The Pat Wong Diaries

A week had gone by before Harry decided that it was time to move on with the next step.

"It is time to have him enter the sacred sanctuary," Harry informed me, "to have him step into the temple where his object of worship dwells."

We brainstormed that Saturday morning over strong cups of Mocha coffee, and after an hour of tossing around ideas, we settled on a simple plan, and it came from me.

"We'll just leave in his mailbox a pink envelope, scented in jasmine and addressed to me. He will bring it over himself and you will greet him and ask him to come in."

Harry nodded with approval at the elegance of my idea.

"Yes, very good," he smiled. "Yes," he nodded again, "very good." I could see from the way he shifted in his seat that he was aroused. He then squeezed his now obviously erect penis, as if to calm it down.

So, we headed for the pile of junk mail we never opened, quickly sifted through it and grabbed a yellow envelope that was addressed to Harry.

We spent the rest of the afternoon tossing around ideas about what to do once the man was inside our house.

We agreed at once that he would not see me at all. I would stay upstairs in the bedroom, completely naked, stretched on the bed, masturbating. This was mainly for Harry: he wanted to interact with the man who wanted to penetrate his wife with the knowledge that I, the woman that is being lusted over, and his wife to boot, was nearby, naked, all flesh and masturbating.

We also settled on tossing around a couple of pantyhose socks under the table. Harry wanted to see if the neighbor would be bold enough to pick them up.

"That would tell us a bit about his inner character, about how gutsy he is," Harry explained.

"We should also leave some of your DVDs around," I ventured hesitantly.

"Yes," Harry laughed. "Some Rocco porno DVDs. And that video with Ronald Jeremly on the front cover where he is wearing a thick gold chain with a dollar sign and holding a stack of dollars. Excellent!"

"And we should also fire up some Tun Huang incense to tickle his nose," I added. Harry was very pleased with my creativity and gave me a gentle squeeze in the right breast.

"Well done," he said in formal Chinese.

So the broad strokes of the plan would have Harry offer the neighbor some tea, have him sit down by the coffee table under which my pantyhose socks lay, chat with him, find out as much as possible about him, and see where the conversation goes.

"We should set up the wireless camera in the bathroom," Harry suddenly proposed. "If I were him, I would not pass up the opportunity to masturbate in this house. And he will masturbate, I guarantee you. I want to see how big his cock is."

"And make sure that you offer him some tea," I adde, "and load it with Horny Goat, Tongcat Ali, Fenugreek, and Nutmeg. Don't forget the strand of saffron."

Harry nodded meaningfully and took notes.

And so we spent the next hour setting up the tiny camera, concealing it behind the fake flowers on the towel rack, testing the reception and the recording software. We went through a couple of dry runs and by mid-afternoon, we were all set.

Satisfied with a morning wisely spent, we took a fresh shower together and then headed out for a late lunch: spicy Vietnamese beef Pho with crunchy spring rolls and Jasmine tea.

Harry stayed up until around 1:30 in the morning to sneak out and stuff the envelope in the neighbor's box.

It was around ten thirty in the morning when the bell rang. We were wide awake by then, the socks, the incense, the porno DVDs in place, and the camera ready for action.

I was already naked so I took my position on the bed and began stroking my pussy. The laptop was beside me so that I could monitor the man if he ever went into the bathroom.

Harry smiled and nodded his approval.

"I am leaving the door open so that you can listen in," he said, and then went downstairs to answer the front door.

The man's voice was loud and strong. I was surprised. From the blushing and fretting he had displayed when interacting with me, I was expecting a timid, flustered voice. It was the opposite. It was Harry who sounded anxious.

"This was left in my mailbox," the man said.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir, thank you so much," I heard Harry say, "please come in. Yes, please come in. You are very kind, indeed."

"Oh, no, no problem," the man said.

"No, please, come in. I insist. We will have some tea. I insist."

"If you insist," the man said, and I heard Harry loudly close the door.

"Come in, come in, sit, sit." I could feel from his voice that Harry was excited and nervous.

"Thank you," answered the man.

"We have never been properly introduced," Harry began.

"Paul Shapin," the man said.

"Harry Wong," Harry retorted.

"Paul!" I whispered and started rubbing my pussy.

"I have some Jasmine tea ready," Harry said. "Let me get some."

"I would love to have some," Paul said. He sounded like a man eager to be polite but was clearly a little intimidated by the overwhelmingly Chinese decor surrounding him. A large statue of the Buddha and his naked belly greeted him when he came in. Then there were the paintings of peaceful lagoons in the old style that circled the living room. Then the bulky oak tables with the Chinese calligraphy. And I am sure the Tun Huang incense must have tickled his nose and made his heart race a little.

"You have a beautiful home, Mr. Wong," Paul said, "very nice decoration."

"Ah, it is all thanks to my wife," Harry said. "She has very good taste in art and interior design."

"Yes, clearly," he said. "Very nice paintings," he added.

"Yes, all originals."

Paul whistled.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" he then suddenly asked. "I was just working in the yard and my hands are a little dirty."

"Oh, please go right ahead," Harry said meaningfully, knowing that I was listening in.

I heard Paul close the bathroom door, so I quickly turned to the laptop to watch. I was breathless. It was happening too fast.

Paul didn't waste any time. I saw him stick something in his nose and sniff at it eagerly as soon as he closed the door. He had indeed picked up the pantyhose socks, both of them, and was rubbing them against his face. Then, he carefully put down the pantyhose socks in a corner, unzipped his pants and lowered them below his knees and took out his cock.

I had to blink open my eyes. His penis was unreasonably enormous. It was thicker than my arm and was at least a foot long. The first thought that occurred to me was, "how could such a thing fit in his pants."

But what was even more astonishing was that as soon as he took he cock out, as soon as he dangled it over the sink, he cleared his throat as if about to say something serious, something that was down to earth and no-nonsense, tightly squeezed the top of his cock once, sneezed once and then began to ejaculate. I counted nine, regular eruptions of seminal fluid, all powerful, to the last one.

My heart was racing. This was a savage animal, perhaps even dangerous, who could easily overpower Harry and me with his lust and his powerful, meaty cock if he wanted to.

But Paul was not done. After the last blast of semen, he started grabbing items left and right and sniffing them: towels, toothpaste tubes, cups -- he sniffed at everything, including the dirty yellow bathroom mat, which he greedily rubbed against his face. Then he picked up a toothbrush, ran it under hot water and then slowly inserted it in his ass. His cock was still solid and he started pumping it with his right hand, his wedding band glistening in the lights. And then he began to ejaculate again, shooting his semen on the sink, just as powerfully as the first time.

I watched in astonishment. This was certainly not going to flatter Harry's ego. A penis probably more than twice as big as his, and a seminal stamina of a horse -- how was he going to absorb such brutal facts and the evidence that supported them beyond any doubt?

His second ejaculation done, he slowly removed the toothbrush from his ass, smelled it and sat it beside the socks. Then he pulled up his pants, carefully, almost politely, cleaned off the sperm he had splattered on the sink with a couple of Kleenex, ran some water on the sink to wash away the semen on the sink, and then flushed the toilet. He then quickly washed his hands, picked up the socks and the toothbrush and stuffed them in his pocket, and, clearing his throat, he opened the door and turned off the lights.

"I love the painting you have in the bathroom," he said with his strong voice.

"Yes. That's a nineteenth century piece of a little fishing village off the port city of Shantou," Harry said. "That's in the north of the Guangdong province," Harry added.

"Thank you," I heard Paul say, and then I heard Harry sipping his tea loudly.

They sat down and started chatting, Harry doing most of the talking. Paul was a marketing director in a software company. He had been with the company for four and a half years. He had been married for twelve years, was originally from Philadelphia, and had moved to the area ten years earlier to follow a job.

They chatted on for another ten minutes, then Paul's cell phone rang. It was Paul's wife and she was looking for him.