Mellow Yellow Next Generation Ch 03

Synopsis: In Mellow Yellow Next Generation, Ch. 1, Patrick Poon lost his virginity simultaneously with Allison Koowootha, his black girlfriend. In MYNG2, Allison's best friend and Patrick's sister, Pamela Poon stalked Prof. Studley-Moore, broke into his house, stole his pajamas and fantasized about her professor using an emergency candle. That episode ended with Pamela's startling admission that she became the professor's mistress. MYNG 3 begins where Allison and Pamela's conversation left off.

*

The staff of the restaurant in Sydney's Chinatown bustled around the dining room, ignoring the two young women, one Aboriginal and the other Chinese, seated at the table in the corner. The waitresses and busboys prepared the main dining room for the dinner hour. The aroma of vanilla, coconut and red bean soup filled the restaurant as the chefs prepared the dessert table. The staff of a Chinese restaurant is always too polite to remind diners that the dim sum lunch was long over. Besides, the two women were in such deep conversation that it would be rude to interrupt such a significant interchange.

At one point in the long conversation, the Chinese woman said something that made her black friend's mouth drop. After a long pause, the black woman spoke:

"Did I hear you right, Pam? Did you just tell me that you're Mark's mistress? How exactly did that happen? Usually sexual fantasies and obsessions never turn into real romances."

"It turned out to be easier than I first thought. On Monday, I was scared that the University would expel me for breaking into a professor's house and stealing his pajamas. I didn't hear anything about it in my biology or psychology classes. Mark taught his Monday English 101 class as usual but I noticed that he lacked some enthusiasm or he was somehow distracted. I decided to test the waters that afternoon when I returned the disk with his thesis on it.

'I hope that this has been helpful, Professor Studley-Moore. I'm quite sure I caught all the wayward punctuation and grammar, even though English is my second language. By the way, are you feeling well today? I noticed that your lecture on late Nineteenth Century authors wasn't as spirited as your lectures usually are.'

'Physically, I'm quite all right, Miss Poon. I'm just shaken mentally because someone broke in and robbed my house on the weekend. The police investigated but all that was missing was a personal object. I can't reveal the nature of the object because the investigation is still ongoing. It's quite clear to me that the thief was a depraved sexual pervert. My losses are minimal from the robbery but I feel so violated as a result.'

I almost blurted out, 'No, no. Please violate me. I'm the one who should be violated by your willie.' But I held my peace, given that he believed the unknown thief was a pervert. Instead, I tried to make him calm and suggested some security measures he could take. Then I diverted his mind back to his thesis by going over some of the corrections that I made. That seemed to do the trick.

'Well, Miss Poon, you've done a remarkable job in proofreading my thesis. If English is your second language, may I ask how you obtained such a good command of the language. Most of my students from Hong Kong need some ESL classes to take my course. And don't ask me about the students from the Mainland.'

Finally, Mark was taking some personal interest in me beyond the normal interest he took in all his students. That was a good sign, so I told him my story. 'I was born in Hong Kong but my family and I live in Queensland now. My stepfather is English, Professor Studley-Moore. He's always insisted that we speak proper English. He says that his working class English always held him back in England and among the ex-pats in Hong Kong so, he didn't want us to suffer for bad English the way he did. Chinese children respect their parents so I made special efforts to conquer the English language. But my English skills never seemed to bring me any respect in Bummkrak.'

'I quite agree with your stepfather about learning proper English. Do you know that English people think that someone with a Welsh accent is especially stupid, only fit for mining coal. That's why I came to the University of New South Wales, to get some respect for my work. I suspect it's the same reason you left Queensland as well.'

Oh God, now he was getting personal. I was searching for what to say to get us to the next level of intimacy but Mark took things up a notch himself.

'Perhaps I can make your skills in the English language pay off. I don't know if you're busy this weekend, Miss Poon, but I have tickets for a Chopin piano recital at the Opera House. The person who was supposed to accompany me can't make it and, well dash it all, would you care to go to the concert with me instead?'

Of course I accepted. And that was how I finally got our first date set up. All my studying paid off at last. I had a date with my dream man because I proofed his thesis. I prepared my clothes for the date carefully. If Chopin was on the program, I would do well to emulate George Sand, if I was going to turn Mark's mind towards having an affair with me. George Sand had a lifelong affair with Frederick Chopin and she dressed in men's clothes. So I chose the pantsuit that I bought in a little boutique in King's Cross. Clothing in Sydney is so much more fashionable than in Bummkrak.

Mark was the one who suggested dinner before the recital. We ate at an Indian restaurant on the Rocks. I suppose that Mark chose it because it was ethnically (and racially) neutral for us. The dinner was marvelous. Not just the food but the conversation. It was as if Mark's mouth had been stopped up for years and cherished this moment to get it out. If I wanted to get closer to Mark, he was certainly showing me the way.

Over spicy vindaloos, kormas, and biranyis, Mark poured his heart out to me, how he had grown up poor in the Rhonda Valley and struggled for recognition in his profession. He wasn't even shy about his unsatisfactory domestic life with that white bitch. I, of course, listened and took notes of everything he said for future reference. When a man pours out his heart to you, he's halfway to seduction already. I was ever so supportive.

With the dinner over, we walked past the harbour ferries along Circular Quay towards the Opera House. Have you ever noticed that the Sydney Opera House looks like a surreal sculpture of a woman's genitals? And we were entering the clams. I said to myself 'Take a hint Mark!'

There was still half an hour to go until the performance, so Mark bought a VB for himself and a glass of wine for me. We strolled through the foyer to see and to be seen, the handsome Welshman and me, his China doll. From the looks we received, I must say that we really make a visually appealing pair.

Mark and I hooked up with a group of his fellow academics in the lobby. We chatted for a while. They were discreet and didn't ask Mark about Hellweg's whereabouts. Mark was equally discreet and introduced me as his proofreader and not as one of his students. Of course, white people can never tell the age of we Asians so they readily accepted the half-truth. I never once had an intellectual conversation in Bummkrak so I quite enjoyed the way the conversation jumped from subject to subject and the way they included me, almost as if they were testing whether I was a suitable match for Mark. Allison, if you can keep up with the conversation of older intellectual people, they will never talk down to you.

During the piano recital, Mark took my hand for the first time. That was the first time we actually touched. At this first bit of intimacy between us, I started to become quite wet between my legs. I was getting so horny that I was afraid that it would seep through my pants. Fortunately, it was not long before the intermission. To avoid showing my feelings through a damp spot on the upholstery, I told Mark that I needed to go 'tinkle'. I got the last free stall and pulled down my pants, my pantyhose and finally my panties. As I expected, I was drenched between my legs but it hadn't penetrated all the layers of clothes as yet. I wiped myself dry, but I was still horny from holding Mark's hand. If it wasn't for the queue forming outside the stall, I would have done myself right there in the Opera House Ladies' Loo.

In the second half of the recital, Mark became bolder and put his hand on my thigh. He just rested it there. Besides, I had on a pant suit so he couldn't very well fumble under my dress, could he? The man is quite proper so he removed his hand well before the lights came on for the encore. Mark was quiet as we walked towards the exit but, just as we got to the door, he said 'Isn't this a splendid evening for a stroll. Why don't we view the harbour and the Botanical Gardens?'

That's just what every woman wants, a romantic walk in the moonlight as a precursor to getting laid. We walked around the cove until we reached Mrs. McQuarrie's Chair. You know that she was the governor's wife and she had the prisoners carve a chair out of the rock so she could watch the boats entering the harbour. The official story was that her husband wanted to know when the ships came in to Sydney harbour so he could grab the best cargo for himself. The unofficial story was that Mrs. McQuarrie wanted to grab the best and freshest willies on the transport ships for herself.

I was afraid that Mark wanted to sit on the cold rock the same way that the awful Mrs. McQuarrie did but he motioned to have a seat on one of the benches that line the cove. I took advantage of the cool evening breeze off the water and asked Mark to put his arm around me. I put my head on his shoulder and savoured the intimacy and Mark's warmth. I didn't want to break the spell, but Mark spoke:

'I'm afraid I've talked too much about a lot about myself tonight, Miss Poon. I haven't given you a fair go at all. Perhaps you should tell me a bit about yourself instead.'

Mark asked for a little bit about myself but, instead, I laid all my hurts on him that evening. I told him about my broken home, how my father physically abused my mother and finally abandoned his wife and family to poverty. Then I described the racial prejudice that Chinese suffer in Queensland and how I hated Bummkrak because I had only one friend in the whole town and she was black. I even complained about being intelligent because men seemed to want only bimbos. Allison, I told Mark some things I never even confided in you.

I really thought I blew it because what real man wants a whiner for a date? So I quickly changed gears and told him how much I admired my stepfather for marrying my mother out of love that conquered prejudice. Then I praised them both for not letting circumstances stand in the way of love and ultimate prosperity. But I hadn't blown it. It turned out that it was the whiney stuff that grabbed him.

'I do believe Miss Poon that, despite our differences in age and background, that we're very much alike. We're both intelligent people who have a difficult time forming relationships. Despite our differences, I haven't had any problems relating to you. In fact, I've had so much fun that I want to see you again sometime.'

'Sometime, Professor Studley-Moore? I don't want the evening to end now. Please take me home with you.'

I couldn't believe what was coming out of my own mouth. I thought I blew it this time with my boldness but it seems that he was waiting for some kind of cue from me. He just said 'Let's get a taxi.'

I was so happy he agreed, not least of which was that, if the evening ended here, I'd have to take the 'chunder bus' with all those white kids from downtown to my dorm. The taxi ride to Effing took about half an hour. It was half an hour that we put to good use to get ourselves in the mood for sex. We didn't do anything in the back seat of the taxi that would take the driver's eyes off the road. However, we were fortunate that he was a new immigrant just landed in Sydney from Piraeus, so he didn't understand any of the words of endearment we were exchanging.

While I waited by his front door, Mark paid the taxi. Once inside, I half-expected Mark to just his take off his pants, whip out his willie and take me on the floor just like the young guys. In fact, he even seemed to be stalling as if he were slightly guilty. 'Can I fix you a drink or perhaps a cuppa, Miss Poon?' I can sense when a man is about to back out, so I had to direct his mind towards subjects more intimate than bartending or putting on the teakettle. 'No, Professor Studley-Moore. You know what we both want and it's not a cuppa. Kiss me now, my darling. We've both been waiting for this all evening long.'

We kissed and I sighed, wanting more and more of this man. I parted my lips and he played his tongue along my teeth tentatively. Then, I let his tongue enter my mouth. It was so exciting after so many months of trying to get close to this man that finally, he was entering my body. It was so intimate that first French kiss. He just put his tongue in far enough so that I could taste him but then he withdrew. I followed his tongue with mine into his mouth. Allison, he tasted so delicious that I explored and penetrated his mouth but not so much as to choke him.

I was so engrossed in deep kissing that I didn't realize that Mark was unbuttoning my jacket and blouse. I jumped when I felt his warm palm on the small of my back. Then he caressed my back so gently but not so lightly as to tickle. The pleasure of Mark's hang gently massaging my back further aroused me than I thought possible. The man is incredible. He could kiss me deeply with his tongue while undressing me. Did he get that from experience or was he naturally able to pleasure ma woman two, three ways at once?

Without even realizing that we were doing it, we made our way slowly down the hall, leaving a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. I hope that I didn't let on that I had been there once before. Somehow, I lost my pants between Mark's home office and his bedroom but I managed to keep my shoes. I was so embarrassed the next day because my pantsuit was quite rumpled when I put it back on. Mark was so smooth undressing me that I'm sure he's had lots of experience at this kind of thing. It's odd, Allison. I always imagined him as being slow with women, what with that awful live-in he had. As for me, I never undressed a guy with shirt and tie until that very evening. I had an awful time to get his shirt off, until I realized that I had to unbutton his cuffs.

The bed was tidy, as if he was expecting company that evening. His bedroom was totally unlike the first time I had seen it. We stopped beside the bed and Mark embraced me even more passionately than he had at the botanical gardens. Mark then began to gently kiss my neck, sending shivers down my body and liquid trickling out of my pussy. Mark slowly kissed his way up my neck and placed a kiss on my ear. I was afraid he was going to chew on my ear like some of the clumsy boys I had encountered. But no, he sensed what I wanted and how I wanted to be loved. He planted more warm, dry kisses on my face and finally worked up the courage to kiss me on my lips.

So, it came as no surprise to me that Mark unhooked my brassiere without me realizing it, liberating my breasts. Mark brought his hand to my shoulder and my brassiere began to slide down my arms. I didn't protest and I let my brassiere fall to the floor, leaving me naked except for panties, pantyhose, oh yes, and my shoes. I didn't want to take my shoes off because Mark is so much taller than I am and I needed him to feel my breasts on his chest.

I rubbed my breasts on his chest. My boobies may be small but they're firm. The friction made my nibbles get hard and erect. I feel his chest and every chest hair, I was so sensitive. It felt so nice that I was almost disappointed when he cupped one of my little breasts in his hand. Then he gently massaged my breast and I wasn't disappointed any more. I was afraid that he wouldn't like my breasts because they're so small but he treated them as if they were giants. Finally, he rolled the nipples gently between two fingers, never squeezing or twisting my nipples. I thought I would have an orgasm prematurely, Mark was so good at arousing me.

I said, 'Let me play with your things now, Professor Studley-Moore.' I undid his belt and pulled down his zipper and let his pants fall around his ankles. I had Mark exactly where I wanted him. He wasn't going anywhere. Then I pulled down his underwear and I saw IT for the first time. My God, Allison, the man is humongous down there. I've never seen a willie that huge before. Do men get bigger as they get older?"

Allison thought to herself "I hope not. I already have enough trouble with Patrick's willie the size it is now."

Pamela held her hands apart to show her friend the length of her lover's willie. Then she put her hands one atop the other as if her hands were holding a cricket bat. If anyone were watching the two women, they probably thought the two women were discussing a proper grip on the bat.

"Allison, now it was me that was hesitating. How would that big thing ever be able to penetrate me? I'm a small woman and I'm very tight down there. It's one thing to have sex with an average size willie but something that size would surely hurt. Then I got this idea in my head that I wouldn't enjoy myself at all. Perhaps I could get away with just a blowjob. I hoped that would satisfy him and he wouldn't force me to have sex with him.

Allison, never try and reason out things while you're making love or you'll miss many pleasures in life. I got on my knees and began kissing the shaft of his willie. Not only was Mark's willie long and thick but it was hard as well. He was so hard that the skin of his willie was stretched tight and smooth. I couldn't stop myself from putting my tongue on his willie and licking the shaft from his testicles to under the glans. I licked his glans to try and make him come but Mark has superb control. I read that older men can last longer than younger men and, Allison, it's all true. I licked and licked and all that happened was that Mark's willie became stiffer and stuck out straighter. I even took his willie into my mouth and sucked on it but nothing happened other than Mark's breathing became faster and faster.

I think that all I accomplished with my attempt at a blowjob was to make Mark more excited than he was already. I think that's why, without a word, he picked me up out of my shoes, put me on my back sideways on the bed and removed my panties and pantyhose. He pulled my legs apart, so I assumed that he was going to just stick his willie into me the way the young guys do. I stiffened my body, held my breath and closed my eyes to ready myself for the inevitable pain of such a big willie jamming my tight little vagina. Instead of pain, I went through the roof from the thrill of Mark's tongue sliding up between my labia. It was, like, Mark's tongue was made to pleasure a young woman's pussy. The same sweet tongue I had tasted going in and out of my mouth was now tasting my genitals and going in and out of my labia. Oh God, Allison, I was having my pussy eaten for the first time.

I hoped I was clean for him but I didn't say that, of course. I said things like 'Oh God, that feels so good' and 'Yes, that's the way to lick my clitoris.' He said things like 'You taste so good down here.' and 'OH BABY, there's nothing like a young woman's pussy.' That reassured me that I was clean for him. Mark's tongue sliding up and down my slit and playing with my clitoris got me so aroused when he ran his tongue over my clitoris again and again that I came to a tremendous climax. I tell you Allison, I never orgasmed like that before Mark made love to me.