It was my last night in Hong Kong
Before I was to fly to Edinburgh the next morning to start studying at the University of Edinburgh. I was 19.

Being my last night, a couple of mates and I went for a last night of drinking in a small bar which held quite a few memories for us.

It was here that I saw a rather attractive, slender lady who was in the company of several business partners who had all had too much to drink and were attempting to dance, though the word 'attempting' was perhaps too generous.

A more suitable verb would be 'failing'. I raised an eyebrow of sympathy, and our gazes met. I raised the bottle in my hand with a gentle acknowledgment, and - probably glad of the excuse to do so - she made her way to the bar.

So began a night of the type of flirting that only happens when both participants are in that special state of inebriated where everything anyone says is an eloquent witticism.

I learned that her name was Clara, and that she had just retired at the age of 35 after having sold her substantial business empire to the businessmen who were now clumsily stumbling across the floor behind us in an impressive display of ineptitude. Her marriage had fallen victim to her career, and she had been lonely since, though having finally sold her empire for a significant sum of money she intended to rectify that.

I also learned that apparently I resemble the then-captain of the Welsh rugby team, which was either a subtly masked insult or an unusual compliment. I assumed the latter when she pressed her lips urgently against mine, forcefully sparring with my tongue.

I bade farewell to my comrades as Clara bundled me into a taxi, telling him to take her to her beach-side villa as she locked her lips to mine yet again in animalistic passion, only stopping to let me breathe when we arrived at her sizable house.

Mansion was a more apt description. The garden was massive and continued onto the shore, the building fronted with a wooden deck large enough for it's own swimming pool and a pair of BMWs parked in the garage.

I didn't have much time to take it all in, though, as I was almost dragged indoors and upstairs to a large, untidy room which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a nursery.

As she hurriedly undid the buttons of my shirt she spoke. "Can't do it downstairs, my daughter's room is there." I wasn't entirely sure if she was talking to me or to herself, but I didn't think it through too much as she freed my swollen member from it's confines before immediately grasping it with an experienced grip and beginning to pump.

She kissed the tip of my throbbing meat with hot, wet lips before quickly swallowing my entire length. I gasped as her throat grasped my glans with a hot, moist grip and moaned heavily as she pulled away, sliding herself off my cock with barely a gag.

"Shhh! My mother's asleep upstairs!" she hissed at me in the dark.

The only thing that stopped me from loosing my erection was the fact that she had again forced it down her throat, her lips pressed firmly against my base as she demonstrated a significant amount of experience and technique.

The night was fruitful. I made up for my relative lack of experience with my stamina, providing Clara with a good two hours of shafting in a number of positions, Clara masking each of her many orgasms by biting my shoulder as she came. By the end of the night she had all but drawn blood.

Finally, sated and exhausted, we collapsed on the sofa which now positively reeked of urgent sex, gently holding each other and breathing in that very special post-coitus manner.

"So, what do you do again?" she asked.

"I'm a student."

She shifted in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

"How old are you again?"

"19."

She looked incredulous.

"Oh fuck, I'm more than twice your age!"

I told her quite plainly that she didn't at all look 39 and I wasn't at all bothered.

Then it dawned on me that I would have to be on a plane in less than 12 hours. I apologised and began to get dressed, cursing occasionally as I trod on a child's toy.

"I'm afraid I leave tomorrow for the UK." I said sadly.

Her face echoed mine, wistful and crestfallen at the realization that this would most likely be the last we saw of each other.

"Could I have your email?" She asked plaintively, as I stood in the doorway.

I'm going to hell. I wrote it on her 5-year-old daughter's chalkboard.

*cringe*
(DarkLite swallowed my entire undercarriage, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 1:53, 5 replies)

Excellent
Final touch.

Have you heard from her since?

(BTW, Were you up in Sai Kung, or south of the island?)
(Spreddum O Grrrr. That's my vicious circle, that is., Fri 5 Dec 2008, 8:05, closed)

Sai Kung
The bar in question was (and presumably, still is) called 'Bacco'.
(DarkLite swallowed my entire undercarriage, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 13:21, closed)

you
should write porn
( awsm! namaste bitches, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 8:55, closed)

*Clicks*
For the chalkboard!
(bill, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 21:31, closed)

Nicely told
but I thought she said she was 35, not 38+? You have been fined one half-credit for inconsistency :)

[A-]

/pedant
( chart cat has an itch, Wed 10 Dec 2008, 0:32, closed)