Surreptitious Love Ch. 38

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Jenny, whose actual name was Tram (which was pronounced Tsham) was living a few miles west of town, towards the mountains. She had started relatively late at our English Center, maybe in 8th grade, and had always been quiet and sober-minded. Once, in 11th grade, she had requested my help regarding a school project. We had become Facebook friends as a result, but we never talked much and had never been for coffee together. But now she needed my help again for some empirical social-science study.

Jenny had just finished high school and would start her university studies in the fall. She was planning to be an English teacher, for which she had to move to Vinh in the north of Vietnam. The Teachers’ College was offering additional programs in English, so that graduates could also teach in English when they were done. Needless to say, studying in English would mean taking more classes, which the university believed could be done every summer.

And they didn’t seem to want to waste any time: Jenny was to conduct an empirical study over the summer between high school and college, and she had to complete it, including a paper and a presentation, by the day she would start at Vinh. Well, the bilingual program offered so many perks that I was eager to help. Once she graduated, she would be able to teach at International schools and make much more money if everything worked out as planned. Even our non-descript town had an International school now, where the language of instruction was English.

So, we had exchanged a few messages on Facebook about the project but then I didn’t hear from her for a few weeks. For her second subject at the Teachers’ College, Jenny had picked Social Studies, so I had suggested to conduct a study among her fellow high school students. ‘Diet and Nutrition’ would have been a boring topic, we thought, and anything money-related, such as shopping habits, was iffy, as there were glaring disparities among her fellow students. In the end, we settled for the ubiquitous and most intriguing topic: sex.

We had put a catalog of questions together that would allow Jenny to group her fellow students according to their experiences: none, sensual experiences with oneself, with others (but limited to non-penetration), and, fourth, actual intercourse. There were also boxes to tick for hetero- and homosexual leanings, including ‘undecided’, without distinguishing further, though. Primarily, the purpose of all this was not to get saucy details, but to teach Jenny how to analyze and categorize the results of such a study and turn them into a bunch of nice graphs, so that she could present her results in convincing and appealing ways.

Right now, she was putting the diagrams together and wanted me to come to her house to look at everything. I hadn’t seen her for at least half-a-year, but we had moved to the west side of town anyway, towards the mountains, so that I was living actually kinda close. Her parents were cassava and peanut farmers; we would eat lunch together before they would go out in the field again in the afternoon.

On said day, I drove over to her home around ten-thirty. I followed the small, winding roads through the fields. I had to ask twice to find her house, which was surrounded by large shrubs and bushes. The house itself wasn’t anything spectacular; the family seemed neither rich nor poor. Under the corrugated-tin roof on the east side were some toys, a scooter, and some other sundry items, which probably belonged to her niece, about whom Jenny had talked about in the past. That little girl was Jenny’s older brother’s child; in Vietnam, grandparents often took care of their grandchildren, while the parents worked in Saigon year round.

When I arrived, I had a persistent pebble in my sandal, so I kneeled down to get it out. While I was fiddling with my shoe, Jenny had walked up to me quietly, and I was now looking up at her soft, shapely thighs, her lap, flat belly, tiny breasts, and ravishing smile. I had noticed her stealthy gait already when she was taking classes with me. She always moved silently but elegantly, without lifting her feet much.

Today, Jenny was wearing a simple white dress, which seemed to have been tailored out of an old bed sheet. Around her slim waist was a drawstring that looked like a skip rope. The upper part of her dress seemed to have an undershirt sewed in. From my unusual vantage point, the hem of her dress and the lowest point of her panties formed an iron sight. I was staring at her thighs for several seconds, as I was baffled how the lower part of her body had become more womanly over the last six months. When I looked up again, however, past her heaving little belly, I realized that her upper body was still as very slim—and her chest still as flat—as I remembered it.

Jenny was holding her dress with flat, open hands and spread fingers on both sides, so that the wind wouldn’t blow it up. She was probably aware that I was almost Gaziantep Merveşehir Escort able to peek under it, as she was standing two steps higher, while I was kneeling on the footpath. Jenny’s upper lip curved upwards nicely, so that one could always see her four middle, upper teeth, which I had always liked, in any girl. Now, she was biting her lower lip and swaying her upper body. Eventually, she smiled again, nodded, and asked me to get up and meet her parents.

In the living room, the table had already been set. Her dad appeared, drying his hands on an old cloth. When he pulled his chair out, he motioned for me to sit down, and reached under the table in a box to get two cans of beer for us. Jenny went to the kitchen to help her mother carry stuff. When the two of them reappeared, they were bringing two large bowls with food. Then everyone nodded, and we helped ourselves to the treats in front of us.

While we were eating, we chatted about the weather, the harvest and Jenny’s impending university studies. Jenny talked a little about her project in English. The food was hearty: cubes of bacon with fish sauce and fresh chili as well as some fish. Once, while her dad was reaching down again to get two more cans, an older neighbor wearing an iconic flat, cone-shaped straw-hat appeared in the door frame to ask something. She, too, nodded and smiled at me, but then left as quietly as she had appeared.

While we were enjoying our food, I looked at Jenny, who was sitting next to me. Apart from not being quite as thin as she had been a year earlier, she hadn’t changed. Her new womanly thighs were awesome, though. If it had been at all possible, I would have caressed and kissed them right then and there. She wore glasses permanently now, it seemed, which looked cool. A year ago, she had incessantly put them on and taken them off again. She had always been modest and charming, and I was happy that nothing had changed in this regard.

When we were done, her dad got up to take a nap, while Jenny and her mother cleared the table and then did the dishes. I went outside to smoke and look around a bit. The house had a shingled roof, and on the wall facing south, there was another corrugated-tin roof, where the motorcycles were parked. Under said awning, there was a nice burgundy-red wooden cot, on which were a lot of similar-looking papers, probably the results of Jenny’s sex survey among her former fellow students. All the pages had the same pattern.

Just as I was done smoking, Jenny stepped out of the house and pointed towards the camp-bed, where we were apparently going to sit down. She spread her legs over the cot and put her feet on the ground to either side, holding her skirt down with one hand. I parked myself near her, in a 90-degree angle; our right legs were touching, while her left leg was behind my back. Now I knew what her dress reminded me of: she looked like an extra in a sword-and-sandal film. She smiled at me; perhaps she just enjoyed sitting so close to me, her former teacher, at her serene house near the Annamite mountain range.

“I think we should start by double-checking whether I put the answers in the right categories,” she began. “Sometimes, I wasn’t sure,” she admitted.

So we looked at the four piles of paper again, starting with the first, where the students had admitted to not having any sexual experience. Of course, I asked myself immediately in which group Jenny had placed herself; my guess was the second or the third. For some reason, I could sense that she relieved herself through masturbation but she didn’t seem like she had had proper intercourse yet. She had just turned 18, and her upper body was essentially that of a girl’s.

Well, a few of the answers, which Jenny had summarized in English, indicated some exploration, which meant that they should be put among the second stack of answers. One girl, for instance, admitted that she had already stimulated herself in middle school, with a marker under her skirt during class. That girl still had marked the box for ‘No experience whatsoever’, though. We moved her up to the second category.

Now, we went through the next stack of papers, the masturbation group, on top of which was a large hand-written note. When I turned and looked at Jenny, she blushed, bit her lower lip, and said:

“Yeah, that’s me. Just give it to me,” she requested, extending her right hand.

She obviously didn’t want me to read the note, but I looked at it for a second nonetheless. I saw the phrases ‘in bed’ and ‘before I sleep’. Well, that was a start, wasn’t it? While I was reading the other responses, I had my forearm on her knee, which she didn’t seem to mind at all. As far as I could see, all the replies here belonged in the pile. Most young people seemed to masturbate before they took a nap; in other words, rather midday than in the evening or morning.

When we had finished the second stack, Jenny put her note on top with a smug smile, turned the whole pile by 90 degrees, and then put it on top of the first group. Then she reached for the third stack and handed it to me. Since she had turned, her dress wasn’t pressed neatly in her lap anymore, and I could see her white panties, which looked loose and somewhat seasoned. They probably had been washed hundreds of times, but they still looked cute. They were plain white with a little bit of lace around the hemline. I persuaded myself, however, that I could see a faint, vertical, pink strip under the front of her underwear, which was of a too light color to be menstrual blood, however. The half-inch-wide strip also seemed to be under the fabric, not part of it.

When she tidied her dress, I folded her skirt back upwards with my index and middle fingers to take another look, but she only laughed and put it back down. I felt my dick pumping inside my pants and told her how endearing I found her slender figure, pleasant face, and modest demeanor. Jenny looked down on herself abashedly but didn’t say anything.

So I just looked at the third stack of papers here in front of me. This pile—experience, but not actual intercourse yet—was, surprisingly, the smallest. The handjob-parties that Tuyet had told me about two years ago were probably a city or middle-class thing. Here in the countryside, young people probably just had real sex once they decided to open themselves up to sensual encounters with others. Country-youth saw animals fornicate virtually every day. My wife had also told me that there were quite a lot of girls pregnant at 16 in the village where she was from, which was unimaginable among middle-class families in Vietnamese towns and cities.

Anyway, we read the notes again and found a guy who had tried to penetrate his girlfriend, but failed at several attempts. Only once, he had been able to push his glans inside the girl’s vagina. We talked about it for a while and agreed to move him to the fourth pile, as the will and the consent seemed to have been there. He and his girlfriend both seemed ready to go all the way. Another pair had oral sex daily, so that Jenny was tempted to move those two up to the fourth group as well.

“Well, look, here she says that her boyfriend licks her every afternoon, while she sits on his face and has his penis in her mouth,” Jenny read in an astonished voice.

“That’s great,” I smiled. “Good for them!” I insisted.

“Gross,” replied Jenny, shaking her head. “They could have real sex if they do that. I really think a penis belongs in the vagina. Not in the mouth.”

“Well, the way they’re doing it means she can’t get pregnant. And it’s awesome to have a young woman sit on your face, especially if she’s blowing you at the same time. It doesn’t get much better than that. I think it’s badass that they do it every day. You can’t imagine doing that?” I asked her.

“I can, but …” she hesitated, “I can’t imagine doing it with someone in our school,” she finally said after some consideration.

While I was thinking why that might be, she explained that it would be weird for her to show a guy her pussy and let him lick it and then, the next day, they would do school work together.

“I can’t image that there’s one guy in the classroom who knows what my pussy looks and smells like,” she conceded. “I can’t fathom either sitting near a guy in school whose penis I’ve had in my mouth,” she added.

“It’ll be different in college,” I assured her. “You will probably hook up with someone who’s not in your class.”

Right when she wanted to reply, her father appeared, looking drowsy. He was getting ready to go back to work. Jenny got up, and I leaned to the left a little to let her pass. I caught another glance of her panties when she swung her left leg over me. She asked if I wanted something to drink and went inside the house. When she came back, she was carrying two glasses of iced tea. She sat down on the cot again, but this time just next to me, facing the same way. We both took a sip, and her parents waved goodbye.

Now, we were alone. The fourth pile was still waiting to be looked at but she didn’t grab it. She seemed to be heaving and, apparently, she was thinking about something.

“When I look at the results here, I feel a little silly since I haven’t even seen a penis yet,” she admitted. “And, frankly, I feel stupid when I say things like ‘a penis doesn’t belong in a mouth’. I mean, what do I know?!” she laughed sheepishly.

“Oh, you might wanna wait with that until the time is ripe. It’s gotta be the right moment, too. And, ideally, the right guy. Don’t stress out about it,” I added.

“How do I know if it’s the right guy, though?”

“You probably won’t until you try him,” I laughed. “That’s life,” was all I could think of.

She looked at me and I could see that lots of things were crossing her mind. Talking and thinking about sex during the survey then, and now again here, on this hot and sunny June afternoon, must have left a mark on her. I could hear her breathing, and I put my hand in her lap. At first, I caressed her incredibly smooth inner thighs, before I cautiously touched her labia through the thin fabric of her panties. But she shook her head and stopped my hand with hers.

“Not here.”

“We’re alone,” I reminded her. “And the next house is at least 100 yards away.”

“Can I see your penis?” she asked suddenly.

Without much hesitation, I unbuttoned my pants and opened the fly, while she kneeled down between my legs. I pushed my pants down to my ankles, and she looked at my half-erect dick.

“It’s smaller than I thought,” she laughed quietly.

“Touch it. It’ll get bigger in a minute. You’ll see …”

She touched my glans with two fingertips and then pushed the foreskin all the way back. She looked at me a little sheepishly but I nodded to encourage her. Just when I wanted to tell her to use some spit, she took off her glasses, put them on the cot, and slid six inches back on her knees. Then she leaned forward and touched my glans with her tongue as if to taste it. But then she paused and looked at me again, as if to check if I approved.

My pumping dick was twitching a little, which made her giggle. She put her lips over my glans, while I leaned further back and supported my upper body on my arms behind me. All of a sudden, she was blowing me, like she had done it many times before. She sucked artfully, turning and twisting my shaft. She seemed to know intuitively what to do. Or perhaps she had watched some porn on her phone while masturbating after lunch or before going to sleep in the evening.

There didn’t seem to be a bra-fastener on her back that I could open. So I reached down on her chest and caressed her small breasts through the fabric of her dress. As her butt wiggled and swayed following the rhythm of the blowjob, I reached down her back and pulled her dress up. I could kinda see her butt in the panties after I had placed the skirt onto her back.

I squeezed her butt cheeks through the material at first but then pushed her kickers down to her thighs. She must have been aware that her naked ass was now exposed outside her house but instead of pulling her panties up, she just accelerated her sucking to get done more quickly. She sniffed, sniveled, and smacked her lips, and once in a while, she let my cock snap out of her mouth to take a deep breath.

Her little butt was firm and her skin incredibly smooth. I licked my middle finger, and rubbed her ass crack and butt hole. Then I bent forward even more and reached for her perineum and pussy. For that, I had to bend sideways a little, but just when I had put the tip of my middle finger in her honeypot, I came substantially in her mouth. She swallowed and coughed. When she let my cock snap out of her moth, there was second set of splashes, which ended up on her endearing, kind face.

She laughed and wiped the cum off her cheeks and lips with the back of her hand, before she pulled her panties up again, still on her knees, but then she got up as they were probably hurting. I put my pants back on and drank from the iced tea. Jenny had a satisfied grin on her face. I smelled my middle finger, which had been in her pussy just two minutes ago: She just smelled and tasted naturally fresh, almost fruity, and only ever so slightly sour.

“When did you have your period the last time?” I heard myself ask all of a sudden.

“Hmh … last weekend. I think it ended on Sunday.”

I thought about telling her why I was asking, but before I could say anything, she handed me the whole pile of papers and said:

“Come on, we’ll go inside.”

As she was holding the four different piles on top of each other, I reached between the second and the third, pulled out her personal note and added it to the third stack, where it now belonged.

“You’re tampering with the results,” she giggled.

“I know. But you are in group three now, aren’t you?” I insisted jokingly.

In her room, she asked me to sit down, while she went to the bathroom. I spread the papers on the table as my dick needed some time to recuperate anyway. So we would work again for half-an-hour or so, and then maybe fuck. Or at least she would let me lick her snatch. Now, I could hear her brushing her teeth. When she came back into the room, she sat down near me, around the corner. I could still smell the toothpaste.

“Well, sperm doesn’t taste all that great, does it?” I asked her.

“Yeah, it’s kinda bitter. And gooey. Does pussy taste better?” she wanted to know.

“Sure. At least to me. Can I lick your pussy in a little while?”

Jenny blushed but didn’t say anything. I felt, though, that I had little reason to doubt that we would do it. I looked at the survey again, while Jenny got the diagrams out. We counted the responses in each category again, before Jenny pushed her analysis towards me, together with a red pen, so that I could proof-read it.

It was lovely to be working here with her. Once in a while, I glanced at her and admired her charming features. When she redid her ponytail in the back, I could see her nipples, as the fabric of her dress was now pressed against her chest.

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