Ling and I met through tinder, but we only met each other after a couple of weeks of texting. We met at a coffee shop downtown, but she left after what was probably less than an hour. Back then, she was landing job interviews after job interviews, which required a lot of preparation and she was naturally washed off at the end of day. Since I was very busy at the time, I didn’t mind waiting, plus our conversations were fun. Ling was smart, curious and the opposite of obnoxious, which is my favourite match. She came from a very conservative family in the central parts of China and her family never really accepted, or even understood, her choice to remain on the coast after her studies. As many successful young women like her, she was constantly being pulled, on one side, by her family, and, on the other side, by the gravitational pit of fun that was the life on the coast. That situation took a lot of energy from her, as it was often very tedious to argue over and over the same topic all the time. She told me quite a few times that she felt caged and dreamt of jumping into a plane and escaping far away from it all.
This reflected on her look. She was short and slim, a petite frame with long, straight black hair, dark eyes and no make up. She was the perfect embodiment of all the essential characteristics that make a Chinese girl. She was *the* Chinese girl, the one that you can conceive but has no physical reality. Except she was real, and I was soon going to learn how physical her reality was. See, she kept it standard and traditional so her parents wouldn’t freak out for the daily face-time calls, but underneath that crust of conformity, there was a killing machine tuned for fun and sex, powered by a breeding kink and a terrifying fascination for the Scoville scale.
After something like a moth of texting, we finally managed to set up a date for dinner. She offered to go to one of her favourite restaurant – Sichuan cuisine, famously known for turning innocent taste buds into smoking ashes. I arrived first but didn’t have to wait too long before I saw her short and slender frame on the opposite sidewalk. She waived at me with a large smile as she waited for an opportunity to cross the busy street. She wore a simple black cap, an equally simple white top and an old, beat-up and oversized Levi’s jacket that was clearly older than both of us. « My dad’s », she replied with a bright smile and playful shrug, after I complimented her on her sense of style. The picture of me pounding her slender body, naked, if not for her daddy’s jacket, flashed in my mind. Although our texting was mostly mild, we had our moments where we were quite openly being flirty with each other.
She grabbed my arm and we went inside. Her smell was something that was both sweet and sour, like a raspberry, something intoxicating. As the waitress lead us to a table, she took her hat off to reveal the intricate architecture of pins and clips that managed to gather her long, straight black hair into an elegant bun. For some reason, I’m a real sucker for tied hair, buns and braids being my favourites. As we got to our seats, I noticed that the cloth of her top was tight enough to underline the shape of her larger than average breasts and pierced nipples. No bra. When she sat, I also took a good look at how her short leather skirt was perfectly hugging her hips, stopping a little over her knees. No legwear.
During the entire course of our dinner, these two facts kept bouncing in my head like a metallic ball in a pinball machine. She kept brushing her feet against my legs, her gaze meeting my eyes with each contact, and brushing my hand with hers while I was just sitting there, trying to come up with interesting answers to her questions, even though my mind
(*no bra. No legwear*)
kept racing in all directions. I was wiping tears off my increasingly red face, churning in those delicious but so spicy noodles and she would often came around to my side of the table to help me handle chopsticks, purposefully squeezing her breasts against my arm. My nose just wouldn’t stop running too, I was a mess and she couldn’t stop laughing.
« You’r done? », she asked me after a quick look to our table, filled with empty bowls, plates and cups.
– Are you? You seem to be having more fun than I am
– Yeah… I paid while you were crying in the bathroom, let’s go now or everybody will think I dumped you tonight »
I mumbled something about me not crying in the bathroom (I was) then followed her steps outside of the restaurant. She called a cab and we got in, both of us in the back. She looked me in the eyes and told the driver where she lived and my racing mind
(*no bra. No legwear*)
kept feeding me signals that we were getting closer and closer to what we both knew was coming, from the moment our eyes locked from across the street. Her flatmates were away – which I guess is also why she picked today – but she didn’t offer to give me a tour. She crossed the flat without looking behind until we got to her door. I got in after her. She flicked a light on, closed the door and locked it. I lingered close behind her and she arched her back, slowly grinding her arse against me. She felt the outline of my hard cock through my jeans and shot me a quick glance. I grabbed her by the hip with one hand, while my other hand started ran along her inner thigh before squeezing her arse cheek between my thumb and fingers. No panties. She let out a raspy moan and I pushed her hard against the door. She pushed against me and opened up her legs. I pressed one finger against her clit, gently massaging it as I slid another one inside her. She gasped and clenched herself, I buried my face in her hair, breathing her smell, feeling her body getting tighter. After a little while I released the pressure against her clit to slid another finger inside her, quickly followed by another one. She was drenched.
She got on her toes and started rocking her hips up and down, fucking herself with my curved fingers, her pace increasing as her raspy breath was turning into louder moans. My free hand cupped her soft breasts and I was devouring her neck with bites and kisses, nibbling at her ear lob and breathing hard against her skin. My cock kept twitching inside my pants and my balls felt increasingly tighter. Precum was already soaking through the fabric of my underwear. I wanted her so bad, but it was really hot to see her humping my hand like that, so we kept at it for what felt like an excruciatingly long time before she took my hand away from herself and turned to face me.
« Fuck me, now »
She undid my belt in the blink of an eye and my jeans slid all the way down to my ankles. She grabbed my cock with her hands and I felt her soft fingers pressing slightly against its pulsating veins. I quickly got rid of my clothes but she took her time to remove her skirt, her top. She lead me towards a armchair on which she sat, her legs resting on either side, offering me a perfect view of her body. Her toned skin seemed paler in the light, but I felt I could have drown in the darkness of her eyes and hair. I slid myself in her, slowly at first, but she placed her hands on my arse and gestured her body. She wanted it fast, she wanted it raw and I was happy to oblige. After a bit of fumbling we managed to find the perfect position where I could pound her at full speed. Leaning on her body, I loved to take in her smell, to see short, slightly curly locks of hair escape from her tidy bun, to feel my own damp hair sticking to my forehead.
« I want to feel your cum inside of me ! Pump it ! Pump it ! »
I was surprised at first, but did my best to keep it together. God, she was naughty. She kept telling me how she well she could feel my cock, asking me to to fill her up. I don’t know why, but the fact that she switched to English to tell me all this filthy stuff got me even more worked up. She was vocal and, to my own surprise, so was I. I was growling and panting, I kept going at it harder and harder, my hands clenched, holding onto whatever skin I could, scratching, squeezing. She grabbed my face with both her hands and I felt her hands shaking a little. She arched her back and let out a scream as waves of orgasm washed over her, and I kept pounding, taking in the beautiful sight of her quivering body.
« Fill my cunt, I want your cum! »
My body tensed and I let out the most pathetic growl as I unleashed ropes after ropes of cum inside her, trying to keep up the pace until it became unbearable. My arms got soft and my legs failed and I collapsed more or less against her. A bundle of naked skin, sweat and cum, lying there. I can still remember the delicate touch of her fingers, as she run her hands in my hair, whispering words of thanks between her rapid breath.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jncf78/chinese_cookies_my_tinder_date_f_with_a
And that is how i met your mother, kids!
Jokes aside, that was incredibly hot, especially that a demure, petite beauty with a conservative upbringing would beg for you raw and to fill her with cum!
Which country are you from? You mentioned being a foreigner in China but not a native English speaker. Your writing is fabulous!