Three weeks ago, I had met Quyen, a young woman who was working at the HR department at the large International School in our small, nondescript town here, in the center of Vietnam. Hesitatingly, I had applied there last September, as the school didn’t have a great reputation and seemed to be on a downward slope.

I had still been curious to check out the facilities and the classrooms on the campus, which resembled a fortress, but my impressions weren’t favorable. Everything was much too grand and, more importantly, too cold. Said Quyen had been the only ray of light among the rather inhospitable, lifeless, and clinical environment.

Well, at least I had met her. The young, twenty-three- or twenty-four-year-old lady had shown me around a bit, before the interview and had remained a positive memory for months. In the end, the International School didn’t even bother to turn me down properly, and so, I had already filed the whole ordeal in my head.

Until Quyen had contacted me again to ask if I wouldn’t be willing to, at least, work part-time for the school. Which was tempting, as the hourly wage would have been high, and they would have scrapped some of the annoying dress-code requirements. But, every time I met teachers in town, who were working there, they strongly advised me to stay away from the place.

Since I had saved money and could live off interest and other miscellaneous sources of income, for the time being, I eventually even declined working at the school part-time, which prompted Quyen to meet with me for coffee; just the two of us, across the street from her workplace.

Perhaps she was curious as to why I hadn’t accepted the highest hourly wage they had ever offered to anyone. Or her boss had coaxed her into meeting me again, thinking – rightfully so – that I was a sucker for young Asian women. Or Quyen would receive a nice commission if she procured a new foreign teacher. So I thought.

But things had turned out completely different. Precisely because I wasn’t going to work for the International School, Quyen had felt free to offer herself. She had had a boyfriend at university, who desperately wanted to study in Australia and thus had left her, while her two young female colleagues in the office often talked about sex.

In the end, it looked like she felt too young to be left behind and was ready for an adventure. Or two. And so, we bought fresh summer rolls for lunch, after the half-an-hour at the café. We had wanted to eat at the park across from the older, vacant hotel where our orgy troupe had been meeting for almost three years but, when Quyen learned that I had the keys to the hotel in my pocket, nothing could stop her.

Quyen had been to said hotel about fifteen years prior, as a child, when relatives had been visiting town, and she remembered the large, beautiful chandelier hanging in the atrium. The icing on the proverbial cake was, however, when she proposed we go up to the roof for our picnic. No one of our orgy posse had ever thought of going up there.

Luckily, we found a hatch that we could open, since – as Quyen later admitted – the unusual location proved to be the catalyst to her offering herself completely that day. Initially, our meeting for coffee and lunch had been meant to be some sort of feeling each other out, she told me afterward, but the view and the breeze had simply left her breathless and overwhelmed her.

Are we going to do it quickly? Quyen asked, after we had finished our lunch; like it would have been a waste if two sexually active people had come all the way up to the roof of the hotel and then not twirled their loins. So, she spread herself on the two gray, thick army blankets, which we had found in the maid’s chamber on the sixth floor.

After which, Quyen had removed her panties, folded her skirt up onto her belly, and spread her legs. She had left her clothes on, since it wasn’t too warm, which I had found hot; especially, since Quyen had opened her bra and pulled up her HR polo-shirt with the logo of the International School on the front.

Right when we were getting ready to fuck, she already promised to present herself completely naked, the next time – on the roof of the old vacant hotel, of course – which turned out to be difficult, though. First, it had rained for a few days, but then it was too cold and rather windy.

The following week then, Quyen was ovulating, she had told me. Apparently, she was familiar with the purpose of menstruation and how it was connected to her fertility cycle, so she urged me to do it this week, before she would get her period again. I would have banged her unctuous sheath, too, but then, with no shower in sight, it would have been a mess. Neither did she need to know that I was into period sex.

But Quyen was right. The weather was supposed to be colder again the following week. Enticing me further, she told me that she had started masturbating under her desk at work and, one evening, she even sent me a photo of her beautiful pussy boat hull in panties, under her grey office skirt. Which had been taken in her bedroom, though, it seemed.

Anyway, as I was eager not to waste the invitation to such an enthralling project, I asked her if Monday would work. Quyen suggested to skip coffee but promised to get fresh summer rolls again. She was right, again. We didn’t need much foreplay as we both already knew what our meeting would be all about.

Quyen also told me that she definitely wanted to do it twice, this time. She then sent me a picture of her substantial naked boobs, before she managed to take a selfie of her dazzling naked snatch, too. Quyen knew how stunning I found her pussy, which, in many ways, I found more beautiful than her face, as strange and callous as that might sound.

Quyen’s face was just oval and plain, with a stubby nose. Yes, her mouth was lovely, but her teeth were slightly crooked. She had dimples, though, which was a plus, and an endearing smile. Her snatch, on the other hand, was an elegantly elongated boat hull with perfect, hazelnut outer lips, on which there was just the right amount of pitch-black hair.

Her straight – barely crinkled – and naturally protruding inner labia, however, were of an intense mauve, forming an almost four-inch-long line at the bottom of her torso, which one was able to spot if she was standing upright or walking naked, although her bush was actually quite substantial.

The last time, I had only been able to see this most beautiful pair of inner labia for like a minute or two and not licked it, either. Like I said, it had been a tad nippy up on the roof on that fine yet grey day in early December. I had kept my thick, long-sleeved shirt on for the fuck, while she had remained fully dressed during the act.

Apart from her awesome snatch, the second-best part was when Quyen sat down on the low wall to pee, still fully dressed, with her panties around her left thigh. She had giggled and blushed, of course, and urged me not to watch her, but there was nothing I could do. Her cheeky act of cheerful urination had tickled me to no end.

Of course, I wanted her to pee on me, this time, and also lick her silly. I was glad that she was as eager as I was to revel in our urges and bodily fluids and promised myself to really take my time to ensure she would never forget that lunch hour – for which she would even bring clothes to change and towels in a gym bag, as she told me around ten that morning.

Sweet. And considerate. When Quyen apologized for not being able to dress up or wear make-up – so that her colleagues wouldn’t get suspicious – I assured her that would be fine. We would undress quickly, anyway, as soon as we had closed the screeching metal entrance door behind us.

While Quyen was getting the summer rolls, I procured some drinks and then waited for her around 11:20 outside the hotel, smoking. The good thing about those rolls was that we could eat them with one hand, like a sandwich, while we could fondle each other’s bodies during lunch.

The weather wasn’t quite as good as I thought it might be, but it was decent, perhaps eightey-two degrees and friendly grey, with the sun peeking through the clouds, here and there. The forecast had warned about some splashes over lunch – as if they knew that Quyen and I would be up on the roof of the hotel here.

If it rained, we could still utilize the maid’s chamber on the sixth floor, which Quyen also found cozy and wanted to have sex in, one day. I had already been up there for loin twirls maybe five times, altogether, with Nguyet and Thuy, Mira and Charlie, and also Sally.

And once even my beloved Anna, whose actual name was Lam, and who was easily the most beautiful young lady I have ever laid my eyes upon. The old wooden floorboards gave the maid’s bower a nice vintage smell, and I sometimes imagined all those young maids’ sweaty, moist panties on the bed.

Smoking outside the hotel, waiting for Quyen, I wondered how much my sexual energy was actually fueled by our awkward beginning at her unpleasant workplace. Was I so keen on banging her, as I loathed everything about the school where she worked? Was my abhorrence what was driving my loins? Did she have similar feelings?

Probably not, as she was pretty happy with her job and employer, it seemed. For her, the adventure to have sex with a married, hunky, broad-shouldered foreigner with blue eyes, who was twice her age, was perhaps the primary driving force. Maybe, I would ask her later today.

Our relationship was a bit odd, as neither of us had a crush on the other. She wasn’t really my type, as nondescript and womanly, almost strapping, as she was; I preferred skinny, cuter, shorter ladies. And yeah, it all had begun when I had turned her down. Repeatedly. Albeit indirectly. But, since I had refused to work with her, there wouldn’t be any entanglement, and we could go for coffee, she had decided. And fuck.

I wondered briefly if Nguyet or Mira had been here, to the vacant hotel, in the meantime; perhaps with Nguyet’s fiancé Hiroshi, and also if our masseuse Ly had gotten pregnant yet. She was a young widow in her late thirties, who had decided she wanted to conceive a child out of wedlock. With Hiroshi’s handsome chauffeur, Khoa.

But there she was, the young HR lady, Quyen, with her purple polo and grey pleated skirt, which ended around her knees. She was wearing white socks and blue sneakers again, just like the last time she had been here with me. As if I wanted to read the logo on her chest, I marveled at her heaving bosom, as she was driving past me, smiling in anticipation.

The look on her face reeked of sex, like she was already wet between her tight thighs. Yes, she couldn’t wait to fuck again; twice, up on the roof. Completely naked, this time. I pulled the screeching metal door closed behind us, before I put the padlock through the latch to make sure we would remain undisturbed.

As soon as Quyen had gotten off her Honda, we smooched for only God knows how long. Just like the last time, she even reached under her polo to snap her bra open. Between kisses, she told me that she couldn’t wait and, when she pulled up her shirt and bra, I couldn’t, either. I bent forward to lick and bite her nipples, which had lots of whitish little blisters under the dark-red surface, with my lips.

“Douglas, if we don’t stop, we’ll never get up on the roof,” giggled Quyen, obviously pleased how much I desired her.

“Your tits are just awesome,” I panted in response. ”I’m so glad we can do everything right here.”

Now, I bent forward again to grab the hem of her skirt, which I then lifted up to admire her legs, which were as light as milk. Her young skin was super smooth, and we both knew how much we were lusting after each other.

I could see the cogs turning behind her forehead; she was perhaps torn between doing it right here, or postponing everything, until we would get up to the roof. We were panting like after a race and, when I pulled down her white simple panties to be able to admire her wonderful lap and pussy, she didn’t flinch.

We kissed again, during which I fondled her labia, but then she even relinquished her underwear. Nonchalantly, she handed me her panties to sniff, and what shall I say, the sourish aroma plus the messenger substances lifted me up to another level in no time, but then Quyen grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the staircase.

Hang on! I said, since I needed to grab the bags with the beverages and the ice, as well as the two old blankets, which we had thrown in the washer three weeks earlier. I had hung them up later that day; here, over the banister. Like she wanted to distract me from herself, Quyen nodded upward with her chin to point out the classy chandelier.

As if I had never seen it. The fact that she was naked under her skirt was driving me up the wall. But she was right. If we stopped here, on the steps, to fuck a little, we would undress, and I would come before we could reach the fourth floor, where the only furnished room of the whole hotel was.

Once, I had tried exactly that, with butch Emily – another sex-starved young woman, who I had met through a mutual acquaintance. Emily and I had undressed down in the lobby and then fucked a little – or actually quite a bit – on each floor. And only reached the third floor, where the old bar was.

Anyway, Quyen and I were already on the fourth now and went into the semi-furnished, fairly nice room, which Emily and her girlfriend Sally – as well as others, later – had decorated over the months they had been coming here. The last time, I had already shown Quyen this room – which did look like someone had been here, in the meantime – on the way down, after our tryst on the roof.

We put the food and drinks on the table, before we kissed once more, profusely. While I was again thinking of grinding off the peaks of our arousal right away, Quyen reminded me that we had agreed to do it twice on the roof and suggested we take a shower, first.

“I’ll pee and then we’ll shower together. We leave our things here and go upstairs,” Quyen smiled, like she had played out this scene twenty times already in her mind.

Her smile, while she was nonchalantly undressing, was so endearing, however, that I decided to hand myself over to her. Her wishes would be my commands; we couldn’t go wrong that way. Yes, she had conceived a plan for today, which wouldn’t leave anything to be desired, I was sure.

And it wouldn’t have been fair to deny her anything that she had planned out and been looking forward to over the last three weeks. And then, taking a shower together was a nice intermediary step to more salacious and ribald endeavors; especially, since we had never showered together and didn't know each other all that well.

When Quyen wanted to sit down on the toilet, though, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shower. She could pee there, onto my feet – just like I could piss on hers. And so, I was able to admire her naked body for the first time. Unencumbered and fresh, although there was no light here, in the bathroom.

No one had ever thought of replacing the bulb, and there was no window, either. At least, the door was open, so that we were able to see each other fairly well. I was surprised that our almost unbridled desire downstairs had so quickly turned into a sincere interest and tenderness.

While Quyen was checking out my chest hair and thick noodle, I simply let go, and the jet cheerfully splashed on her belly. We watched the tepid liquid running down through her bush, which prompted her to let go as well. Tenderly, I placed the palm of my hand under her living-room fountain, and we giggled like teens.

Yes, our determination had given way to playful exploration, which brought smiles onto our faces. Quyen had probably never peed in a guy’s presence, but she seemed to enjoy and understand the allure of such a taboo-laden yet innocent act.

Yes, as hot as it would be to piss onto each other up on the roof, there wasn’t a way to rinse our skin. As fond as I was of young women’s fresh urine, in the tropical heat, the smell would quickly turn unpleasant. Well, we could take a large bottle of water upstairs, though, or I could simply drink Quyen’s pee.

When she saw that I was sniffing my hand, Quyen did the same, but the tepid water had already washed off most of the aroma. Which didn’t really matter, as we would need to piss one more time, anyway. Upstairs.

After we had soaped each other’s bodies and rinsed, she turned; perhaps she wanted me to wash her butthole. So, I soaped my hand again and fondled her cheeks, before I pried them apart to see what her sphincter was like. It seemed rather large, not too deep, and malleable, as I was even able to push the tip of my index finger in. Nice.

“Do you want to try anal sex, at some point?” I asked her, of course.

She turned her head and smiled. “Sure. We could try…”

“So, you haven’t?” I inquired, just to make sure.

“No, not yet,” Quyen smiled again. “My boyfriend never said he wanted to…”

“But the peeing together, a minute ago, was alright?”

“Oh, yeah, sure… we’re under the shower, anyway. No, that was nice, actually…”

Naturally, I liked her curiosity and nonchalance, and I was surprised again how my horniness had dissipated and turned into something more constructive. I was looking forward to some slow exploration of our bodies up on the roof and, the way things were looking, we would meet again soon to, maybe, let go completely.

“Let me rinse your cute little hole back here,” I whispered, while I was pecking her neck, to which she just nodded and giggled endearingly.

So, I took the showerhead out of its holder and went to work. I didn’t check if anything was leaking out of her rectum, but reached around her fine torso to fondle her heavy, mature boobs. Quyen, in turn, reached back to search for my dangling cock, which she then squeezed for a bit, until she suggested we turn off the water and go upstairs.

In the room, we dried each other with the two towels she had brought from home, like she wanted to make the hotel her second.

“They can stay here,” she even added, “Just like the other things I’ve brought.”

“What else did you bring over?” I chuckled.

“Flip-flops, a blanket, wet wipes. And napkins. And a big bottle of water,” she laughed. “If we do it up on the roof, but want to eat in between, we gotta be able to wash our hands,” she reminded me.

“Clever.” I nodded. “Especially the flip-flops.”

For some reason, she now put on an older white T-shirt, which she had pulled from the depths of her backpack. Quyen even placed a pair of orange sports shorts and a fresh pair of panties on the table, before she added that it would feel strange to carry her bag upstairs on her naked back.

Yes, it had been clever to bring all those items, like we were going on a camping trip. And, of course, she looked super-hot just in her T-shirt, with no pants or panties. Her large dark bush was protruding, and I was able to spot her four-inch mauve cleft underneath. I decided to go upstairs naked, apart from my sandals, which weren’t much more than spiffy flip-flops, anyway.

“I think it’s super-hot that you’re naked, apart from your T-shirt,” I told her, as I grabbed her hand.

“I wanted to wear the sports shorts, but if you’re naked … I’ve never done anything like that. I wanna try it,” she giggled.

I ruffled her fur, like a pet’s, before I took her hand again, ogling her large breasts under the thin, somewhat worn fabric of her seasoned T-shirt. Her nipples were pressing through nicely, and I felt the onset of an erection.

On the fifth floor, we paused to kiss, and I put the bags down on the floor to properly fondle her whole healthy body. I caressed her cool naked butt cheeks again, before slid my middle finger through her mauve cleft to then lick her fresh nectar off the tip.

“Your thing is nicely big,” she remarked and smiled, just like the last time we had been here.

“Your load was also bigger than what I’m used to,” she was impressed, giggling abashedly.

“Yeah, I don’t have much to compare, but my muse Nguyet has said so in the past.”

I had told Quyen that Nguyet and I were having an affair, which had already lasted six years.

“If that’s possible, I’d love to watch you come,” Quyen told me now, but then we agreed that that would be kind of a waste.

“Well, maybe when you’re ovulating,” I relented, although I would have much rather fucked her in the ass then.

We had long grabbed out bags again and continued our ascent. We had passed the maid’s chamber without commenting on it, as the weather was almost perfect for what we were trying to do, up on the roof.

When we put the ladder in position, I ruffled her fur again and twiddled her clit, before we profusely smooched again. Just when I wanted to climb up the ladder, first, Quyen pressed her cheek into my chest hair and almost sobbed, “Douglas, I can’t believe that we’re doing this… that we gonna have sex again up there.”

I was about to confess that I hadn’t found her particularly attractive, the first time I had met her but decided to keep that detail to myself. It wasn’t the moment, anyway, and technically she didn’t need to know. Instead, I stammered some besotted, eager lines, holding her face in my hands – thinking of her fabulous pussy, just opposite my balls.

Well, it would be much better to do it on the bed downstairs once, as I could lick and eat her snatch much more easily than up here on the blankets, which weren’t too comfortable. But then, we only had an eight-week-window to fuck outdoors.

By the end of March, it would be too hot again, most likely, and in early May, the sun would be up at a 90-degree angle above Vietnam. And then again in early August. Rainy season started in late September and ended in early December, but then it was often cool, and it could rain a bit any day.

Eventually, I made it up the ladder, and then Quyen passed me our picnic and all the other things we had with us, including the blankets, before she joined me on the roof. Yeah, the wind and the view were invigorating, just like the last time we had been here.

Today, however, we both knew already what was about to unfold here, above the roofs of the city. We spread the blankets roughly where we had lain down the previous time, and then I got to watch how Quyen was joyfully relieving herself of her old T-shirt. We grabbed our hands and walked along the low wall but quickly lay down on the blankets.

Quyen was lolling on her right-hand side, like a teenager at the beach, with one hand supporting her head. I had placed myself opposite her, of course, on my left-hand side. Weighing one of her boobs in my hand, we chatted a bit, before we nibbled on our lips and then skin – all over our bodies.

When she was playing with my noodle, I told Quyen that I was still surprised that she had wanted to go for coffee with me, almost three weeks back.

“I had turned down the job offer down multiple times,” I chuckled. “So, in some ways, I also refused you. And I’m twice your age…”

Quyen smiled mysteriously, perhaps weighing what she would tell me and what she should hold back.

“Oh, Mister Douglas, you are a handsome man. You look a bit like a famous actor. And you are not that old, definitely younger than my dad,” she smiled.

I wasn’t even sure about that but didn’t say anything. Quyen must have seen my CV among my application documents, including my date of birth, but perhaps she truly didn't care. And pretty much everyone thought I was younger, anyway. True.

“Do you know what, also?! When I go out with a guy my age, we often don’t know what we could talk about. And then, we sit at the café together, looking at our phones…”

“Yeah, that’s common,” I only replied.

She probably wouldn’t have known what a scourge was. But what else could I reply? As I was wondering, Quyen asked me to come up with a more exciting position for myself, though, so we could keep talking and start our foreplay, concurrently.

So, I kneeled over her chest, first, since I didn’t want to be too rash or brash and cheekily pry her pussy lips apart with my fingers, just like that. And we couldn’t really have talked that way, either. No, I wanted to stay closer to her boobs, which were now under my ass, however; especially if I wanted her to suck my cock a bit in between.

So, I switched positions again, turned by 180 degrees and then kneeled behind her head, facing her beguiling body. My balls were touching the hair on top of her head, while my cock was resting on her forehead and face, like a large slug.

“Yes, this is nice,” she whispered and sighed, before she pushed my foreskin back with her index finger and thumb and then began to nibble on my glans.

“Yes, Mister Douglas, now we can do everything,” she seemed relieved that her plan had worked out, while I was kneading her large breasts, which hadn’t fallen to the sides, as firm as they were.

At some point, I jiggled my ass a bit to remain perfectly positioned, as she seemed to want to bent her head backward a bit, so that I could fuck her in her mouth. But, not yet. First, she wanted to talk a bit more.

“Mister Douglas, don’t get me wrong, I wanna meet someone… and marry next year, perhaps. But, I mean, if I don’t do it now, what we’re doing, then…” she was hemming and hawing a bit.

“You want to, over the next several months, just fuck properly and try out new things?!” I summarized her plan, to be sure.

Quyen had nodded, it seemed, but now her lips were enwrapping the bottom of my glans, and our mating dance had begun. I kept massaging her fabulous boobs and twiddled her pumping nipples, which were already more than half-an-inch long.

Before she would reply or elaborate a bit more on what she had in mind, perhaps, we readjusted our positions again: Her head was now further tilted back, so that I was able to thrust more easily, while I still kept fondling her breasts.

I noticed how perfect the weather was, thank God; it was dry and partially sunny, so that we wouldn’t get burnt but were comfortably warm, unlike the previous time. There was some wind as well. While I was languidly pumping in her mouth now, I kept an eye on her mesmerizing bush, which was about six inches wide.

And, since her hair went all the way down her perineum, it was probably eight inches long. Or even nine. Which I wasn’t able to see from my current vantage point, however. Everything was so perfect, though, that I didn’t want to change anything.

“Well, yes, and then,” she continued, after she had let my dick snap out of her mouth. “Mister Douglas, I don’t know anyone like you. I don’t know anyone with who I could do it up here, on the roof. This is sooo hot… you don’t think so?!” she giggled.

“Oh no, yes, it is,” I agreed, before I shoved my cock back into her mouth.

We could talk later. And so, I thrusted tenderly for another few minutes, deeper and deeper down her throat. She didn’t seem to have a strong gag reflex, if any, but her sucking had become more forceful, in turn. As had the play of her tongue around the bottom of my glans.

Since she had said twenty minutes earlier that she wanted to see me come, I abandoned any plans to change positions but just kept going. Quyen seemed super happy doing what she was, and we wanted to do it twice, anyway. Later, I would take good care of her pussy – for which I didn’t need my own cum, of course.

And so, I just licked my fingertips once more to caress her areola blisters and nipples, but then I noticed how my elixir was gathering around my midsection. Quyen opened her eyes and looked at me, and when she nodded, I knew everything was good.

At that point, I didn't even care where my load would go, in the end. On her face and upper body? Inside her mouth? Watching her heaving, beguiling body, I threw my head back briefly and roared against the friendly sky, before I observed my creamy splashes jumping forward, onto her heaving belly and chest.

When I was almost done, Quyen grabbed my glans with her lips to receive the large last slosh in her mouth. Lasciviously, she had left her mouth open and so, I saw how the sticky whitish fluid was now gracing her bottom row of teeth.

I was panting and couldn’t turn my eyes, while she impishly smiled, looking up at me, before she licked the cum off her teeth and swallowed. Ooooaargghh! I hollered one more time when she began to suck my glans again to see if there wasn’t a bit more and then marveled at the coagulating whitish goodness on her young skin.

Oh, I hadn’t thought of this kind of relief, but I liked it. Very much so. Yes, we would eat now, before our intercourse proper. As my knees were hurting a bit, too, I sat down next to her head, and Quyen was grinning at me.

“That was awesome again.”

Dreamily, I smeared my elixir into her skin, like ointment, spending at least one minute on her areola alone. I wondered how many times I had come on her skin – six or seven? And then another tea spoon full at the end, in her mouth. No, that shit had been hot, sure.

“This was lovely. See, that’s what I wanna do before I get married,” Quyen giggled and sat up.

Resolutely, as if she had been prepared for this kind of debauchery, she reached for her backpack and procured napkins as well as wet wipes to clean her skin. When she was done, she squinted, since the sunlight forced her to, seeming thoroughly chipper. And, yes, I loved her dimples, which were the best part of her, otherwise, nondescript face.

“But now, we eat?” she asked rhetorically, and I cracked two cans of beer open.

After I had grabbed one of the four summer rolls from the box, I dipped it into the peanut sauce and then remarked, “Yes, those things are ideal: we can eat but still have one hand free for each other.”

To illustrate my point, I reached for her strapping thigh and marveled again how smooth and light her young skin was. Her pussy was a bit out of reach, but I had just come and wasn’t overly horny at that moment, anyway.

Quyen was still relieved and happy that things were turning out so well. She kept looking at my cock, which was probably only the second she was able to admire so freely. Speaking of second: I grabbed another summer roll, which were large, unfried spring rolls, but changed my position so that I was now sitting on my thigh, like the Little Mermaid.

For some reason, Quyen had only bought four rolls today; not five, like the last time. Perhaps, as she wanted to fuck more than eat. But those rolls were pretty filling. I asked Quyen if her two young colleagues were still talking about sex a lot in the office, since they were also in the habit of fornicating over lunch.

She laughed and shook her head. “No, Trinh and her boyfriend are taking a break from each other. And so, Ngoc doesn’t talk about sex anymore, either.”

“But now, you could,” I laughed; being facetious, of course.

“No, Mister Douglas. I don’t want anyone to know that we… you know…”

“Yes, I think that’s better. Just enjoy, and keep it a secret. Or have you told anyone already?”

Quyen shook her head, as she was taking her last roll, which was bigger than the others, for some reason, and then closed the styrofoam box. Since I was done eating, I lit a ciggy and asked her if she had planned out or, at least, thought about what we would do today.

“Yeah, a bit,” she smiled. ”But all I wanted to do was two things that are different.”

“Ha! Me, too. But I thought we would do it once in your pussy and then again in your butt, perhaps.”

“No, Mister Douglas, we’ll save that for later,” she cautioned me.

“Well, we haven’t done it in your pussy, anyway." I chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll try anal later, perhaps down in the maid’s chamber, one day…”

I could have played with her sphincter a bit, but that seemed a tad contrived; especially now that she was more cautious about anal exploration. And I was looking at one of the most beautiful pussies I had ever lain my eyes upon. Her mauve vertical cleft looked soft and moist, and her lower pubic hairs were already graced with pearls of sourish nectar.

Yes, and Quyen had just relieved myself, and so I lay down on my back and watched the puffs of smoke disappear in the sky. Quyen was looking at my cock, but then cracked another beer open, before she placed her head on my hairy chest. I flicked my cigarette butt away and absentmindedly reached for one of her boobs to fondle it.

But then she had another fulminant proposal. “Mister Douglas, I don’t know how to put that… but, you know: I don’t know how we can arrange for that, but I’d like to watch how someone else does what we just did. And have sex, the two of us,” she giggled, eventually.

For a split-second, I was startled, like I had just heard a supersonic boom, but that didn’t really happen in Vietnam. Now, she wanted to enjoy group sex?! Well, if she wanted to fill the next year with sensual adventures…

“Well, I think that could be arranged,” I replied optimistically, as I knew about ten folks with exhibitionist leanings.

There were Nguyet and Hiroshi, Mira, Thuy… Sally. And even Hoang. Or Charlie, but he was in Saigon. All of them had enjoyed group sex in all kinds of combinations. With relish. Which Quyen didn’t know yet, however.

And, as hot as I found her proposal, I wanted her to illustrate further what she had in mind. I would need another thirty minutes to recuperate, anyway.

“Like I said, I think that could be arranged. But what gave you the idea?” I was genuinely curious.

“I don’t know, but I would find that really hot. Sometimes, I watched porn with my boyfriend but then, when I was kneeling on the bed, I was only looking at the bedsheets,” she giggled.

“Yeah, that’s less than ideal, I know,” I concurred.

Nguyet, Hiroshi, Ly and I had recently rediscovered the joys of foursomes. Yes, it was definitely hotter to have sex when another couple was doing all kinds of arousing things as well. Although, I sometimes also felt it was distracting.

“Well, Quyen,” I began again, caressing her butt, hip, and then chest. “We do have three- or foursomes here, downstairs, sometimes. I really like that, too, but I wouldn’t have suggested it to you.”

“So, could I watch another man come on another woman? And then also in her mouth, perhaps?” Quyen wanted to double-check.

“You wanna watch something like that, while I’m fucking you from behind?” I smiled at her and the proposal.

“Exactly!” she was beaming with joy, before she suggested we get up and walk around a bit again to look at our small city.

And so, we rose and sauntered along the low wall once more, holding hands. We kept a distance to the edge, though, as Quyen suffered from vertigo.

“Douglas, could I touch another woman, too… while we’re having sex and watch her?”

“Together with another guy?”

“That would be better, maybe, because… we wanna do it, at the same time, you know?!”

Yeah, I knew. We kissed from time to time and let our hands travel around on each other’s bodies. Doing so, I had pulled her butt cheeks apart and felt like licking her cleft and anus. But then, it was definitely enjoyable to be walking around the rooftop with her, kissing and smooching, naked, as we were.

Still, I had already begun to forge plans for a foursome. Who would be the first woman Quyen could touch during sex? Nguyet, probably. Hiroshi would certainly like the idea of a foursome with Quyen, too. Or Sally and Vu? Thuy with Hoang? Or Ly and Khoa, who were trying to conceive a baby?

“Now, the other woman. Does she have to be young, or would a bit more mature work as well? Nguyet is thirty-four, but Hiroshi is about my age,” I told her.

“That would be fine, I think. I haven’t thought about that.”

Which may have been true or not.

“Or do you know anyone?”

I mean, it didn’t have to be one of my friends, did it?

“No, Mister Douglas, I’d much rather try that with someone I don’t know,” she giggled bashfully and blushed.

Well, that made sense. By now, we had covered the whole area, and Quyen announced that she needed to pee. Alarmed, I looked around and then directed her up on a concrete cube, which was about three feet high, or a bit more, and probably a vent of some sort. Now I would have the opportunity, for the first time, to get doused by her fine living-room fountain.

I had discovered my urophilia years ago, when a very slender, willowy, very young lady had been sitting naked on my chest. Since I didn’t want her to leave, just to pee, I had opened my mouth, like I was at the dentist, and then enjoyed the oceanic bliss of seeing those few ounces of finest urine leaving her divine body.

It had been a rather innocent little act, and nothing had been repulsive about it. Now, Quyen here was taller, older and weighed 50 pounds more, so that I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to drink her piss, but the way we were positioned was pointing much more in the direction of her splashing her divine liquid onto my belly, cock, and legs, anyway.

I leaned forward to nibble on her tits again, while she was ruffling my hair, giggling mirthfully. When I looked up once, we kissed profusely, but then she just let go. Her cheerful spluttering and splashing was music to my ears, and wafts of urea were rising between us.

But again, there was nothing repulsive about it; especially, since we were out in the open. Quyen had fetched her older white T-shirt earlier, on which she was now sitting, and so we waited those 30 or 40 seconds, until she would be done.

I resisted the temptation to dive further between her legs, as I was sure she wouldn’t want to taste her own urine during the next kiss. And there would be another round of sex. Leaning on her strapping thighs, I could feel how her jet was petering out and how my cock was dripping, as if I had just peed myself.

I pinched the small fat rolls on her belly and then sucked her left tit again, promising myself to drink from her fine urine at one of the next occasions. We didn’t have to try every form of debauchery on our second outing. It would perhaps also be better to just drink water, and lots of it.

Quyen clearly enjoyed that I desired her so much that I decidedly wanted her to pee on my body. And not just watch. Eventually, when she was truly done, she slid forward, so that I could lick her beautiful pussy and imbibe a few drops of her heavenly libation – for which she spread her legs as widely as she could and propped her torso on her outstretched arms next to and behind her.

The way she was presenting herself made me wonder if she had ever shown herself like that to a guy. Maybe not. And so, I bent forward and pulled her labia apart with both thumbs, before I slowly bent more and began to lick and suck her salmon-colored pumping vestibule.

At some point, I unfolded her flesh a bit with my fingers as well as my tongue, before I drilled the tip of the latter into the opening of her urethra. Eagerly, I licked the liquids and sucked her messenger substances deep into my lungs through my quivering nostrils. Drunk and inebriated, I finally stopped and looked at her.

Ideally, I would have plugged her snatch right away, the way she was sitting, but the vent was like five inches too high for that. Which she knew. So, she cocked her head, smiled at me, and asked if I didn't need to pee. Which was quite a powerful and endearing moment.

“Well, not really. Not yet,” I chuckled but was tempted to ask what she would have done with my micturating hose.

I didn’t inquire, in the end, but only helped her down. I would see soon how far she was willing to go with her blossoming urophilia.

“Quyen, I loved how you were sitting over there on the low wall, the last time we were here,” I told her instead. “How you were peeing out from under your skirt was incredibly hot.”

“That was kinda embarrassing, Mister Douglas.” She was playing coy. “I mean, I was wearing the same clothes that I always wear to work,” she cracked up.

“Yeah, and we didn't really know each other. But we had had sex already… but now, it’s different?” I was genuinely curious.

Quyen smiled endearingly, and we just kissed again. She grabbed my cock, which had been stiffening ever since she had stopped peeing. We could feel it getting longer and thicker, and the messenger substances that were still wafting between us also did their share. At some point, she let go of my throbbing noodle and kneeled on the blanket, like a pony.

“Ok, let’s do it!” she panted, with her head turned backward.

And so, there was nothing else for me to do but to kneel behind her firm womanly butt and rub her cleft with my throbbing knob, after I had taken a blob of pussy nectar from her treasure. Which I then repeated with the tip of my middle finger to explore her soft, malleable anus a bit while we would fuck.

Listening to the noise the air passing her clenched teeth was making, I asked her, though, “So, now you are just looking at the blanket. That’s okay?”

Before she would answer, perhaps, I kept thrusting somewhat languidly, before I banged her harder.

“No, looking up at the sky is nice,” she chuckled, before she dangled her head and looked down again like a pony, waiting for its owner.

For the finale, she asked me to lie down on her again, like the last time we had been here. While we were changing positions, she looked longingly at my fat, greasy rod, but then spread her legs as widely as she could again.

Well, this wasn’t exactly erotic art, yet, but it made perfect sense. As she was relatively tall, we could even talk some more about our plans for group sex. And look at each other. And so, I told her about Hiroshi and his fiancée, my muse Nguyet, but eventually, we agreed that we could talk about them later.

“B-but, you are right,” she panted. “I w-would n-need t-to m-meet them b-before. And they w-would wa-want t-to g-get to kn-know m-me, t-too,” Quyen managed to utter.

I nodded and smiled but didn’t reply, so that we could focus on the heavenly sensations passing through our bodies. Oh, yes, Quyen was quite roomy, like a much more mature woman. Just like the last time, she was cooing under me and then chuckled again how big and heavy I was.

With my lips in her hair, I exploded shortly thereafter, which prompted Quyen to pack her feet onto my back again, before she screamed and wholeheartedly squirted. I could not only feel but also hear it, which caused me to crack up. She had to laugh, too, and we turned onto our sides. With my cock still inside her.

“Hey, Quyen, before we have group sex, I want to be alone with you once more. And do all kinds of crazy shit. Do you still have your long white dress from high school?” I suddenly heard myself asking her.

Our eyes were tracing each other, and she nodded, before we kissed again – more passionately than ever before. My dick had slipped out of her, in the meantime, but when I felt I needed to piss, I just let go. We needed to take a shower and wash the blankets, anyway.

“We could pee on each other, both of us at the same time, up here on the roof,” the emerging little rascal suggested, grinning impishly.

“And then, I’ll take good care of your butt.”

Quyen was looking at me, full with expectations and completely relaxed, while she was feeling the tepid fountain on her belly and bush. She seemed more than glad that she could experience it here, out in the fresh air, up on the plateau, above the roofs of our city, almost within sight of her parents’ house, across the river.