There was a replay of a football game from last night on, so another beer and I watched that, and at the end of ninety minutes, the game ended just as the washing machine clicked off. I took the clothes out, separating my panties from Ping’s, admiring the bras various designs, and their 34C size attesting to the handful Ping’s breasts were when I fondled them; I grew hard in my shorts instantly, so cut off those thoughts and hung that washing out, before putting in the whites which required soaking and some bleach, and would take a much longer time. Now I heard the shower running upstairs, and guessed Ping would also be hungry for some food, so the washing could carry on while we went out somewhere to eat.

Ping appeared in another denim skirt and t-shirt, those 34C breasts outlined very nicely; I threw on a t-shirt which needed washing anyway, foregoing my shower as I wanted to wash my hair later, as I playfully ran my hand up under the back of her skirt along her thigh: Just checking there are panties under here; good, there are! Let’s go eat. What about the washing? Ping asked, so I touched her ear to listen to the machine working, then steered her out the door to show her I had taken care of matters; locked up and we walked around the corner to a noodle restaurant. While waiting, I ordered a beer and water for Ping, and I looked across the small table at her freshly-washed hair hanging down god, I love long hair her face only with a touch of lip gloss but no other make-up to cover her flawless skin; moved my eyes down to her breasts resting on the edge of the table is that comfortable for women, I often asked myself and thought how beautiful she is. She was looking at my eyes when I moved them back to her face; Like what you see? she asked. Oh, yes, I do that girl behind you at the other table is really pretty. She scrunched her tissue and threw it at me, scowling but with a big grin quickly replacing it. Our bowls of noodles arrived, and I struggled through half of mine, full, and Ping finished my bowl after hers was empty! How do you stay so slim, Ping, and yet eat so much? Hot exercising she replied, blinking her eyes at me in a suggestive manner, no further words required to understand her meaning, and I blushed, to her great amusement. She reached across the table to stroke my hand a little, laughing and cooing Oh, poor Mr. Steve, its ok; just joking! I moved my chair back from the table, pouting as if upset, but really to distance myself from Ping and other diners while I lit a cigarette. We sat there while I slowly emptied my beer bottle, enjoying as I always did, watching life moving up and down the street, reflecting yet again why I love being here, being part of the local community, accepted as a foreigner/local who doesn’t portray himself as hi-so’, and can have food and drink and fun with local people even more than with bulging-wallet foreigners, for whom a 1 bowl of noodles, sitting on a small plastic chair here on the street, surrounded by a mayhem of humanity, would never be acceptable. It always is to me, the visitor here, and a happy temporary resident. “One more small bottle of beer, Ping, ok? Then the washing should be finished when we go home. You drink a lot of beer, Mr. Steve…. Yes, Ping, but have you ever seen me drunk, or being bad when drinking? No, she had to agree, as I never was. If I was in a melancholy mood, and drinking too much, it was only ever by myself, but even then I never drank to the point where the next one would see me fall over the edge as I often compared it to: I always stopped before then. I ordered another beer; Ping smiled, acknowledging I was decider of my own destiny, and perhaps knowing she had stepped close to the boundaries between lover and wife, and only if she was the latter could she berate me for having a beer even then I would decide for myself, as I currently, and previously did. I cheered her bottle of water with my glass to ease any fears she may have had, and I looked over her shoulder: Oh, that girl has gone! I wanted to see her legs, damn! She threw another tissue at me, relaxing visibly, and rubbing her legs against mine under the table; There are legs here she said emphatically; Oh, yes, they must have been the legs I was thinking of. We finished, paid and walked home arm-in-arm, not like an old foreigner with a young local woman, but as friends often do, close friends. I was very wary of upsetting local traditions amid fears of a foreign cultural invasion and fought stubbornly to project myself as I indeed am: respectful of my place here.

The washing was finished, so I let Ping hang out the small amount of whites, and settled on the sofa for a few minutes to see what games were on tonight, but in truth I was tired, and needed shower and sleep. First, however, I got my camera, removed the finished roll and put it with the other four to take to my film shop in the morning, plus the one of Yen at the beach which I hadn’t yet developed; then I cleaned my camera and lens. I thought of another beer, but smiling to myself, I decided against; Ping had rejoined me on the sofa, but then disappeared upstairs before returning and walking across my vision line to the TV on purpose, no doubt, as she had changed and now had wrapped Yen’s material around her body to sit beside me. Gosh women are devious the whole lot of them I had long since decided. Can I stay here tonight, Mr. Steve my washing isn’t dry yet to take home, and maybe Long could drop me and my washing at my dorm in the morning. Is that all right with you, kind man Mr. Steve, please? She stroked my arm as she pleaded. I laughed, Yes, Miss Hollywood, that’s a sensible idea. I am going to shower and wash my hair here and I threw the remote into her lap, rising and heading upstairs still laughing. When I finished, Ping was in bed, sitting propped against the pillow, naked breasts hanging on the edge of the quilt, and her arms crossed underneath; she was watching my frontal reflection as I faced the mirror, seeing her reflection as I cleaned my teeth, my bare behind exposed to her looks. How can such a small thing grow to such a monster thing’? she asked as she pointedly directed her eyes to my groin as shown in the mirror. In response to her words and the view of her, my cock jumped, and I stepped sideways away from the mirror to finish in peace. I gargled with Listerine, brushed my hair out, then turned off the light as I walked to the bed; cock bigger than small flopping around in front of me. Ping had rolled herself over on her side, facing away from me as I slid in circling my left arm under her neck and across her breasts, hand ideally placed to be filled with the mound of her right breast, a nipple ready to be played with by my fingers. There was no thought of sleeping just now, as my prick grew in length and girth, pressing hard below at her buttocks, as I stretched my right hand down to find her slit and probe fingers up and down, and in, stimulating the secretions ready for me. I played with her clit same as I was playing with her nipple, and she groaned and shook, and then her juices were copious as I rolled her fully over on to her front, and then used my right hand under her, pushing against her pussy to raise her buttocks in the air. She pulled her legs up and knelt on the bed, as I knelt between her and grabbed her hips now to place her just right, as I lined up my prick and buried it full length inside her. She collapsed flat on the bed as she screamed, pulling me free, but I lifted her and plunged straight back in, this time holding her up so she couldn’t escape, and I ploughed her tunnel like a tractor ploughing a field, her body shaking and expanding for me, and contracting against my cock as I sought to pull it out each time to dig in yet again. Ping squeaked and moaned, and groaned and screamed out as her orgasm began and peaked, and that’s when I slowed and began just enough sliding in and out to keep her at that level I hoped. I leaned down to kiss all over her back, wet with sweat now, and used my teeth to nip her here and there, especially around the sides of her breast mounds as they were flattened out; up to her neck, burrowing my face through her hair to fasten my teeth gently on the nape of her neck, like a wild male tiger might do to his mate, the one chosen to receive his mighty prize; I could not deliver the same to Ping, no little ones could result from this mating, but the feelings could perhaps be more than sexual coupling for procreation purposes, and I did my best to impart those feelings of both wildness and humaneness via the cock embedded in Ping, the hands roving and the tongue and mouth sucking and kissing. She couldn’t last, and she shoved herself back against me, causing my prick to bury at its fullest stretch, bouncing against her womb, stimulating both of us to the final expression of sexual exhaustion: a tidal wave of Ping’s juices meeting my expulsion of available ejaculations like crashing on to a rocky cliff face, creating a gigantic meeting of opposite forces. Whew! It was collapse and heavy breathing time, immobile after Ping flopped straight down to the bed, my body following on top of her, as her small suctions inside her vagina drained the last spasms from my prick. Between pants I said I thought you were here to sleep! That was my good night cuddling she laboured in reply. I shoved what was left of my cock hard in her, and she groaned. That was my good night cuddling Miss Ping. I pulled out slowly, the sucking such a beautiful feeling, and flopped to the side, able to raise the energy to kiss the side of her face, bidding sleep well, Ping’. She didn’t even answer as we both fell asleep.

In the morning I woke, not to my alarm, but to wetness on my face, and as I fully woke, realized Ping was cuddling me to her breasts with her face buried against my head, and her tears were indeed running down. Ping, what’s wrong? I asked, while my brain and my heart already knew a plausible answer. Nothing, Mr. Steve, I am just so happy lying here with you and she squeezed me tightly to her bosom. I pushed up the bed to wipe away her tears and kissed her eyes and cheeks, just as the alarm went off. I ushered Ping to the shower, said I would shower downstairs, and pulled her up off the bed with a warm embrace. I threw on a pair of shorts and went downstairs but, before showering, I went outside and gathered my panties and Ping’s clothes which didn’t need ironing; the balance for ironing Mrs. Phung, my housekeeper, could do I had done the washing so she wouldn’t mind doing a bit of ironing in exchange, I was sure. Shower, teeth, and upstairs to dress for work; Ping was toweling herself dry, and I paused to look at her: she was incredibly beautiful, even more so without clothes - and she even blushed under my stare. I put away my panties, folded up Ping’s things, then dressed as Ping came into the room and dressed herself, ready for Uni in jeans and a sober, asexual top, suitably demure and in contrast to the past 3 days outfits. I kissed her, and went downstairs to make a coffee, as I heard Long pull up outside; I called to Ping, and told her to go with Long then send him back while I had my coffee, as I had time but she needed get home and get to class. She came down, a plastic bag of clothes and whatever; she asked about her other clothes, but I said Mrs. Phung would take care of them; she hugged me, kissed my cheek and I saw her out, telling Long. Ping turned to me, something she needed to say, I will talk to Yen later today; I must tell her. Tell her what Ping? Tell her I Love You, Steve. She kissed me quickly on the cheek and jumped into the car, before I could respond. Oh my, what I feared seems to have become reality, and what I didn’t want was to cause pain. While waiting for Long to return, I phoned Yen; it was a good time, her lunch-time, but she was engaged; five minutes later, same; another five minutes and she answered. Steve, Ping has already phoned me; she said you are such a nice man, she is feeling so deeply emotional about you. Daddy, it’s ok; I knew what I was doing, and I still know. But it’s only a short time until I will be there for holidays, and until then, I do not want you lonely and alone. I talked with Ping and calmed her down; she loves you - of course, as do I, and we will work it out together. Meanwhile, she tells me you all had a great weekend! Yen, yes, we did; but my wonderful daughter, I don’t like seeing tears on Ping or anybody else I don’t want to cause pain to anyone, and certainly not you. But, god, I miss you; I miss being able to say I love you with all my heart”; Ping and her cousins yes, I love them, but not as I Love You. Do you understand me Yen? Yes, Steve, I do, and they do too; you are just a bit too nice! Daddy, I have to go to class; coming soon, I promise holidays are only two months away. I Love You. Me too my little one. Long hadn’t returned yet, so I phoned Ping. Ping, are you ok? I asked concerned. Yes, Mr. Steve. I phoned Yen and told her everything, and she was so good and now I am fine. I am in my room, but I need run for class now. Ok Ping, I just wanted to be sure; I also phoned Yen and she said the same to me. Ping, come and pick me up after work if you’re not busy and we’ll go to dinner at Phung’s, then you can come home and collect your ironing, ok? Oh, and I will have the photos for you to see! See you about 6pm, Mr. Steve. Luv you, bye”

On the way to the office, I directed Long to my film shop; while he had to drive around the block as no parking allowed in peak hour, I took my fsix films and found the manager, a friend of long standing. I told him quietly these were private and I would appreciate him developing them himself and keeping them for me. He understood and accepted my token of appreciation. Back to normal and off to the office, updating the manager on my regional office visits, then settling in to my daily functions. At the end of the day, I went downstairs and found Ping waiting, casually dressed in skirt and a blouse and looking lovely; we hopped on her bike, having told Long earlier he could go home early, and I steered her the few minutes to the photo shop. The manager met me, said they were really well developed maybe he meant the girls I thought so I paid and thanked him, joking that I hoped he hadn’t kept any copies but also seriously checking I had the negatives in the bag. He replied he had only done his job as a professional, and the only copies were the second set I had asked him to make and they were in the bag I held; I apologized for the joke as we shook hands smiling. Back on the bike, my hands resting on Ping’s upper thighs for balance and support, and we headed to Phung’s restaurant. Once there, with Phung immediately going for my beer and ice, and lemon juice for Ping, I opened the bag and began looking at the photos, denying Ping a look until I had decided they were of a good standard, and thanking my trusty old Nikon for still taking superb photos. Then I handed the first one to Ping, the set of Yen mostly at the resort where we had met Ping, but after looking through them myself and smiling at the memories. Then I checked the other folders; the first one started with Ping herself, when she had come to my house the first time, followed by the dozens taken of this past weekend with the three girls. Gosh, so many of them were so erotic I felt myself hardening in my pants, glad I was hidden under the table as I drank some beer to cool down. Ping carefully studied the ones of Yen, now and again remarking how beautiful she was; then she moved on to look at herself in the first ones of the next folder, smiling and quite rightly admiring herself. She looked up at me You take beautiful photos, Mr. Steve It’s easy when the subjects I am looking at through the camera are so beautiful, Miss Ping. Is that what I am: a subject’? No, Ping, you are a unique and beautiful young woman, and I adore you, and you can also be a subject in my photos any time you are stunning. She blushed and continued looking, just as Kim made her usual glamorous way to our table, also dressed in a short skirt and blouse; she kissed Ping on both cheeks, I declined the offer knowing Kim would probably plunge a tongue down my throat to my stomach, just to embarrass me, and she sat next to Ping, grabbing for the first photo folder and squealing when she saw Yen displayed there. Apart from the folder Ping had, which clearly I couldn’t hide, I put the others beside me on another chair they were quite a bit more private and only if Ping agreed would I show them to Kim.

Kim ooh’d and aah’d as she flicked through the ones of Yen, while Ping was now staring mesmerized at the ones of Tuan which finished the whole film which her photos had started. She said Oh Tuan is an amazing model isn’t she? Tuan is an absolute natural, cute and beautiful and she seemed to feel just like she was on a catwalk when I took those; yes, amazing I agree. Then again there is a certain Ping in some shots who also seems to be natural at posing for a camera. I was referring to a few I had taken of Ping posed around the door frame of the balcony, and they were equally stunning. She blushed, remembering, but had yet to see those as they were in the next folder on the chair to my right. Kim asked Where are they? I looked at Ping without replying, raising my eyebrow in a silent question; Ping said Its fine, Mr. Steve, I imagine Kim will enjoy them all. So I put the remaining folders on the table, but firstly I went through them again; yes, indeed Ping was delectable Dinner I said, Ping you should order some food or we will be here all night; and another beer please as I motioned for Phung to come over. Phung gave us the menu, then ran off for my beer, before returning to take the folder of Yen’s photos, while Kim stared at Tuan’s, and Ping now found those of herself, and then the weaving village and tour ones, laughing at the ones of the girls really acting for the camera. The next ones were at the lakeside restaurant, and they were erotic of Liem and Ping no wonder I had pre-cum on my pants when I had finished shooting them then the drive back to the hotel, and even the few I had shot by the room lighting when they were all so beautiful and ready for dinner had turned out soft and misty and really nice, I congratulated myself. Of course, those I had taken of the three of them in bed the next morning none of them had know about, so when Ping reached those in the folder she gasped, and both Kim and Phung leaned over to see what photo she was looking at: they also gasped, but Phung was called then, and had to run. Kim grabbed the folder and looked at one photo after another, with Ping desperately trying to get them back! Oh wow, Steve, why don’t you ever take photos of me? Kim pleaded, handing them back to Ping; Phung and I would like some nice ones too. Ok, Kim, I will, soon, promise. Ping studied them again, looking at me and I said It was just so beautiful Ping, the three of you, I had to. One day I’ll tell you the fantasy shots I dreamed of after I had finished taking these now they would have earned an oh, wow! Ping just said They are beautiful, Mr. Steve, really. She moved on to look at the ones in the park, which actually I thought were good enough to be in a fashion magazine with the right fashion clothes of course and then dinner was served. Truly, I was so aroused by re-living the photo sessions I wasn’t at all hungry for food, but I was almost of a mind, and certainly capable of ducking under the table and eating of Ping, or Kim, or both. I looked around, but there were other patrons nearby and my sense of propriety came to the fore.

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