Beijing Cherry (Chapter 1) - Sex Stories

Beijing Cherry (Chapter 1)

... chords sound like they’ve been scoured with sandpaper. “Maybe,” Dan replies, stepping into the smoky cell. She’s holding my hand again, so I have no choice but to follow. The man at the desk closes his magazine and proceeds to inspect the pair of us. I notice his gaze lingering on Dan’s full chest. “I’m just here with my friend,” I blurt out. His gaze skims over my modest boobs and lands on my face. “Pity,” he says, treating me to a sleazy wink before turning back to his original target. “You can call me Mr Yan,” he tells her. “And what’s your name?” “Sun Dan,” she says croakily. She coughs and repeats her name in a clearer voice. Yan drops the end of his cigarette into a paper cup on the desk. There’s a brief hiss as the fire dies. “Do you have any dancing experience?” he asks. “Some.” “Well, experience isn’t essential. We’re more interested in girls with great figures.” A hungry look spreads across his face as silence envelops the room. He lights another cigarette and takes a long puff before continuing. “I’m sure you know what this job entails.” Dan nods. The combination of smoke and stagnant air is making me feel light-headed, so I slump down on a rickety wooden chair against the wall. I consider asking Yan to open the small window behind his head, but I don’t really want to engage him in conversation. The way he looked at me earlier… I’d rather pass out and choke to death than suffer that seedy wink again. “If you can impress me, you’ve got the job,” he says, eyes still ...

... fixed on Dan’s chest. The cigarette is perched on his lips, slowly burning down. Her face is stone. She must know what he’s looking at. “Okay.” “Okay,” he repeats. I can only imagine what comes next. My question is answered a few seconds later when Yan reaches under his desk and pulls out a hi-fi. Dan is frozen on the spot, hands by her sides, palms pressed against her outer thighs. If she wants this ordeal to end, all she has to do is say so. Just one word. She doesn’t make a sound. Yan presses play and music suddenly fills the room, a sensual track with a gentle beat and – in the background, but loud enough to be heard – the orgasmic breathing of a young woman. I’m caught unawares by how sexy it sounds, and for a moment I forget just how sordid this situation is. Dan is already swaying from side to side, eyes shut, lost in some faraway place. Her hands creep up from her thighs, over her smooth stomach and onto her breasts. She cups each one, squeezing and kneading as her body writhes on the spot. In the fevered confines of Yan’s office, those soft mounds of flesh peeking out above her dress are moist with sweat. Every few seconds, as she contorts her top half, the droplets converge and trickle down the deep valley created by her breasts. A wet patch is growing across her chest. Yan is entranced by the seductive vision before him. The cigarette has burnt out on his lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Surely he’s had hundreds of girls pass through this office, desperate for ...