position I was about to say ‘It might hurt..’ but feeling the slickness of her pussy against my cock I thought again.. Pushed forward.. And eased in, smooth, gliding.. and though she gasped as I filled her, it was from pleasure not pain; and this is the first time it has happened so easily. Each other woman has found it to a greater or lesser extent painful; but not Ellen. Which, I confess, did make me doubt her later claim that I was only her third guy.

And so, indeed, did her unbridled passion as we fucked. Was she really that inexperienced? She was good… so good that we fucked three times that night and again the morning after, and just thinking of how good she was now makes me stir.

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