The Fiery Dragon Ch 04

The Fiery Dragon Ch 04

This is a chapter in a longer story starting in China, about fifty years ago, at the beginning of the first interactions among Americans and Chinese on their territory. It now proceeds to Chicago. All characters are over 18. © Brunosden, All Rights Reserved.

David and Phillip in Chicago

Quick Summary of the Story to Here: It's 1980. David, a Chicago graduate student and intellectual star in nuclear engineering had taken a summer off to guide American tourists in China. David is a nerd, a very tall six foot four, in shape, with one the largest dicks anyone has ever seen—exaggerated by his slim waist and hips. While there, he met Phillip, the son of an aged PRC General and bigwig. Phillip was serving out a PRC Party initiation as the head tour guide. Phillip is gay, also in shape, and very privileged, thanks to his father. They bunked together during the tours. Phillip was astonished at the size of David's equipment—and decided to enhance his rep among his young male friends in Shanghai by taking David as a date to a risqué club, named The Fiery Dragon. Phillip took David's cherry at the club before a small audience. David returned the favor and they became friends and began a torrid affair. David returned to Chicago at the end of the summer, and Phillip has been coincidentally (and perhaps suspiciously) named a vice-consul at the PRC Consulate in Chicago—a post presumably arranged by his father. They meet again upon Phillip's arrival in Chicago.

Chicago, Late September 1980, in David's voice.....

The legal and diplomatic arrangements were finalized. And I had received the call. Phillip was arriving on China Southern Airlines at O'Hare on Saturday. Of course, I had agreed to meet him—although I couldn't provide the chauffeured car that he had used in Shanghai with me. In fact, I had no car at all.

I was really quite anxious about the next few days, however. Phillip had been raised as a privileged young man, in luxurious residences (a far cry from his father, the General's humble beginnings). He was a diplomat—albeit a junior one, representing one of the most powerful nations on earth. Wealthy, now employed and probably with quite a bit of spendable income. Always before our coupling had been in hotels—neutral territory, so to speak.

I, on the other hand, was a starving graduate student, piling up debt to meet the expensive tuition and cost of living in Evanston, even with the assistantships that were promised for this year.

I had lucked into a terrific apartment and thought I was really living well. It was on the third (top) floor of an older building on Church Street, not far from the park and beach—and a short L-ride to Chicago's school of nuclear engineering. One bedroom, one bath, and another room that served as living, dining, library and study. The "kitchen" was one wall in the one big room. Tall ceilings. Typical student furniture. Laundry in the basement. But, it was convenient to the L—with a stop only a few blocks away. But it didn't compare to the top floor apartment that Phillip had called home in Shanghai. I made a few small changes—making room in the closet and a dresser for him, and one large one—I traded in my old twin for a much larger mattress that virtually filled the bedroom. And I bought a few sets of new white sheets. We must keep our priorities straight!

I took the L to O'Hare—the Purple and Blue lines, and found my way to International Arrivals. I was more than an hour early. The flight was posted as On Time, actually about 15 minutes early. I was obviously excited to re-kindling an old flame. So I posted myself at the arrivals gate to wait. I opened the paper sack that I had carried, and a helium-filled balloon, silver, with a rampant fiery dragon painted on both sides, rose and floated about three feet above me. At 6-4, I towered over all the other greeters, but I nevertheless liked the dragon touch.

Phillip, with a diplomatic passport and a long-term diplomatic visa, eased through VIP Immigration and was among the first to emerge through the big steel double-doors that separated would-be international arrivals from greeters and family. He spotted the dragon immediately and moved toward that side of the exit. We greeted with a bro-hug, and I grabbed one of the two canvas bags that he was carrying.

He leaned in and whispered, "I've missed you David. And your fiery dragon. How far is home?"

I knew immediately that he too was impatient. "Probably a little more than an hour. It is Saturday and the L's run a little less frequently."

"I guess I can wait. But, it's going to be hard. In fact, I already am. I have been most of the trip."

Some 90 minutes later, we emerged from the Davis stop and walked the three blocks to the apartment. By then it was late afternoon, and the cool autumn air of Chicago had fallen. "Is it always this cold?"

"Phillip, this IS warm. Wait another month. It's not like Shanghai's perpetual summer. And it snows. Actually quite a lot. But, I promise to keep you warm. I've got a pretty good source of heat, as you know." He immediately smiled and slapped me on the butt, remembering the size of my fiery dragon.

We entered, and he walked and looked around. It took about 30 seconds. The place was that small. Then he pulled a grand smile. "I love the bed. The shower will be tight for two. But, nothing else matters." We each dropped a bag and were in each other's arms. A few seconds later we were rolling around in the king. Minutes later, we were pulling clothes from each other. Characteristically, Phillip was commando. Chicago climate might change that!

Phillip's lips went immediately to my swollen and tender nipples. I responded by pulling him hard into me as my fingers reached his entrance. And a few minutes after that, my fiery dragon, rigid and hot, was lodged in its favorite cave, sending waves of warmth inside my lover. It was a frantic few minutes after ten days of abstinence. I plunged over and over, violently, taking no prisoners. Then, with one giant blast of heat, I filled him to the brim, swiped a hand over my chest to coat my fingers with his cum, and fell into his fragrant cum. His legs wrapped around to hold me tight as I took his lips again and our tongues dueled. I pulled off and fed him my fingers on which he sucked like a newborn to a teet. There'd be time for slow and sensual later. We both needed that.

Thirty minutes later, my fiery dragon had again deposited its seed in Phillip's lair. (By the way, it's my understanding that dragons breed by laying eggs, but, presumably male dragons have to fertilize those eggs--so we won't quibble over semantics. We had a dragon motif going and I wasn't going to risk anything with scientific fact!) We were lying side by side, fingers playing with shafts, hoods and sacs. Just "laxing." Suddenly, Phillip sat up, looked around the room and asked, "Where is the tie? I love it when you wear it while we make love. It's like a leash. I'm the dragon master. And you, my fiery dragon, are still in training. I'm hoping to wear it out—or get it so coated with cum that we'll need others." He smiled mysteriously, "Which I've brought, of course."

My classes—the real ones, not the continued instruction in sexuality-- had just begun. So I had little work that weekend. And he didn't start at the Consulate until Monday. I had stocked the fridge with food and beer. Thus, except for a brief trip on Sunday afternoon during which I showed him the way to the Consulate, we spent our time in bed, in each other's laps, in each other's caves, or in quiet conversation about the last few days and the coming expectations. We were like old lovers reuniting after long separate trips, anxious to "re-nest" again and again.

We had known each other only six weeks. But, already, I thought we were trading secrets. Little did I realize that Phillip was far more sophisticated than I. I thought that I knew everything about him. But, really I knew almost nothing. More about that later. (I've got to keep up your interest in this story after you get tired of the endless descriptions of copulation! I lost count that weekend after eight.)

He confessed that the General did indeed know all about us. But, he was a wise and experienced man. He had arranged the assignment—scheduled to be two years—to provide him an opportunity to "get this boy stuff out of my system," while determining whether foreign service was something he wanted to pursue for a life's work. The new Chicago Consul was a close friend, and presumably would report back on Phillips' performance—and his lifestyle. "During the next two years, I am to find a wife—or he will find one for me. I'm to return to Shanghai regularly for consultations—but really so he and mother can introduce me to suitable marriage partners. They of course assume it will be a Chinese woman that they will choose. He wants heirs before he dies. And he wants me to have a wife who will take care of my mother when he does. Traditions in China are very slow to change."

Then he rolled back onto the pillow and looked up at the high ceiling of painted metal tiles. He was silent for a long time, wondering how much he should say. When he finally spoke, he really didn't reveal any secrets. I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. "I think I have a necessary confession, David. I like being with you. Very much. And I'm pleased to be here in Chicago."

"When we first met in Shanghai, I was sure you were gay—or that you could be for me. You had that hungry, take me look from the very first moment. All I had to do was entice you into my web. You were so innocent. So naïve. I flashed my nudity—and you colored in embarrassment—or was it interest? I was pretty sure that I had netted you. It would only be a few days before I would have you in my bed. But, I never intended anything more than a fling with an interesting American."

"The first time you dropped your pants in front of me, I nearly had a heart attack. As you must know, that is a trophy cock. By far, the biggest I've ever seen. Almost freak. I knew, of course, that you as an American—were probably arrogant, proud and all-knowing. Your height and build suggested a commanding personality. We had been taught to expect that from Americans. I guessed that dick gave you the right to assume control over any relationship. But, I was willing to take the chance."

"So, I decided to establish my rank in our friendship from the beginning. You are the only American that I've ever invited to The Fiery Dragon. And I did it to impress you and my friends—aware that Father too would probably soon hear that I was fucking the biggest-dicked American ever seen in Shanghai. My rep sky-rocketed. I had scored. I had scored big. Down deep, I guessed that Father would be very proud of my conquest. But, it was still a lark. A challenge."

"I never dreamed that you'd turn the tables so quickly. In just a few hours, you morphed from an innocent bottom conquest to a dominant top. I didn't believe your story. You were definitely an experienced and forceful top. You were lying for some reason. But, you filled me as I've never been filled in my life. You've given me incredible orgasms. And, this is the difficult part to understand. You did it without arrogance. I could feel that you wanted to give me pleasure—as much as you yourself were getting. For you, it was never a contest. Rather, there was an inexplicable mutuality. No guile. No hidden agenda."

"I had never experienced that before with a partner. I was pretty sure you weren't doing it to gain advantage. You were just a nice guy with a talented and enormous love wand who used it to give pleasure. I melted, David. I melted. And I fell for you."

"I'm really not some saint, Phillip. I was shocked at the general level of nudity that was taken for granted in Shanghai. And how you used me at the club. But, I wanted to be used. I enjoyed every minute—even the applause from your friends. By the way, I think that applause was for me—not you. You were my first—the first to take me; the first to be taken by me. I have nothing to compare, and no reason to want to."

"You do realize David that this situation is temporary. Within a few weeks, I'll have an apartment—presumably in a building exclusively for employees of the Consulate. And with a travel schedule that will occupy me for days, perhaps weeks at a time. And in two years, this will be over. Can you accept me on those terms?"

"For now, I'll take what I can get. Maybe kismet will happen during that time. I sure hope so. Incidentally, for now, that means my dragon is ready to fly and burn again."

I rolled him onto his side and pushed his leg forward. Then I bent down and tasted the concoction that oozed from his opening—my cum, his juice, the sandalwood and the soap on his soft skin—a very curious mix of East and West. I could feel him shudder as I replaced my tongue with a finger. It wasn't long before I was scooping my cum and transferring it to his rigid dick. I gripped, positioned and plunged. I heard the gasp, followed by the sign of sexual pleasure. Quickly, I grabbed his gut, held it tight, plunged, bottomed and began the slow hip thrusts that would bring both of us to another welcome climax. He groaned, presumably in pleasure, stuck deeply with my pole.

Then, without withdrawing, I covered him with my body and pulled up the quilt—for later when our internal furnaces were banked. My head rested on his shoulder. And our breathing synced as we slept. Our first two days in Chicago had been everything I hoped.

I walked with him to the L on Monday morning. He traveled to the Consulate. I went to my morning classes—at one of which I was a TA. It would be hard to concentrate, knowing that Phillip would be back in my apartment that night. But, I resolved to try.

The story continues in Phillip's voice.....

At 8:30 on Monday, I arrived at the Chicago Consulate for my first day as vice-consul—the junior post and maybe just one step above a go-fer. But my father, the General, had secured this slot, and I expected at least some level of deference and maybe even a chance to move up quickly to meaningful work. My academic record, my commitment to the Party and my family's position in Chinese society all point to that success.

My father is a top PRC party official, running the party in Shanghai, the most important commercial city in China.

Beijing was definitely the political capital and center of gravity, the HQ of the Party and the Red Guard, and a dozen other large cities were rapidly developing China's industrial and manufacturing place in the world. But, Shanghai, the ancient city where Westerners had subjugated us for generations was emerging as the finance and banking capital—and the intellectual center of China. Given the voracious appetite of China for foreign exchange and industrial loans, Shanghai's future was guaranteed. China was using Shanghai to thumb its nose at the imperialists who had made this city their own in China. Thus, father was an important man—and, as the oldest son, I was his designated heir.

My first day at the Consulate was quite different from anything I had imagined. The professional staff, all relatively new to the recently created post, were older than me and veterans of the foreign service—and quietly ticked over my posting to what would be a prime foreign assignment—for my first. I was greeted and welcomed by the Consul's assistant—since the Consul himself was on a business trip to inspect grain loading facilities in Nebraska—where China was procuring enormous quantities of American wheat. The introduction was brief and perfunctory. Then he outlined my first task.

Furniture had been delivered over the weekend to the new offices—and it needed to be assembled. That job fell to me. I'm not particularly trained in the use of tools (except those used on a farm), and I'm really not very good with them. So the task was going very slowly—to the obvious dismay of my superiors who rapidly claimed the furniture as it was completed and directed me to carry it to their various offices.

By the end of the day, everyone had a desk and a chair, and a small conference room had a large table and eight chairs for meetings. The walls, however, were blank. The secure telex/communications room was operating—the lifeblood of any foreign government office. And the phones were "almost" installed. At the end of the day, I was exhilarated that I had accomplished the tasks—since none of the piles of furniture components had anything but the most rudimentary pictures of installation technique. I was exhausted, dirty and sweaty in a way that I had not felt since the brief time that I had spent on the collective farm as part of my education and initiation into China's elite. (Father had insisted that no one was exempt from a year of physical hard labor in the fields.) And the look of the Consular official, a 50-something small man in a too-shiny suit, expressed it all: The assembly job was my initiation into diplomacy. I had just passed. But just. It had taken too long.

I had skipped lunch and finally left the office at 7—after everyone else, save the night communications officer—who was just beginning his day, given the time difference—I left for the apartment. David had taught me well the details of the L—and I got home without mishap. On the L, I thought back over the day and realized that there had been absolutely no call for my diplomacy or foreign studies. Maybe tomorrow. I guess I was going to have to earn my stripes. Father might even turn out to be an impediment.

I let myself into the apartment as he looked up. "I was afraid you had gotten lost on your first day. Are you okay?"

David had been home for hours. He had prepared dinner which was in the oven warming. And his notes were spread over the dining table—which also served as his desk. He was dressed in a tee and tight jeans, barefoot. The very large bulge at the worn, feathered crotch, as he stood, told me he was commando and had been thinking about sex for some time—presumably with me. The overheated room was welcome after the short cold walk from the L.

"You are not going to believe. I spent the day like a common laborer putting together furniture. The office windows don't open. And heat is already being pumped into the offices. I need a shower."

He put on a mock disturbed and stern face, the kind you use when you are training a pet. "I think it's time to set some rules, Phillip. When you come home, you immediately walk over to me and hug me. Then, I'll decide what is next on our agenda."

I was surprised, but liked his attitude and his new rule. He waited as I walked over and took him in my arms. Our lips met as our bodies crushed together.

As he pulled me into his lap, he began, "Forget about the shower. I want you just the way you are. We can shower together after."

"But I smell, David."

"It's good smell, Phillip. The smell of hard work. A man's funk, blended quite nicely with your signature sandalwood." Then he stood and carried me into the bedroom and began to remove my clothes as I stood like a lamppost and allowed him to do so. I really liked it when he took charge like that. When I was naked, my cock standing at attention and saluting my roommate, he pushed me onto the bed. Then he stood back, pulled his tee over his head and dropped the jeans. His chest was slim and cut. And his dragon flipped out-- its one eye focused on my naked body. It was all puffed up, the hood ruffled around the corona, obviously ready to fly—and to play.

He fluffed it and stood akimbo to give it room. "I've been waiting, Phillip."

"I can tell, David. But, are you sure? Can't I shower?"

"No. I think I'm going to enjoy the very natural Comrade Tang."

Curiously, my fatigue had evaporated. I was ready to play with this wonderful man and his impressive pet dragon. I slipped off the bed, knelt before him and took the head inside. It expanded immediately and filled my mouth. I held him still and used a tongue to taste the essence. My hands slipped around and held his muscled ass in place as I attempted to swallow more of the impressive instrument. It touched the back of my throat and cut off my breath. But, it was still only half inserted. I'd never deep throat all of his dragon. Then, he pulled back, reached down under by arms and lifted me and backed me again onto the bed.