Saturday, May 20, 2006

Seducing Lucy

Well, rather to my surprise I find mention of this blog at Shanghaiist, which says:-

What better way to spend a windy, rainy day than reading about some guy's sexcapades on a blog? OK, there are many better ways, but maybe this site will be of interest to those of you still upset they took the soft-core porn channel off the Filipino satellite service. The site is called Sex and Shanghai / 欲望上海 (you'll need a proxy to access it in China) and we have a feeling you can guess what it's about. It's like Penthouse Letters, but localized. Here's an R-rated and, as a friend just said, "icky" taste…

Indeed there are numerous better ways. Can’t dispute that. And `icky’ is right enough too, since the bit quoted is:-

And she really was a remarkable lover, and when she came on top she so got into it, doing this thing with pelvic squeezes which just blasted me. It was a little difficult to get into her at first, causing her pain, but once she’d relaxed, once she had eased herself round my size, she let her feelings go. This night was not quite as fine as before, since her period was due, and this made her tender.

I did think about un-ickying it but, really, what is the point? Most of what I have written so far is just reworked from my diary (I will get to present tense in due course), and it is simply a record of what happened; she was tender that day, and told me why; and it did cause her some pain when I entered her.

This is an anonymous medium; you don’t know who I am, and I don’t know who you are – so why prettify it? And certainly one should not be squeamish about the blood of the matter. I feel that most strongly. When I slept with Gloria the first time, it so happened she had her period. But damned if I was going to make her feel unclean, dirty; the world is full enough of guys who make women feel apologetic for their bodies. Not me. From coffee and art to cock in the ass, I’ll just blather it out as it happened.

So, I was talking about Lucy, and propositioning her in the park. (
Xujiahui Park. While mostly I have nothing but scorn and contempt for all government in China, I have to admit to some mild respect in this angle at least. A few years ago what is now park was occupied by a rubber factory. That was closed down as part of the wholly cosmetic environmental clean-up that Shanghai conducted (and achieved by simply moving the polluting factories elsewhere). The vacated plot was reworked in a rather nice park, spite of it being prime CBD land. It seems to me in London, say, a tower block would have gone up. That a park was built instead shows a rare instance of the government thinking about the people’s needs, rather than (as more often) viewing the people as a mass to be lectured and controlled.)

And in fact now I remember that this was not my first tryst in the park. A year or two back I loitered there with Teresa (one of the increasing numbers of christians in China, as foul a breed here as they are anywhere in the world) who, (obscured by a bush) nimbly masturbated me.

So, ‘Will you spend the whole night with me?' Lucy asked, which was rather a bother, since my plan had been to hit and run, but, hey; I wasn’t going to throw up a fuck for that.

First of all, we walked to the
Tian Ping Hotel, where, as usual, they tried it on. Usually whenever a white person goes to any shop or service in China, the price goes up. To locals, white people do not really count as people at all; they are just there to be taken advantage of. In the Chinese mind, in general, it is ok to try to make more money from us; we, being supposed rich, are fair game. Sometimes, demanding equal treatment, a fair price, elicits an angry reaction -- as much to say we are at fault for not playing the game, not allowing ourselves to be ripped off. And so at this hotel they told me ‘We only have a suite,’ which was of course 900 yuan compared to the single room price of 400 (single rooms always have big beds here). But when I made to leave, they naturally found they did have a room, but with no windows, at 350. Who needs windows to fuck?

Now while I did have a copy of my passport ID page, I did not have a copy of my visa. Without it, I could not get a room, since this country is suspicious and watchful, trying to monitor every action and thought of every person here. I was somewhat abrupt in my reaction to this for, speed was important, else Lucy's ardor might cool and she might reconsider. I had to get her to bed before she changed her mind.

But also the fact I did not have a copy of my visa meant that I now had to get her to book the room, which would lay what she was about to do on the line even more clearly. I explained the situation to her, and she agreed to book a room. When she said ‘Let me see if I have my ID card’ I thought that she was going to excuse her way out. I was wrong; she was glad to find she had it with her and, when I showed her the next nearest hotel (for we could not try the Tian Ping again; it would be obvious this was a love rendezvous, and given that the hotel clearly stuck by the rules, and given how the rules here are all about prying into privacy, about control, doing so would clearly have ended in humiliation for her and anger from me), opposite Jiao Tong University, she went right in and got the room; and, as I had suggested, when she'd got it, texted me the number so as I could march straight in and up. Which she did, I did. 408, a number now to remember. But when I knocked on the room door, she said ‘Is that you? Just a minute..’ So I loitered, no doubt being watched by whoever was on the other end of the corridor security camera -- and sure they knew just what was going on.

She opened the door after a lengthy pause, showered, wrapped in a towel. That was good, since it meant she was still sure; and bad, because I wanted to undress her. And good again because it gave me a chance to shower, which I needed.

The room was right for the purpose; new, clean, quiet, that hotel smell, no tobacco fug, no stained walls or patched sheets -- and a big bed. By its side, a large armchair with a footstool, together something like a chaise longue. She was lying on this, still wrapped in a towel; nervous, timid, but positioned sexily, invitingly, expectantly, wanting what she feared, too. She was shy of her body, would not let me loosen the towel, so I began it by kissing, to stoke her; and so I did, kissing, caressing, going slow, seeing the whole night ahead of me, hours to caress, explore, fuck. And thus through the stages, the towel of itself as a result of our kissing slipping, loosening, half exposing her breasts, and then me kissing it the rest of the way down, to her belly and stopping there as she intakes breath in soft alarm ..’Don’t worry, I'm not going to... no hurry..’

‘Shall we move to the bed?
’ she asked, making me not for the only time that night wonder if she was playing me far better than I was her – was she really a virgin?. But this was just a whisper of paranoia -- it was a safeguard of at least thinking I've been played so that, if it turned out I had been, I could say to myself ‘I thought I was being played’ and thus salvage some self-respect.

And so to the bed. Finally casting the towel aside, I took my first look at her pussy.. Now, the pussy; ninety percent, a pussy is a pussy. But there is that ten percent of difference, the special characteristic of each And that's what makes it so appealing, what stokes the drive to see another, and another, and another; and from the moment each is seen, its charm begins to dwindle.

Well, I have got this far and only glanced at the root of the night's fascination; her utter inexperience. That was one of the reasons we went round and round in the park. ‘I have no experience, I do not know what to do, I do not know how…’ she’d told me.

Yeah, that was part of the wow, she being a virgin. So cool, to be someone's first, to know you'll be keen, you'll live, colorful, real in their memory their whole life, with them until the last breath. And that her body had been seen by no man but me -- the gift of that!

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Goodbye Tingting, Hello Lucy

And after that I have seen and heard almost nothing of Tingting. But this is good; breaking it off before I was ready to makes it linger in the memory; ending before I got tired of her keeps it fresh. And her dumping me -- which was something new -- gives it an added sense of piquancy. Thus my relationship with Tingting still resonates within me, still shapes me, whereas my relationships with other women, relationships that I chose to let die, are largely forgotten.

One such relationship was with Lucy; and so wholly have I forgotten her that did I not keep a diary I would find little to say here. She was 22 or 23, cute but not remarkably so, and while I remember seducing her quite clearly (for the way in which I got her to bed was something new for me) I cannot quite clearly recall how I met her. It does not matter; I could tell as soon as I met her she liked the look of me, and thus I invited her to meet me for coffee to ‘practice her English'. We did this one time, and chatted easy enough, and I could see the interest in her eyes. So I suggested we meet again in due course, and so we did.

On the way to meet her this second time she messaged me, to say that as the coffee bar we'd agreed on was so busy she was in the upstairs section. Right then that struck me as strange; after all, same time last week, when I took someone else there, it was quiet, as it had been the six, eight weekends before that when I had rendezvoused with a different woman, Gloria, whom I will get to talking about in due course.

Later it became clear why she'd claimed downstairs was busy. This time, like last, I knew was rather taken by me. And again since I could see it, I pushed it. So when she asked me how to spell or say something, I said I would have to charge her 10 yuan, or a kiss; at which she leaned forward and kissed me, on my lips, her mouth a little open. And this made her choice of seat quite clear; it was hidden away in the furthermost corner of the bar, behind a medium height dividing wall which, though transparent, was filled with plastic plants and added extra privacy. And so we dallied thus, talking, learning, sure, but with more hand contact, and eye, and then lips.. until this pair I cursed as idiots and fools took the table on the other side of the wall, curtailing her willingness to flirt.

So I suggested a walk in the nearby park, and she was glad for that too. I confess, I had planned this with another woman I was then chasing, for a down-home dinner at a family run little restaurant I know nearby, followed by a walk in this park, wherein I would kiss her. But as Lucy was at hand, and, though nothing so complex in the reaction she evoked in me, she was nonetheless desirable, she answered instead.

Thus we walked hand in hand through the park, along what might have been to her a random path but was in fact in search of a suitably quite corner (no easy thing in a city center on a pleasant day). She anyway said ‘Let's sit' just as I found a place that was suitable. So sit we did. And I began my shtick, scooping her in my arms, kissing her. She was expecting or hoping for it, I guess, and responded, with unease, nervousness, which melted as I kissed deeper, as she got into it. Though not melted wholly, since the tread of passing footsteps cooled her, made her pull away. But from clinch to kiss and away again, she got more hot, until she forgot the stars, forgot the sky, only thought of the body, the passion. I moved slow at first, just laying a hand over her breast as I kissed her. And, there being no demur, I caressed soft, to firmer, to my hand under her silk qipao top, atop her bra, and then a finger under. She jumped and quivered, sighed and open-mouthed pressed against me, stuttering, half-breathing ohmygods and mmms. She broke herself from it after a moment but, sure she was filled with it still, I moved her to sit astride my lap and, as she buried her head in my shoulder I eased a finger over the band of her trousers, and down, again first over her panties and then under, the first sexy feel of pubic hair under my finger, then down lower to the real dividing line, the warmth of the body, its wetness. A touch there is so intimate it can't be dismissed as mere play. Her reaction to this was acute, strong.. and but a shadow of how she was later.

It took some moments to bring that future into shape.. I had never done quite this after all, never so rapidly brought it to sex, and so just saying ‘Shall we go to a hotel?' seemed too crude. But that's pretty much what it came to. And first she said no, said she had to go home; so I cajoled, she wavered; and after a few rounds of this she agreed to it, asking, `Will you spend the whole night with me?' My plan had rather been hit and run, but, hey.

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Friday, May 19, 2006

Adultery and Guilt

Another thing the bulk of my students are sure of; Chinese people love their families and love kids more than Western people do. I don’t doubt families – on the whole – love their own kids, just as in the West. But other people’s kids? A recent scandal in Anhui Province shows the truth of that; 200 kids sickened by dodgy vaccines, and one dead – that’s according to official figures which, of course, must be treated with the proviso that they are much lower that the true figure.

Corruption and dereliction of duty among local health workers and school staff are being blamed for the death of a school pupil after receiving an inoculation. Around 200 students were also taken ill following injections in Sixian County in East China's Anhui Province.

The Beijing Times claims a deal between health providers and schools over vaccinations allowed them all to make money. The newspaper says a recent investigation by the Sixian County government found that students were paying over the odds for the injections. Instead of being charged the usual 6 yuan (72 US cents), 2,500 pupils were charged 25 yuan (US$3) for a Hepatitis A vaccine.

The schools, 19 in 17 villages, were given 1 yuan (12 US cents) commission per vaccine, the Dazhuang Township Healthcare and Epidemic Prevention Station, which sold the vaccines to the schools, kept the rest. From the deal, each school earned 2,500 yuan (US$300), and village doctors who vaccinated the students were offered a bonus. The Beijing Times also claims that some doctors were not qualified to give vaccinations, and had not received any training.

The vaccines initially came from a medicine producer in Hangzhou, capital of East China's Zhejiang Province. Following the incident, the Sixian Public Security Bureau and the county's Drug Administration Bureau sent an investigation team to Hangzhou to check out the firm. They have not yet reported their findings. It is not yet known exactly why the students became ill after receiving the vaccinations, said Wang Zhen, a spokeswoman for the county government.

The vaccines could have been contaminated during transportation. To save costs "the vaccines were not kept cool during their journey," according to the local Drug Administration Bureau.

Also under investigation is a private medicine supplier called Zhang Peng, based in Chuzhou, Anhui Province. Some of the vaccines given to the children are thought to have been supplied by Zhang, who did not have a licence to sell medicine.

Police are looking for Zhang, who disappeared after the accident happened.

So; the kids were no more than stock to make money with, and so keen was the wish to make money the vaccines were not even kept cool. That’s the way… cheat the poor, fuck with their health, to turn a buck. There’s love for children!

I suppose it’s some small measure of light that the above came from the People’s Daily; it’s good that they even mentioned it, let alone with such detail as this. But even so, it is obvious the initial media reaction to the event was to lie, cheat, obfuscate. An AP story says this–

The number of Chinese children sickened by an unauthorized Hepatitis A vaccine that killed one child has risen to 216 from 120, and Premier Wen Jiabao has called for strenuous efforts to ensure their safety, the government said Tuesday. Village doctors gave the Hepatitis A vaccine to about 2,500 children in 19 schools in the eastern province of Anhui without official permission, the official Xinhua News Agency reported.

Xinhua did not explain why the toll of those affected had risen so dramatically some 10 days after vaccine was administered on June 16 and 17.

Meaning, of course, that there was no real rise; the figure was much higher than 120 all along, but was revised down to make it look nicer. I have little faith that the higher figure is accurate either. The People’s Daily report began in the usual way:

Chinese Minister of Health Gao Qiang Sunday passed on Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao's particular attention to the eastern China vaccine accident in a telephone to the Anhui provincial government, demanding strenuous efforts to save the affected pupils.

..mentioning the crooks in power who like to see their names in print; Wen’s demand for ‘strenuous efforts’ (for fuck’s sake, as opposed to what?) being more important that the sick kids. Foul rag that the paper is, even down to its hypocritical, lying title. People’s Daily! Ha, as if the people were of any account here, as if they had any power, any choice.

But enough of this.

The next morning Tingting was up and gone early. This was good, for though I like to have a woman in my arms all night long, I like her to leave early in the morning too, leaving me the day

A day or two after this, she emailed me thus:-


I’m glad to have shared so many wonderful days with you. Since the first time we met, I’ve kept on thinking of you, waiting for your email, phone call or message. I’ve always been eager for our meetings. Thank you very much for giving me a memorable experience.

You told me I should follow my heart. I tried, I really did. But I could not bear that I lay in your arms and at the same time I made a phone call or sent messages and deceived my husband. It was a kind of insult to all three of us.

These feelings are too painful for me to bear. The night we last met, you slept deeply like a baby. I looked at you, at your face, your closed eyes, nose, mouth. Everything was clear but vague too. I realized I didn’t know the guy lying beside me at all. Maybe I knew his outside, but not his inside. And my instinct told me they were different.

That’s why I know I should stop. It is difficult for me to stop seeing you, but this is the decision I’ve made after several days' thorough thinking. Thank you for the enjoyable days and nights we spent together.

With my best wishes.


I was not wholly surprised to get this, though had not expected it quite so soon. But perhaps I should have; that night together she had called her husband from my bed, and even at that time it occurred to me the sheer naked deception of this would soon weigh heavily on her.

And though I felt I would miss her company, and more, her body, I was glad rather than otherwise to get this email. It let the relationship end while it was still hot, end with sweet thoughts of each other, end with her feeling in control, but not thinking I used her. And if we had left our relationship there, she would have thought of me, for the rest of her life, fondly.

I replied:-

My Dear Tingting,

I was expecting your letter.

When you sat on my bed talking to your husband, it seemed quite easy for you at the time. But I knew that, later, when you thought about it, you would find it more and more difficult to accept.

And I know that you are a little bit traditional – though you're not as traditional as you think you are – and that would make it hard for you to live with what you were doing.

But let me say, my Tingting, that I do not think what has happened is at all an insult. It is a private matter between you and me; and I think it is important for every person to explore themselves. You can't spend your live with only one lover, my dear.. you owe it to yourself to follow your desires sometimes. Yes, doing so is difficult, I know; but, even so, you must still live the life you want to live.

However, I do fully understand and accept your decision, and if you want to end, I won't make any fuss at all. But I do ask one thing... try not to feel guilty about what has happened. It was, as I say, a purely personal thing between you and me. And you should keep it that way – just think of it like a little holiday from your normal life. Accept it, and do not feel guilty. And certainly keep it in your heart, as your own, personal secret. Do not feel you should ever tell your husband – that will just make both of you more sad.

Tingting, I'm a little sad that you felt the guy outside and the guy inside are different. Of course, you do not know me very well yet; but really, I am not the kind of guy to lie, to cheat, to pretend. When I am with you I am just my normal self. Of course I do have a more secret, personal side – but so does everyone; and my inner self is not so different from my outer self.

Please believe that everything I said to you was true; you are a fascinating, sexy, unforgettable woman, a great lover and a great friend. I told you once that, if you were not married, you were the kind of woman I could fall in love with. I meant that. It was true. And, to tell you the truth, I had already begun to fall in love with you a little bit.

But I do not want to make your life complicated, Tingting, so I accept that you want to end what we have started. Please believe that my time with you was very important to me, very special, and I will never forget it.

I also hope we can be friends. I'd like that a lot. But of course if we meet together, just you and me, then it might be difficult for us to resist our passions. So maybe instead next time I meet up with a larger group of friends I will invite you along – if you'd like that.

But I’ll do whatever is easiest for you.. and of course we will remain friends, whatever happens. It's up to you to decide where you want to go from now on, what you want to do. I care about you a great deal, and respect you very much, and I will be guided by your wishes in all things. Please be assured that whatever you decide to do will be fine for me; I will not be angry, will never try to force our relationship somewhere you do not want it to go.

With my deepest wishes and affection,


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Tuesday, May 16, 2006

China and Japan

A day or two later she had this to say:

My dear bastard,

I’ve just tuned off my computer, but then I switched it back on to get your email.

I keep on thinking of you, your smile, your action, what you have said, what you have done. It is so easy to shift my attention from what I am doing to you. My bastard, you have disturbed my life! But still I am so glad to have met you, know you, and be with you.



A few days after that first glorious fuck we met again, for lunch and a film – some generic junk – and it was ok, the whiz-bang of the film, its stylized choreographed violence, bad guys raiding the lair of good guys, ballet with bullets. Easy stuff to lap up, for it was typical, mundane, generic – yet how horrific it would seem to one not used to it.

In any case we only paid half attention, cuddling and kissing, passion growing until she went as far massaging my cock through my trousers towards the end of the film. And then we came back here to fuck. Just like the first time, she was bashful at first, bashful out of a sense that she ought be. I do not mean that it was an act – not at all; her modest feelings were genuine, but grew out of her cultural conditioning even so. And so soon she forgot them.

And she really was a remarkable lover, and when she came on top she so got into it, doing this thing with pelvic squeezes which just blasted me. It was a little difficult to get into her at first, causing her pain, but once she’d relaxed, once she had eased herself round my size, she let her feelings go. This night was not quite as fine as before, since her period was due, and this made her tender. But also (she whispered to me) ‘I’m safe’, so that there was no need to hold back when I came. And that was fun. So we fucked, rested, fucked again; and then dinner. I took her to such and such a place, near her home, since she had said she wanted to sleep there that night. I was standing-water as to whether to cajole her harder to stay here, so I let it unfold as it would. In any case, I was broadly sure she would stay if I pressed her to it, and that was enough. Whether she actually did stay or not became less important since I knew the decision rested with me, not her. I had the power, the control; whether I used it was immaterial.

There was one sour note at the restaurant– the jug of beer I ordered arrived warm. I got pretty pissy at this, as the restaurant passes itself as upscale and charges accordingly. Thus I didn’t expect the hick-town warm beer treatment that’s de rigueur for much of the city. It’s about the only thing that riles me; British as I am I have a horror of making a fuss in public, but cold beer is just a red rag. Tingting teased me about my irritation, which was indeed excessive.

Several properly cold beers later, I was, of course, keen to have her in my arms, in my bed, and she agreed to come home as long as I swore not to make love again. Which promise I made easily enough since coming a third time would have taken some effort; and the frenzied thrusting to achieve it would have even more exacerbated the pre-menstrual discomfort she wished to avoid by making me promise not to fuck.

But even so, her smooth lithe body was a delight to undress and made me hard again. Of course I still did not really have another shot in me, but she did not know that. And so this was really the prefect situation, making me look virile (which, male vanity, I enjoy in competition against her husband) and making her feel wanted (which she is; and which, I hope, gives her the self-belief I know her wet fish hubby don’t, for she has no idea of how fine she is).

We did, however, kiss and explore before we slept, and amid this she irritated me a little by biting me. Now I resented this half out of the mere pain of it. But the other, more important half was for the marks it might leave. I only told her the second reason, of course, explaining that bite marks would look unprofessional for my work.

This was not true. The real reason, of course, was that bite marks are the sign of a lover; and thus I would not be able to chase new women or bed any of my current lovers. And so we slept; and it was good to hold her in my arms, her trim, supple body.

There was one other awkward note to that evening. After the cinema, on the tube home, she had noticed me using my phone (sending a message to Tulip; I will introduce her later), a Panasonic, and said ‘We must resist Japanese brands, fight against them!’ striking that aggressive, slightly rabid pose so common here. When I tried to suggest there were more ways of seeing the world than one, tried to suggest that she, as a doctor, ought perhaps have a wider, mature view, she became sulky. Not because I had suggested she was immature but because I suggested the Japanese were not, in fact, all devils. Her attitude saddened me, but I did not pick a fight, letting it go instead. It is not really possible to expunge the years of indoctrination and bigotry Beijing has fed the people since 1989. It just never stops: today's paper reporting that China has impounded a set of Japanese textbooks being sent to a Japanese school here because they show China and Taiwan in different colors.

But given that 99% of everyone I know here would agree with this stand, would puff and fuss and strut at the idea
Taiwan was a separate country, in spite of the clear and obvious truth that it is, in every meaningful way, separate, what can one do? I can explain it step by step, that it has its own laws, its own government, that Beijing has no political or legal or monetary control over it, and they will follow me, will agree. I can say that it has its own history and native language and, less readily, they will agree; yet with all this they will still not accept it is a separate country. And, faced with that level of obtuse ignorance, that stubbornness, what can one do? It is as futile as arguing with creationists.

So few people here are truly able to think, able to see beyond the pabulum whipped up by the government. It’s easier to keep it simple, China good, Japan bad; China right, rest of the world wrong. For example, I tried to pin down Tingting over Beijing’s appalling cover-up of the initial SARS outbreak, to see if she would accept that China owed the world an apology since, as a doctor, she must accept that it was the initial cover up that stymied efforts to stop the spread of the disease, letting it leap to Hong Kong and then the world. Doctors in the region wanted to announce the disease so that people could take safety measures; but they were shut down by the government since this happened at the time of a big Communist Party meeting.

These wretched events are wholly choreographed, and no bad news must be allowed to get in the way of the outrageous parade of filth and lies they generate – days of rubbish about how good the Party has been for China, when in truth it has created vast misery, suffering, pain and the deaths of millions upon millions.

But while Tingting accepted Beijing was at fault, she would not accept it owed anyone an apology – while being quite sure Japan, which (unlike China) has attacked no-one in the last 50 years, did.

This rising tide of Nationalism is dangerous. When people as educated as Tingting buy into the lies, anger and hate, then the future is worrying indeed.

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Monday, May 15, 2006

Aftermath of Adultery

My mind dwelling on that passionate night, I wrote to her:-

My dear Tingting,

How nice to exchange emails with you this evening. What I told you is true - -I really have been thinking of you a lot since Tuesday. And not just about what happened Tuesday night, though that was glorious, passionate, unforgettable; but also I have been thinking a lot just about being with you, spending time in your company. You’re confident, funny, and strong, a person of wonderful qualities. I like the way you smile, your dark, flashing eyes and your silky black hair, your delicate hands and your wonderful, glowing skin.

You said in one of your messages that your heart was full of fear. Believe me, I do understand that. It’s true you don’t know me very well, and I’m sure you’ve heard lots of stories about how bad and uncaring foreign guys can be. And I’m sorry to have to admit those stories are often true.

It’s also true that I am a bad guy, for urging you to come back to my place when I knew you were a married woman. Maybe I should not have done that. But, my dear Tingting, you are a wonderful, remarkable woman and I did very much want to be with you; and I do want to be with you in the coming weeks and months too. I swear to you I am not married, and what happened was, I hope, not just a one-night thing. I want to know you better, to get to find out who you really are. I am, mostly, quite a serious guy when it comes to love and sex, and so I do want there to be something more between us than just that one night. Of course, since you are married, we cannot be together permanently… but we can still spend time with each other, share some of our life together.

I am fully aware that you must be feeling a little guilty right now. But I urge you not to feel that way – what we shared was our own private secret, just between you and me. it is good to have passion in your life, and I think that with all the work you have to do at the hospital there is no much room for passion in your life.

And you are a passionate woman.. I know you think you are a `traditional’ woman, but I am not quite sure that’s true. I think underneath your traditional outside there is, inside, a bold and passionate and sexy woman…and I saw some of that side of you, your passion, your sense of freedom and adventure – oh, now, I want to be explicit, straightforward about what I felt, about everything that happened that night… but I guess that might still embarrass you!

All in all, I just want to say: believe me, trust me. I won’t cheat you or lie to you. Of course I can’t make you believe that just by telling you. But let’s just be together and then, I hope, you will come to see I am trustworthy, and kind. Let’s just see where this thing we have started goes..

I’m thinking of you…


Your B___



To which she said, among other things:-

I am a simple woman so I told you my fears. Yes, I am afraid that you’ll lie to me. If you are a serious guy in love and sex, would you have brought a condom in your bag? Believe me, I am not censuring you. It is your business how you live your life. And nobody -- including you -- has forced me to do what I did. Maybe in the end I will be deeply hurt. But that is a price I am willing to pay. But I worry about my husband. I feel guilty just pursuing my own happiness. He is innocent and does nothing wrong. You said what we shared was our own secret, so my husband will not know. But can you understand the guilt is in my mind and my heart?

You need not swear to me that you are not married. That’s your business. I’m married too so I have no right to interfere your life. And even if we were both single we would still have our own space in our hearts and souls

I am indeed a traditional woman. I want to follow a traditional life. I want to follow the Chinese pattern because my style of thinking is traditional too. Yes, sometimes I am a little bold. But it’s hard for me.

Let me see what you are.

I kiss you goodnight.


To this I replied:-

Dear Tingting,

It was very nice to find your email waiting for me when I got up this morning. It made getting up so early (7 o’clock… very early for a lazy guy like me) a lot more pleasurable.

Well, I am glad you are thinking about me. As I say, you’re on my mind too, and I have been thinking about you and thinking about that night a lot.

I’m sorry that you have a lot of worries about this, but I do understand. And I know the fact I had a condom in my bag worried you, too. Well, I am not really the kind of guy who’s into casual sex; for me, it is important that emotion is involved. In fact that bag was my traveling bag, for when I go to teach in other cities, and the condom was there from a time when I was involved with a person in Hangzhou. But that’s been over for quite a long time. In general I don’t have a lot of sexual partners. Of course there’s no way for you to know that’s true, and since you are a doctor I am sure you are more aware than others of sexual diseases. But I am a clean and healthy guy, and indeed the results from the blood test on my health check-up show that. In fact, next time I see you, I will show you my blood test results so you can explain to me what they all mean. I understand the main ones, but there are lots of other results that I do not understand.

Dear, it is quite natural for you to feel guilty about your husband. That’s a normal, healthy reaction. But also I think it is o.k. for you to explore your own passions and feelings.

In my time as a teacher I have met many young Chinese women who were in unsatisfying marriages. Their husbands were decent, kind, reliable people. But again and again they told me their husbands also lacked passion, that they were unimaginative and not very exciting. Now of course passion and excitement are not the most important things in marriage or in life. But they are, even so, a big part of life. And everyone has a right to passion and excitement. And that’s why I think it is o.k. for us to be together. You can still care for and love your husband; with me you are just looking for something he cannot provide, perhaps. Dear, life is short; people must make the most of life while they can. Yes, I know you feel guilt; but your husband will never know about this. This is part of your life only, not his; you told me you give him a lot of freedom, and I guess there are parts of his life which are private to him, too – parts which you know nothing about. Dear, this is just the way life works.

You tell me you are traditional, and that you want to follow a traditional pattern. But if you can choose which pattern you want to follow, then that means you are not `really’ traditional, you are just `choosing’ to be, since it is the easiest way in this society, and it is the way you have been brought up. And then you say your thinking is traditional – but again I think that is just because you are used to it, not because it is your `real’ character.

For example, when we were together that night, you were uncomfortable with the light being on. And the next morning, when it was light, you told me you had never made love in the morning like that; but we did anyway, and – you see? – it was not at all difficult, was it? And I liked it because, my dear Tingting, you have a wonderful, glorious, beautiful body; I have found it very hard to stop thinking about your beautiful skin, your lovely, smooth soft breasts, your sexy, smooth delicate stomach, your sweet and graceful legs and arms.. oh, and, of course, between your legs, how beautiful you are, how sexy, how perfect! Tingting, your body is to be admired, worshipped… not to be hidden in the dark. You should be proud of your beauty, style and grace. You know, I could just sit looking at you, naked, for hours. You are a work of art.. you really are.

I hope all that does not embarrass you too much? But if it does.. dear, you might just have to get used to it, since I will find it hard not to say these things to you in the future.

You also say that you have no right to interfere in my life. And of course, to an extent we must keep out lives separate. But even so, I do want to share myself with you, to let you see and understand all parts of my life; I don’t want to hide anything much from you. But also I do not want to take up too much of your time… because this situation is far more difficult for you than it is for me; and so I will never demand, or expect anything from you, and will never push you to be with me more than you want to be with me. And if, later, you decide you want to stop what has happened between us, then I will fully understand, I will make no fuss.

Ok, that will be enough for one email.

With my affection, and many kisses –


And most of that was true.

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Sunday, May 14, 2006

Fucking Tingting

I am not quite the guy for a one-night stand. Casual sex, sure, yes – dinner followed by fuck, that’s great. But I like it to last longer than one night, to pull it out to a few days or weeks. And in the case of Tingting, I would have liked it to be semi-permanent.

So the day after we fucked we traded a few sms messages. These began benign enough, with her messaging me to tell me the name of a book she’d tried to remember over dinner the night before. I ended my reply with saying that I was thinking of her, to which she replied `..What do you think about met? That I’m bad woman?’

‘A wonderful woman.. a sweet, sexy, beautiful, passionate woman I want to spend more time with..’ I replied.

`Do you have other adjectives? 华心巧语.'

`哦,很多,很多,fascinating, charming, graceful, lithe, intoxicating, exhilarating, erotic, bewitching, and so very beautiful..’

‘If I need adjectives to describe a woman later I will consult you.. but seriously speaking, I think about you too.’

`I am very glad about that. I want to spend more time with you. Do you want to see me again?’

`When will you be free? Aren’t you busy i dating other ladies? 嘻嘻’

‘Other women? I only think of you. Well, I am free this Sunday, but all next week I’m really busy, class morning, noon and night!’

All this was true. I was only thinking of her -- that day -- and did not deny dating others. Not that this was in any way an excuse, for I was still deceiving her.

She said:

‘I have a research project, then I might go to Taizhou to visit my husband. Maybe we can meet in a week’s time.’

I have to say I found this message rather exciting… that she could think about me and mention her husband in the same breath… It’s a turn on, gives me a rush of power, of sexual confidence, of bedroom victory. This is the pack-animal male in me, the pride in taking another man’s mate.

Naturally I wanted to see her again soon – but I did not suggest this. In part just because my place needed a clean up, but more because a wait will make her more keen. So I messaged:-

‘Ok, then let’s meet the week after next.. dear, I miss you’

and to this she replied:-

‘My heart is full of fear. I don’t know you well. Frankly, I cannot even tell if you are telling the truth or lying. I am lost in your world.’

So I said:-

`I know you are scared, worried, but I hope you will learn to trust me. I will email you again tonight – I sent you a mail last night also – to answer your message more fully’

I spend most of that day lying on my bed thinking of her, her body, her smooth belly, delicate, elegant pussy, cute little asshole – which, by the by, I did put I finger up, and she said nothing for a minute or two, before her cultural conditioning kicked in and she said, `No, don’t, it’s dirty’; which, as a doctor, she must know is not quite true.

This conservative nature of hers is a veneer, however; and I have found this to be true with many Chinese women.

Sure, on the outside they can seem prim, reserved; and even when taken to bed this can persist. It is, I say, cultural conditioning, and I can only assume that Chinese woman behave in bed the way they do because that’s what Chinese men like. Thus with Tingting, as I have said, the first time we fucked she wanted the lights off, flinched when I went down on her and the like.

But it does not take much to dump these shackles; some caresses, kisses, and most of all the verbal encouragement of `It is ok.. this is natural, normal, healthy’ will work a wonderful change. Yes, to tell the woman `In bed we are equal… you must show your feelings, follow your desires… do to me what you want to do..’ can be enough.

I believe that Chinese women are creatures of passion, eroticism and desire, of creativity and joy in bed. But they are taught to believe all this is wrong, that it is dirty, that they should just lie back, in the dark, for the two or three minutes it takes the average Chinese guy to come. They are taught it, I say, and try to live up to it; but such is their passionate nature that they never truly believe this lesson. And so one does not have to delve very deep to bring this true nature out. A few words, some tender care, a joyful, open attitude to sex and the woman will turn from a squib to firecracker.

And thus I knew that the passionate, uninhibited psyche that beat beneath Tingting’s apparent conventionality could be freed. Indeed, signs of this inner nature were clear even on that first fuck, for she talked a little dirty to me as she rode me. Nothing too elaborate, just , `大坏蛋’ and later, when I had told her the English translation, `Bastard, bastard, my big bastard.’ Saying these words turned her on even more, and it made sense to me that it would, for this was showing a passion and desire that she could surely never voice in front of her unimaginative husband.

Ah, her smooth sweet belly, her breasts, her pussy…

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