"How about being fucked by an ordinary stud?"
"Mmmm… honey… I thought you'd never ask. But take it easy, okay? My cunt is sore from being stretched by that crazy, black cock!" Two minutes later she didn't even know it was sore. She was too busy fucking me with those quick, violent lunges of her cunt I'd come to know so well, and her moans weren't from pain… she was grunting from fuck joy.
Chapter 9
It was one month to the day since I'd cured the beautiful black Anna of her phobia. I'd managed to reinforce my handiwork twice afterward in two violently sensual fuck sessions before she walked to the altar. She was a real unique piece of cunt, one I'd never forget.
Three days after my last session with Anna, George Sherman called again. "Jack, how would you like to serve your country?" he said in almost hushed secrecy. "No, thanks, Doc, I already gave my all to Uncle Sam, remember?"
"Nothing like that, Jack… This is big, and very hush-hush!" The poor bastard sounded serious.
"Anything I can do without putting on a uniform is fine with me, Doc. Now… what's the big secret?"
I'll brief you later. Just get a good night's rest and be ready to receive guests at seven P.M. tomorrow!" he answered, then hung up.
I followed his orders by eating an early dinner and hitting the sack with the newspaper in preparation for a full eight hours of restful sleep. As I drowsily scanned the news page of the Times, my eye was caught by a photo on the front page. It showed two people. A man and a woman. Both were Oriental. He was a squat, powerfully built guy with a rugged, ice-cold face. She was undeniably beautiful. The news story disclosed that the couple was none other than Chou Sung and Madame Sung, from China. He was making a reciprocal visit, on behalf of China's Prime Minister, for the recent visit of our President to The Peoples' Republic of China. Idly, I noted that they would be spending a week in Los Angeles.
What really impressed me was the subdued beauty of Madame Sung. Even the bad reproduction of the news photo couldn't hide the splendid nuances of such Oriental beauty. As I turned off the lights to seek slumber, the image of her face was still impressed on my mind.
At precisely seven o'clock the next evening the door chimes sounded. It was George Sherman.
"Well, well, the mountain comes to Mohammed," I quipped. George had never visited me or the super-sex pad. His presence verified that he had been serious about the importance of my next subject.
"Cut the comedy, Jack; I'm here at the request of the State Department," he replied. "Joyce isn't exactly pleased by this little project. Sometimes I don't understand her at all."
The image of his lush, sensuous wife flashed into my mind; thighs spread wide, moving that glorious cunt in slow fuck motions, motioning me to fuck her. George was right; he didn't understand Joyce. She was a born sex machine. God! My cock tingled as my memory flooded my mind with vivid flashes of her large, meaty tits flopping above as she rode up and down the rigid length of my cock, grunting obscenities and fuck talk as she shuddered in lustful joy of the fuck.
"Okay, George-give! What's the big flap about?"
Tn approximately thirty minutes a woman will walk in here to be serviced. She isn't just an ordinary woman, Jack. She's the wife of a very important foreign official."
"You're kidding," I exclaimed. "Since when does the State Department supply stud service to wives of visiting dignitaries?"
"Yeah, I know; but this is a special case. That's why it has to be handled carefully," he exclaimed.
"So, that's why you're here-to make sure it's handled carefully," I countered sarcastically.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Jack, you're too goddamned mature for ego reactions. I told 'em it would be better for you to handle it alone, but they insisted. I guess they're more than a little nervous about the entire idea and want me to take the blame if things go sour. Shit… I've got enough troubles without this scene."
"Why didja agree?"
"Well, the government made me an offer I couldn't refuse," he chuckled wryly.
"Take on this project; execute it successfully and a continuous annual grant to the Institute would be assured. Refuse it, or muff it… well, sex research institutes are vulnerable to all kinds of restrictive legislation."
"Blackmail?" I exclaimed.
"You could call it that!" he muttered.
"So, we don't muff it," I stated. "We make sure the lady gets a good rousing fuck and that's that."
"I wish it were that simple. Foreign females have strange ideas about sex and are easily offended; particularly Chinese women!"
It suddenly became clear! Madame Sung, the wife of Chou Sung! Holy Christ!
"Madame Sung looks reasonable to me, George."
His head snapped up and his eyes widened in surprise. "How the goddamned hell did you… "
"George, don't forget; I do read the newspaper,… between cunts," I retorted.
"Oh… sorry, Jack. No offense, you just surprised me," he apologized.
"Why don't you brief me; we only have about ten minutes." He nodded in agreement as he glanced at his watch.
"The request came to the State Department via one of Madame Sung's personal aides. I didn't realize it, but Chinese women have gained complete equality with men over there, but overtones of the old ways still temper their actions. The women do as they please, but very discreetly, so as not to let the men lose faith. Basically, Madame Sung is both curious and a little frustrated. She has heard that Anglo males are rather well-hung, to put it bluntly, compared to Oriental men. She's right, of course. Being born and raised in China, she hasn't had a chance to experience sex with outsiders. She's more than a little pissed off about it since she knows her husband has laid Anglo females during various diplomatic junkets. Now, she figures it's her turn, but she can't afford to let her husband suspect."
"Yes, George, you're right. A very delicate problem. How do you suggest we proceed?"
"I'm gonna play it by ear, Jack. Just follow my lead and…" The door chimes interrupted his reply. I opened the door. She was absolutely beautiful but very tiny.
"Welcome, Madame," I greeted softly and bowed.
"Thank you," she replied in a curiously accented voice. "I hope my rather unusual request hasn't inconvenienced you." Her English was very good, but spoken in a slightly sing-song rhythm.
As she stepped inside I studied her closely. Lustrous, raven-black hair adorned her head in a highly complex, sculptured hair fashion. It gave her added height. Her face was all Chinese. A broad, smooth forehead, beautiful almond-shaped eyes, a small, well-shaped nose with flaring nostrils, and a small, lush mouth with full, soft lips. As I helped her remove her cape-like coat, I nearly gasped with delight at her figure. Beneath a gossamer cheon-sam of the sheerest silk, two perfectly molded breasts strained against the flimsy confinement of the garment. Anointing the crest of these two firm, meaty mounds, unusually large nipples stood erect and inviting.
Her eyes studied my face as she became aware of my scrutiny. "I am pleased, that my breasts are acceptable," she smiled. Her black eyes sparkled with wickedness. T hope the remainder of my body meets with the same approval."
She moved away from me into the main room of the apartment with deliberate, sensual movements. Below the tiny waist moved two of the most luscious, rounded butt cheeks I've ever seen. They rose and fell with each fluid step, grinding smoothly against each other beneath the sheer silken material of her dress. It was her walk; she was a hot-blooded, sensual woman just asking to be fucked.
George greeted her quite formally and handed her a cocktail. She had sat gracefully on the enormous couch and crossed her legs. Her almond eyes studied me closely as I crossed the room to get a drink for myself. I could almost feel her eyes scanning the bulge in my slacks.