Visitor discovers Chinese mother and her daughter, sex stories, Fang-Hua (“fragrant flower”) and I met when I first came to China. She was a friend of a friend who offered to teach me Mandarin. I think we both knew by the second lesson that we were going to be lovers, because at the third lesson, we didn’t speak any Mandarin or English, only the language of touch. It happened so hard and fast that I was already thinking about marrying her and moving to China. But she kept some distance, and I learned that she was a teacher, and teachers can lose their jobs over sexual liaisons. Then I learned she had a daughter. Hua, my pet name for her, would only say that she was not married and had been very young when she had Ling (“bell”). To keep our relationship secret from prying eyes, we never said anything about it over the phone, in e-mails, or in texting. My phone texts were always the same, “I need some help pronouncing some new words. When can you come over?”
We had been seeing each other for about a month, always at my place. But that meant we couldn’t spend the night together because she had to go home to her daughter. She finally arranged a weekend where her daughter spent the night at a friend’s. It was so perfect and wonderful that she decided we should take the next step, that I should meet her daughter. Hua took us to a kind of expo park and we had a great time.
Ling is very nice and well behaved for a teenage girl. I was surprised to learn she is 18 years old. She looks younger, and acts less mature than the 18-year-old girls in America. But being in China, an only child, and in a fatherless family might have something to do with that. She was very quiet at first, but her English was much better than her mom’s, so she ended up doing most of the talking and all of the translating. By the end of the evening, she was all smiles, comfortable enough to hint about wanting a present. You should have seen her eyes twinkle when I bought her a big stuffed lion.
On the way home, Hua had a long talk with Ling. I could tell it was serious. When we got to their apartment, I learned why.
“We’d like you to stay the night,” Ling said.
I smiled at Hua, then nodded. Ling squealed with delight.
Hua made a simple traditional dinner. I told Ling she could ask me any questions she wanted. After an hour of questions about America, her mother stopped her, saying it was time for homework. Ling explained how she was just starting at a local college and really needed her mom to help her. They worked together at Ling’s desk in the corner. Seeing them together like that, they were more like sisters. I wondered if Hua ever thought about Ling leaving the nest.
While they did homework, I looked around the apartment. There wasn’t much to see. The apartment was tiny, like most apartments in China, a bathroom, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a multipurpose room. The bed was big, a double bed, which made me smile. It looked just as hard and flat as mine. The kitchen was barely big enough for one person, as was the bathroom. The toilet and shower were close together. Made it easier for me to clean the toilet. The layout was similar to my apartment, so I was used to the compact design. The multipurpose room had a couch, a table with three chairs, two of them being used at Ling’s desk. There were no closets, just two stand-alone cabinets, one in the bedroom, one in the multipurpose room. The balcony was overflowing with stuff, mostly broken things that should be thrown out.
Ling came over.
“Can you help?”
It was her English lesson. I sat with Ling while Hua cleaned the kitchen. I don’t know if it was being in the privacy of the apartment, or just the time getting to know her, but Ling scrunched her chair close to mine and leaned against me as I started to drill her on her words. She snuggled closer, pulled my arm up around her shoulder for me to hold her. I gave her a hug, almost a kiss on the top of the head, but sensed something and looked towards the kitchen door. There was Hua, watching. I smiled, nervous because I knew that my hug and wanting to give a kiss were not completely innocent. Ling was a good-looking, endearing Asian girl. I was getting more than a little thrill being so close to her. But instead of being pissed, Hua smiled back, nodded, reassuring me that it was all right. So I did kiss her head, looked back up at Hua, who smiled again, nodded, then went back into the kitchen.
Ling responded to my kiss by putting her hand on my leg. It surprised me, scared me, too, uncertain if she was being innocent. Unfortunately, my third leg took it as an invitation and was engorging on the attention. When the bend in my penis became painful, I squirmed in my seat, hoping to get some relief. Ling reacted to my leg movement by giving me a little squeeze. Now I had to do something, and right away. I excused myself to the bathroom where I reached inside my pants and adjusted my erection to a less painful position. I turned to open the bathroom door and there, looking in, were Ling and Hua!
My apartment was the same way. The bathroom door has a window that runs from top to bottom. I always thought it was strange. The glass in my bathroom was frosted, so that only a shadow was visible. I had often watched the outline of Hua’s figure, before we stopped closing the door. But Hua’s bathroom glass was clear, transparent. I could see them clearly. And they had been watching me.
I came out of the bathroom, put on an exaggerated look of hurt, shrugged my shoulders. What else could I do? Hua was chuckling, her hand over her mouth. She whispered something to her daughter. Ling’s eyes grew big as her face flushed bright red, then she ran to her corner desk, sitting with her back to us.
I shrugged, again, offering my apologies, knowing that Hua didn’t understand, but hoping that Ling would translate. Ling mumbled something without turning around. Hua looked worried, then smiled, came over and gave me a hug, a little kiss, that turned into a big kiss. We were still kissing as I adjusted myself again, this time less worried if anybody saw me. But I did turn us and barely opened my eyes in the direction of Ling, even as Hua’s tongue was doing that thing that got me so hot. Ling was watching. Not just watching, she was studying us. She was imitating her mother’s stance, moving her hands as if practicing on some imaginary boyfriend.
Meanwhile, Hua was turning up the heat, doing things that told me she wanted to make love. I watched as Ling lift her knee, moved it to the side, spread herself open, imitating her mother, who was now literally humping me. Hua began to moan into my mouth. She was really going to do this, right here, right now. I closed my eyes and tried to forget about Ling. My hand went down to her knee, lifted her leg, slid back her skirt to her panties, then slipped my hand inside. Hua moaned loudly. She was gone, lost in her own world. I peeked a look at Ling.
Apparently, it had become too much, and without any complaints or comments, she had seated herself at her desk to study. I’m always amazed how the Chinese can put themselves into their own private space, even when surrounded by others. Now I saw just how early this was mastered.
Hua was ready to fuck, and told me so, with our chosen “penetration” word.
“Now,” she whispered, chewing on my ear, sinking her tongue as deep as she could get it.
I pulled at her, hoping to get her into the bedroom to close the door, but she was already undoing my belt. Her hand reached in and grabbed my cock, pulled it free. She shifted her position, hopped up on to my hips, pressed her crotch over my cock, rubbing me with her panties. I glanced over at Ling. She still had her back to us. But she was rocking strangely now. Then I saw her exposed leg, spread wide and to the side, her dress up above her thigh. Her arm was curved in and down. She was masturbating!
My body gave an involuntary shudder. The idea of her masturbating while I was fucking her mom overwhelmed my sense of propriety. With a quick turn and large step, I swiveled us both into the bedroom. At the same time my fingers grabbed under the edge of her panties and yanked. I felt the material give way, causing Hua to moan loudly.
“Now!” she cried out.
I leaned us over the bed, letting her fall on her back. She bounced, her legs flopping open. I leaned back up, grabbed my cock, leaned forward, and plunged inside her. She groaned with the spasm, immediately starting to come. I pulled out, then crashed back in. She cried out, scratched at my back, wrapped my shirt into her fingers and pulled me down tight. She grabbed harder with each contraction, both my shirt, and by cock. I didn’t move as she bounced and jerked on the bed with her quick-onset orgasm.
Remembering Ling, I peered over my shoulder. She had turned to watch us. But her eyes were closed now, and both bare legs were spread, exposing her panty covered crotch. A hand was inside her underwear and I could see the slight flicker of finger movement underneath. Suddenly I felt my own orgasm coming, I jammed my cock in and out a couple times and then let out a loud groan as I ejaculated, then another, growling, snarling grunt.
Everything got very quiet. I opened my eyes, my head still turned towards Ling. Her eyes were wide open. I glanced down at her crotch. When she saw me staring, she quickly pulled her hand out and turned away. Hua had become strangely still, too. I looked at her with a question on my face. Had I done something wrong? Of course I had. She tried to smile, not a very reassuring smile, nodded towards Ling, and moved to get up. She made a stop in the bathroom, then went over to sit by Ling, her arm around her daughter, consoling her. I sheepishly closed the bedroom door, to give them some privacy. And I needed some time to understand what had just happened.
I don’t know much about Chinese culture, nothing about Chinese family life or what goes on behind the doors of a Chinese home. I had heard all kinds of rumors, but nothing I thought I could believe. I had seen how whole extended families live in tiny homes in rural China. I had never seen more than one bed, and I’m sure the whole family got sex education on a regular basis. But did mothers really sleep with sons to prepare them for college, like I’d read about Japan? And did girls get pregnant at such early ages because a father, uncle, or grandfather had gotten friendly? Did children sleep in the same bed as their parents until age 35, when they moved in to a home of their own? If you got married before you had a home, were your parents there every time you made love? Did parents have certain visitation rights to compensate for housing sons- and daughters-in-laws?
All this was pouring through my brain when Hua came into the bedroom with Ling. I had to quickly do up my belt since they gave no warning, coming in without a knock, a custom I was still not accustomed to when Hua visited me in my own bathroom. Neither of them seemed to care or be concerned that I was undressed. I smiled, why should they care, Hua knows me inside out, and Ling just watched me fuck her mother.