Loading...New Year in Singapore is warm and balmy. A little humid. It had rained during the day, and now the ground was slick and wet and puddles reflected glows from the windows of my boss’s mansion in Queen Astrid Park. My boss is called Mr Wong. He insists that we all call him Edmund, a quirk he picked up overseas, but in our conservative Chinese competitive society where every sort of nicety mattered, every courtesy observed and every head bowed in greeting to a superior – well, let’s just leave it at Mr Wong, shall we?
Mr Wong was the Senior Partner in our law firm. It’s a moderately sized law firm, small enough for it to have a only a handful of partners running everything, and large enough for the partners to grow rich and fat from obscene profits. When you charge 90 dollars a minute… our bosses’ bonuses can get very vulgar indeed.
His house, no, his manor was in Queen Astrid Park, one of the most expensive areas in Singapore. Singapore is small and land-starved. I don’t think I’m rich, but I consider myself well-off as an Associate and still I live in a four-room apartment and drive only one car. Just the cost of a car in Singapore can buy a house in small town America. Hell, a cost of a car can buy an apartment in Singapore. Anyhow. His mansion spanned two roads and had four wings. It had a tennis court, a swimming pool and huge garage for 6 cars. It had a long driveway that was lined with exotic flowers that led up to his opulent house. Mr Wong had bragged that it was the size of a large condominium development.
I didn’t drive today, to the New Year’s Party. I wanted to drink. I had taken a lift in my friend’s car, a lovely black Lexus. Mr Wong’s butler opened the door for me and I stepped out, my stilettos sinking into a little puddle. The butler paused and to his credit, he never tried to look me over again. I knew I was hot that night, I had to be, if I were to beat out the rest of the promotion-grubbing sluts from my firm. I glanced at my reflection in the window – very nice. The morning gym sessions and the weekend pilates classes (not to mention the nightly wild sex with my several fuck-buddies from work) kept me in good shape for an Asian – and the satin Gucci frock that cost me slightly less than a K hugged my figure and flared at my knees. It was a cross between a summer dress and an evening gown and a night gown, and my best friend had said it screamed “Fuck me!”. It had better.
We mingled and ate and drank. I didn’t drink too much or eat too much, though. Some of my colleagues ate like there was going to be a famine the next day (also the next year). There was chatter and raucous laughter all around, and for once, the corporate backstabbing and politicking took back seat (although all us lackeys never stopped sucking up to our bosses).
I managed to separate Mr Cheong from his wife. Mr Cheong was another partner. He enjoyed golf and cricket – you can guess his age. He was the youngest of the senior partners, and the wiliest. His wife stuck to him like glue, but I asked a buddy of mine to flirt with her while I cornered Cheong.
“Mr Cheong, please follow me.” I said. “I’ve got a very special surprise for you.”
He looked at me, puzzled but curious, and acquiesced. I took his hand and led him away from the main party upstairs to the bedrooms. “Are you taking me on a tour of the house?” He asked, as I led him deeper into the house.
“No, Mr Cheong. Just follow me. I need to find a quiet spot to discuss my future in the firm.”
“Oh, come on, Sue. It’s New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud! Surely this can wait. Besides, I never mix business with pleasure.”
I dragged him into a toilet and closed the door. “I do.” He tried to turn away but I grabbed his hand and sunk down to my knees. He was trapped. He knew that if he rejected me – well, sexual misconduct charges were usually leveled against the boys, not girls. “Just enjoy it.” I said. I stroked his groin. It was rock hard already – another asian trait. Singaporean boys just get excited so easily.
“My wife…” He protested weakly.
It was too late. His pants pooled around his ankles, followed by his underwear. He leaned against the bathroom wall as my mouth engulfed his cock. “Mmmm.” I said. “I love your dick. I love your cock. It’s so beautiful.” I didn’t mean it, and he knew I didn’t mean it, but he still loved hearing me say it. “Does your wife ever do this for you?” I asked, looking up at him as I rolled his dick between my palms, my fingers. I gave it a lick, and pushed his foreskin back. He moaned. I guessed not. I licked at it again, and then licked it all over, until it was shiny with my saliva. And then I blew at it. “Oh I love it…” I said.
I let his cock invade my mouth. It went all the way in – it wasn’t a big deal – not really deep into my throat (Singaporean boys again. Why is it the smarter they are, the smaller their dicks?) Not much gag reflex. My head bobbed up and down on his cock, and I sucked at it, creating a little vacuum that I knew guys loved. “MMmm” He was really getting into it, moaning. His hands were splayed against the wall, and he pushed back against the wall, pinned to it by an invisible force. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. I went all the way down on him, till his bushy pubic hair tickled my lips and nose. I had to remember to check my teeth for hair later.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He cried. His cock jerked in my mouth and I felt the first wave of cum spurt against the roof of my mouth. There was one more and that was it. Age had caught up with this guy. I swallowed every last drop of it – he stared at me boggle-eyed. “You swallowed?”
I nodded. “I love the taste of your come.” I said. “I bet your wife doesn’t do this for you.” He nodded meekly.
“I never have sex with her anymore. She’s become menopausal and frigid.” He said. “Even when I did have sex with her – she just laid there and closed her eyes. I don’t think she enjoyed it very much.” That’s the way Singaporean women used to be. Sex was a nasty, dirty thing, enjoyed by the vulgar and poor. I understood him.
I licked off his cock, which had become limp. I cleaned it with my tongue, and then helped him with his pants and belt. “I could help you feel like a man from time to time, Mr Cheong. I don’t mind and I don’t talk.” I told him.
He smiled and said, in his most lawyerly manner, “Thank you, Sue. I’ll consider your offer.”
We rejoined the party, and parted. I popped a mint into my mouth and downed a glass of wine. One down.
Mr Tan was hanging around the fringe of the party. I asked him, “How are the kids, Mr Tan?” He was another partner in our firm, rumoured to be next in-line to Mr Wong. He was enterprising and smart, and had just hit middle age. A family man who always brought the kids to the office. His wife was talking to another guy – another of my buddies. Good job, I thought. He was wide open. I interrupted them, “Mind if I borrow your husband, Mrs Tan?” She laughed and said, go ahead.
Mr Tan was as puzzled and as curious as Mr Cheong had been, as I led him deeper into the house. “Where are we going, Sue?” He asked.
“You’ll see,” I said. “I have to discuss my future with you.”
“Can’t this wait for next year?” Then he laughed at his own joke. I laughed too, putting him at ease.
“I don’t think so – I want to make this memorable.” I said.
He grinned. I think he caught on. We came into a guest bedroom and I locked the door. He was definitely more forward than Mr Cheong. “What do you have in mind, Sue?” He asked. “My wife’s just outside the house, you know. What if someone catches us?”
“Then we had better be quick then. I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you, Mr Tan. I’ve always fantasized about you at night, as I lay naked between the sheets and touched myself…” I walked towards him, undoing the straps of my Gucci frock. That was another thing I loved about it. It came off me so easily – it was like stepping out of a coat. It dropped to the floor behind me, a pool of satin Gucci. My fingers reached round my back and unsnapped my bra straps, and my bra fluttered to the floor as I strode over to Mr Tan. He was staring at me. I hadn’t worn any panties – they hadn’t been necessary. In fact, if you all didn’t know, I never wore any panties if they weren’t necessary. Mr Tan was silent as I embraced him and laid my head against his shoulder. My warm body pressed against his and I felt his bulge pushing at me. He cupped my butt with one hand and put another on my chest.
“Really? You’ve…fantasized about me?” he asked.
“Of course.” I wasn’t lying. I had fantasized killing him in the office when I got frustrated at the sometimes-unreasonable demands of the senior partners. I kissed his neck, and went down to my knees for the second time of the night. I helped him undo his belt and button and fly, and his underwear followed his pants down his leg. I licked his erect cock, which was slightly larger than Cheong’s. He groaned.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this; my wife, my kids… we could be ruined!” He said.
“You, Mr Tan, not me.” I said. “But I don’t talk, Mr Tan. No one will ever know.”
“Oh, Sue…” He said, panting as I suckled his cock.
I looked up at him. “I want you to fuck me now.” I said. I pushed him on to the bed and crawled on top of him, and then proceeded to guide his dick into my pussy. I was already wet. Hell, I was always wet anyway! (Read my other stories and essays. I have a hyperactive clitoris and pussy due to some…well.) Anyhow, I groaned as I impaled myself on him in one smooth thrust. I began to ride him with all the accumulated skill I had, working him up and down, forward and back, left and right. I leaned over him and let him play with my breasts and nipples as I humped him. Not four minutes had passed before I got my first orgasm – I came, swearing and moaning and biting my lips as his cock impaled me. He was wide-eyed.
“Did you really come? Because that was one helluva good act!” He exclaimed.
I panted and leaned over. “Of course I did, lover-boy. I love your cock!” I said. They always like that. “Oh baby, I love fucking you!” I moaned and squeezed his cock with my hungry pussy. I rocked on for few more moments. He began to groan, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“I can’t take it anymore! Let me out! Let me out!” He said, “I’m not wearing a condom! What if you get pregnant?” He moaned. I bounced on him mercilessly.
“I’m on the pill, lover-boy. Don’t you worry! Just come in me! I want you to come in me!” I whispered into his ear. He gave a final exhalation, and I felt his dick jerk. I felt his cum shooting up me, and buried his cock deep into me. He came and then I felt his cock softening in me. Ah, well. Boys will be boys. I gave him a kiss and feigned reluctance to dismount. I finally rolled off him. “You’re the best, lover-boy. Maybe we can continue next year…” I told him. He looked a bit dazed, but he nodded.
Staring up at the ceiling, he said, “My wife never comes for me. She doesn’t even fake it. Wow.” Then he sat up and turned to me. “Of course we’ll continue next year.” I grinned and then went down on him to clean him up. He looked delighted, as I pushed my hair back and grinned at him as I sucked our juices off him. “My wife would never do that.” He said. I wondered to myself why girls never did that for their guys. We changed up and I freshened up a bit, cleaning my pussy out in a shower. He went ahead first. It wouldn’t do to be caught together in our present, flushed states. I put on my clothes and rejoined the party.
I was looking around for Mr Wong, sipping my cocktail, when I felt a hand grip my arm. Speak of the devil. Mr Wong looked at me up and down, and smiled. “Sue! I hope you’re enjoying yourself! Have you had a lot to drink? You look a little flushed!” I smiled and was about to ask him to follow me, when he said, “Sue, sue! I’ve heard lots about you. We feel you have great potential…do follow me, we have lots to discuss.” He directed me out of the house. “Let’s take a walk around the complex, shall we? I’m sure you’ll love my house.”
As Mr Wong walked next to me, he looked younger and sprightlier than his fifty-plus years. He was in great shape – it was a well-known fact that he routinely thrashed younger men than him at tennis. He must swim a lot too, he was pretty tanned for a lawyer. He was tall and broad, and actually rather handsome. Maybe I drank too much. He led me to the garage. There were cars of all sorts in there. A Ferrari, a porshe, a limousine – those were the ones I could identify in the dim garage. He pressed a button and the garaged doors closed. He turned on the lights a notch brighter. Mr Wong asked, “Sue, do you think you should get promoted?” Before I could answer, he pushed me to the limousine. “Bend over.” I hesitated, and Mr Wong shoved me again, pushing me to the car bonnet. He forced my face down onto the cold steel, holding the back of my neck in a strong grip. “If you care for your future, Sue, don’t struggle.” I stopped moving, my nipples hardening against the cold bonnet. He undid the straps on my Gucci frock, and pulled it off me. He tossed it onto the bonnet. Then he unstrapped my bra deftly and smartly, and then pulled my hands behind my back. He used my bra to tie my wrists together. “Oh, I love this.” Mr Wong clapped his hands. “You look wonderful, Sue.” I was rather apprehensive. I had intended on fucking him, not the other way around.
“No underwear, Sue? You’re a rather naughty girl!” He stroked my pussy. I was still bent over the car bonnet obscenely, my ass sticking in the air. I shivered. “And who have you been fucking tonight, eh? Cheong? Tan?” He laughed. “Oh no, they didn’t tell me. But no one tells me anything. I just know. That’s why I’m the boss and they’re not. And Sue, you promotion-grubbing little slut, you fucking little slut, you actually think you can manipulate me?” He laughed again and gave me a hard spank on my butt that made me jump and yelp. “You’re just a whelp.” He said, and spanked me again. I yelped. “Oh, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you!” Mr Wong stroked my gushing pussy. “You little slut.” He tweaked my engorged clit hard, and I moaned in pleasure and pain. “Say you’re a slut! Say it!” He spanked my ass again, and I knew it was red.
“I’m…I’m a slu…slut.” I moaned, as he began rubbing my pussy in earnest. Then he stopped. I turned my head to look at him, and saw him picking up a can of dark engine oil. He poured it onto my ass and I felt it drip down my ass and legs. Mr Wong poured more and then began to rub my asshole, my little puckered anus. He put a finger there and I gasped, and flinched as he pushed it in, working more engine oil into my arsehole. He stuffed his whole finger into my ass, and I felt it in me, a rude unwelcome invasion. It was as if something was lost inside. Mr Wong worked more engine oil into my already oily anus, and then I felt another finger at my back door, and he slowly slid it in. He worked more oil into my anus.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you, slut?” Mr Wong asked. “I bet you are. I would if I were you.” I felt another finger pushing into my anus, and I bit my lips in pain and humiliation. My wrists were tied tightly together with my own bra, and my ass was in a lovely position for him, the way I was, bent over that car bonnet. There were three oily fingers wriggling in my oily anus. I felt a little sick. Suddenly, there were no fingers. I felt oily fingers on my hair and scalp, and heard him undoing his pants. “I don’t want any oil on my clothes.” He said. “It’s murder to get out.” He pulled my head back, his shitty, oily fingers entangled in my hair. I felt him place his cock against my oily asshole, and felt him pushing into me. “Relax, slut! Relax! It’ll be easier if you relax, bitch.”
I felt Mr Wong push all the way into me, until his balls slapped against my clit. I moaned. “You are enjoying it, bitch!” He pulled out a bit and went in again, and from long, slow strokes, began to pump in and out of my asshole hard and fast. It hurt at first, but my ass became numbed and soon it felt alright. I had had anal sex before but never this viciously. It hurt. His oily hands roamed all over my body, soiling my shivering skin. I moaned louder. Mr Wong began to play with my clit as he invaded my ass, he mauled and tweaked and teased my clit, and stroked my pussy as he raped my anus. I felt myself on the brink, and then I came, with a loud groan and shiver as mixed feelings of pleasure and revulsion swept through my body. He hadn’t come yet. Mr Wong was pretty tough. His fingers brought me to one more orgasm before I felt him jerk inside my ass. He shot his sperm deep into my rectum, pulling me right onto him, splitting me with his oily dick. I felt dirty. He came wave after wave, deep into my ass. “You little bitch,” he said. “You little bitch. You’re mine when work starts again.” He cock softened in my ass and he pulled it out.
Mr Wong dragged me off the car bonnet by my hair, causing me to yelp in pain. He forced me to my knees in front of him. My hands were still tied together, and my body was covered in sweat and motor oil. I felt his cum leaking from my gaping anus. “Clean me.” he said, shoving my cock into my face. I recoiled in disgust. It was oily and had just come from my ass. “And I mean now. If you want to keep your job.” I closed my eyes and took his soft dick into my mouth. It tasted terrible and metallic and tasted salty and bitter and I gagged. He gripped my hair tighter and shoved his cock into my mouth. I sucked it off, and when he was satisfied, he pulled out of me. I gagged a few times, threatening to retch. I spat onto the floor, trying to get that taste out of my mouth. “You little slut.” Mr Wong sneered at me. “I own you now.” He pulled up his underwear and pants, and did his belt. I knelt there on the floor, with my head bowed and humbled. He gripped my hair and pulled me up to my feet again, naked and oily, my wrists still bound behind my back with my bra. Mr Wong’s sperm was slowly leaking down my thighs from my anus. He turned me around and I thought he was going to undo my bra that bound my wrists. Instead, he pushed me towards the car again, and pushed me down against the bonnet once more. He kicked my feet apart, widening my pussy and ass. I was back in the same position again, my ass thrust into the air. What was happening? Wasn’t it over?
“Ahmad!” Mr Wong called. I looked around, and saw a man approach from the darkness of a garage. I cringed. There had been another! He was a Malay man, dark-skinned and well-built. Obviously Mr Wong’s driver.
“Yes, boss?” he asked, subserviently, eyeing my naked body greedily.
“Take your friends, the other drivers who are here, and teach this bitch a lesson. She was a very naughty slut today. Make sure you do her hard, but please, Ahmad, I don’t want the hassle of another dead body this time, ok? And remember to take lots of pictures!” Mr Wong wiped his hands on a rag, and tossed it on the floor. I realised that the rag was my frock. I shivered in fear. Ahmad looked large and imposing. How many were there?
“Ok boss, whatever you say!” Ahmad smiled, and rubbed his hands with glee. “Boys! Ahbang!” He called. Three other Malay men and an Indian guy came into the garage. They all stared at me in wonder. I lowered my head onto the bonnet. Mr Wong came over to me and petted my ass.
“Show them a good time, eh, slut?” He laughed. “Treat her rough, boys, but I want her alive and back home tonight, yes? Don’t forget to take pictures or videos and show me!” He petted my ass again. Mr Wong turned away to go, but then turned around. “And Sue?”
I looked at him.
“Happy New Year.”
Ahmad and the four other men laughed and approached me. I felt Ahmad’s hand on my oily, naked ass, and I felt a cock slap against my thigh. I closed my eyes.