
                             CHINESE FATHER-IN-LAW

Ingrid was sure it was her cutoff Old Bags that did it. In summer she 
used to wear that whenever she goes to the corner shop. She had very 
little doubt of the effect the clothes she wore had on men. There were 
the wolf whistles. Sometimes there were just the lecherous glares she 
got. But all were unmistakable. She couldn't blame them. She was a 
woman proud of her body. All five foot eight and 120 pounds of solid 
flesh. She supposed the clothes she wore accentuated the fact that 
there was a real live wire underneath waiting for the right man to come 
along and tap it and put it to good use.

And when it finally happened, it had to be in summer. It was the day 
Old Bag, Old Foo's wife had had an accident. Old Foo was away at work. 
She had been trying to change a light bulb. There was no ladder, so she 
had just piled a chair on top of a writing table. Normally he would do 
it. But that day she had decided that she wasn't as useless as he 
thought she was and was perfectly capable doing one simple job. Fixing 
the light bulb wasn't a problem. But when she was getting down, she 
missed her footing and landed on the floor with a thud. Bones, 
especially in the lower leg of a middle-aged woman, were not built to 
withstand a fall from five feet above floor. It was too much to expect 
them to withstand the pressure especially when one had not been fully 
trained on the art of breaking falls.

When she tried to get up she found that her left leg was numb. She had 
twisted her ankle when she landed and it had instantly turned into a 
slight swell. Ingrid came rushing from her bedroom.

"What happened?" a concerned-looking Ingrid asked excitedly.

"I think I twist ankle," she said in pain.

"Don't move. Just sit right there," said Ingrid as she rushed to the 
phone and dialed the hospital. "What were you doing anyway?"

"Changing light bulb."

"Hello, can you pass me to emergency, please...Thank you..."

When finally, she was passed to the emergency section, Ingrid rattled 
off the address and informed the person on duty that there had been an 
accident. The lady on the line asked what the nature of the accident 
was and Ingrid said it was probably a broken leg. 

Saying it was a sprained ankle, she thought wouldn't get too much of 
their attention. They might not think it serious enough to send an 
ambulance, she thought.  She hasn’t had too many fond memories of Hong 
Kong since she married her Chinese husband and followed him home to 
Hong Kong. She was still struggling to pick up a Chinese phrase here 
and there. Luckily the girl who answered the phone at the hospital 
could understand English well enough.

She hadn't had much experience dealing with such emergencies, either. 
When she put the phone down, she asked Old Bag for Old Foo's number at 
his place of work. He was working as a foreman in a factory about five 
miles away. When Old Bag gave her the number she dialed. It took ages 
for anybody to answer the phone. When someone finally did, she was 
again put on hold while someone went and call Old Foo. The two minutes 
seemed to stretch into eternity before finally a male voice grunted a 
hello.

"Hello, Old Foo?"

"Yeah, who's that?"

"Ingrid."

"Ingrid?" There was a cheerfulness in his voice. "What I do for you?"

"I'm afraid Old Bag has just had a small accident."

"What?"

"I said Old Bag has just had an accident," she raised her voice 
slightly.

"Oh, is it serious?"
"She fell while changing the light bulb. I think she sprained her ankle 
or something."

There was a pause on his side and she continued. "Look, I've called the 
hospital. The ambulance should be here any minute now. Why don't you 
meet us there. Don't worry, I think it's not as serious as it looks."

"Okay." And he hung up.

She put down the phone and went to look for a blanket to cover Old 
Bag’s shivering body. It was warm outside but she seemed to be 
trembling. Her face had grown a little pale and little beads of sweat 
littered her forehead.

"Thanks," she mumbled in Chinese when Ingrid had covered her with the 
blanket.

Less than half an hour after they arrived at the hospital, Old Foo 
arrived. He looked a little out of breath when he walked in. He came up 
to where Ingrid was sitting.

"How wife?" he asked.

"I don't know. She's been inside there for quite a while now."

When a nurse came out of the emergency, they got up and approached her. 
The nurse told them Old Bag had fractured her leg. She would be kept 
for observation for a few days. When she was wheeled out of the 
emergency room, her left left was in plaster up to her thigh.

She smiled at Old Foo when he asked how she was. "Okay."

"That's good. Wife should have waited for me to come back and change 
bulb," he reprimanded her, though not too forcefully.

"Well, it okay. Not very difficult," she said as she was wheeled 
towards a ward.

The nurse explained that she'd have to stay in hospital for a few days 
for observation. The problem wasn't with the fracture itself, but she 
was all shook up after the accident and they want to be sure everything 
was all right with her, the nurse explained to them. She was put in a 
common ward together with dozens of other women, who all seemed to have 
fractured one part of their anatomy or other. Quite a number of them 
had both legs in plaster.

About fifteen minutes later, Ingrid was glad to be away from the smell 
of antiseptic again. Old Foo had offered to drop her off at home but 
she declined. She said she had some errands to run anyway and he still 
had to get back to work. She promised to look in on him later at home. 
That seemed to perk up Old Foo's ears.

She changed her mind about the errands and was back at home in less 
than hour. She set about preparing a Chinese dinner to the best of her 
ability. But Old Food was late coming home. So she took dinner alone. 
Her husband, Young Foo (his father called him Young Fool since his 
marriage to the Swedish girl a year ago) was away on company business 
in Singapore.

Old Foo must have grabbed a dinner somewhere or stop off for a drink 
with the boys, she thought. She hadn't really got on along all that 
well with Old Foo. Not after he had made a pass at her just after she 
and Young Foo came to live in Hong Kong. She and Young Foo had decided 
to have a party at their house, something he picked up while studying 
in Europe. It was New Year's eve. They had invited quite a number of 
their neighbours and some of Young Foo's friends from work.

The TV had been on as the countdown to New Year began and when the 
clock struck 12, everyone had gathered in the centre of the room 
singing Auld Lang Syne. After that the men shook hands while the ladies 
kissed each other on the cheek. Then the men kissed the ladies cheeks. 
When it was Old Foo's turn to kiss her cheek, he let his mouth linger 
for quite a while longer than usual while his hand grabbed her ass.

She had dismissed that at first. Just part of the New Year spirit. The 
drink was to blame, she told herself. He had tried to cop a feel every 
now and then but soon she got wise to it and somehow managed to get out 
of his way. He had not tried it for quite a while now. Must have given 
up on me, she told herself.




She slipped out of her clothes and changed into her dressing gown to 
watch the telly. It must have been close to 10 when he returned. She 
could hear him walking on the stairway. Then she heard the door open. 
He came in and was leaning against the closed door. His eyes were half 
closed and had the disposition of someone who had had more than a few 
drinks over the driving limit. 

"Hello..." he mumbled.

"Have you had dinner, Old Foo?" she asked, trying to sound friendly but 
casual. She didn't want to seem too friendly. 

"Yah...I have," he said.

"Well, goodnight then," she said.

"Goodnight."

He walked to the sofa before turning around and asking her to get him a 
drink of water. 

"Okay," she said, beginning to feel just a little uncomfortable in his 
presence. She felt naked standing there in front of him in her 
nightgown, with one of Young Foo's fanciful lingerie underneath. He 
dragged himself to the sofa in front of the telly and she hurried to 
the kitchen to get him a glass of water. She wished he would leave and 
took her time getting the water. When she walked out, he was lying on 
the sofa fast asleep. She shook his shoulder to wake him up. After a 
while he opened his eyes.

"Goodnight," he mumbled and turned on his side and went back to sleep, 
sighing contentedly.

Oh dear, she thought to herself. How the hell am I going to get him 
into his bedroom in that condition. He was almost as tall as her and 
must weigh close to two hundred pounds. Well, guessed I'll just let him 
sleep there. Should be save enough with him in his state.

She switched off the telly and went to her room. She returned a few 
minutes later with a blanket. She covered him and stood looking at Old 
Foo's face for a while before switching off the light and went to her 
bedroom. She pulled the blanket closely around her. Her mind began 
drifting. She thought of Young Foo. How she wished he was around, 
especially on a night like this. She began to crave his company. 
Sometimes that's what she missed most when he was away. The warmth of 
another body next to her. She quickly dismissed the thought from her 
mind and let herself drift slowly to sleep.

In the living room, Old Foo stirred. He opened his eyes wide, trying to 
adjust his vision to the darkness. His lips broke into a smile. Fooled 
you, didn't I? But he drifted off to sleep again. About two hours 
later, Old Foo woke up with a start. The mind works in mysterious ways, 
especially when one has formulated certain plans. It was as though he 
didn't want to be late for an appointment. He had somehow managed to 
set his mind to waking him up at a specific time. And to Old Foo, it 
was now time for action. For sometime he just lay there, letting the 
cobwebs clear. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes and the 
minutes into hours. That was how it felt to Old Foo, lying their on the 
sofa in the living room. Soon his mind cleared. He was a little tipsy 
earlier on. But he had had time to get over the effects of the drink. 
He was as wide awake as he'd ever be.

The clock on the telly showed that the time was almost midnight. Its 
luminous hands shone with a green hue in the darkened room. He got up 
to a sitting position, throwing the blanket off his body and looked 
towards Ingrid's room. The light was shining under her door. Maybe she 
was still awake, he thought. For a moment he had second thoughts about 
what he intended to do. But he forced the thought out of his mind. The 
unwelcome thought. He wasn't about to get cold feet, not after such an 
opportunity offered itself to him. It might never come his way again. 
So he meant to make full use of it. He has had the hots for his 
daughter-in-law ever since the newly-weds moved in with him. He walked 
towards Ingrid's room. For a moment he stood in front of the door, 
collecting his thoughts. With trembling hands he twisted the door 
handle. It turned and the door opened noiselessly. Good, she didn't 
lock the door. As though she was waiting for him to come in, he 
thought. The bedside lamp was on and it took him a few moments to let 
his eyes adjust to the light.

He stepped inside and closed the door. He looked towards the bed. In 
the dim light of the bedside lamp, he could just see her upper body, 
which was not covered by the blanket. Her face was turned away from the 
light, so he couldn't tell if her eyes were open. Her chest, loosely 
covered by her nightgown rose and fell gently. Her breathing was calm, 
so she must be sound asleep, he thought. Slowly he walked towards the 
bed. At the side of the bed, he bent down and checked her face. Her 
lips were slightly parted. He lowered his head until their faces were 
just inches apart. 
He placed a hand on the mattress beside her. His other hand gripped the 
bedrest to steady himself. Then gently he touched his lips to hers but 
just for a moment. When he drew away, she dreamily licked her own lips. 
She must be having a pleasant dream. He kissed the lips again. They 
felt warm against his own lips. She sighed gently and opened her mouth. 
But her eyes remained closed.

He enjoyed her pouted lips a moment longer before straightening and 
quickly removing his shirt and pants before freeing his erection from 
the constraints of his shorts. The semi-erect penis shook gently in the 
night air. The pieces of clothing lay in a heap on the floor at his 
feet. He sat down beside her on the bed and gently lifted the flap of 
her nightgown off her right chest. It was just as he had imagined. Her 
firm succulent breast with its sharp pointed nipple. It felt nice to 
his touch. He squeezed the breast gently before leaving it a moment to 
expose her left breast. Then he brought his face close to the two 
exposed mounds of flesh. He could smell the fragrance of her perfume as 
he inhaled the perfumed valley between her breasts. He ran his cheeks 
against the the two bulbous flesh before bringing his lips to her left 
nipple. His tongue tweaked it gently. The nipple crinkled and grew taut 
as he took it inside his mouth. Her lips let out a soft moan. He 
released the nipple and looked up at her face which was now turned 
towards the light.

The face had lost the calm look it had on earlier and her breathing 
lost its gentle rhythm. But her eyes remained tightly shut. This time 
he took her right nipple between his lips, his tongue teasing it and 
feeling it harden. The soft moans escaping her lips were now more 
regular. Old Foo was past caring. He wasn't as gentle about his 
movements anymore. He didn't care if his action would awaken her from 
her pleasantly disturbing sleep. Old Foo pulled the blanket off 
Ingrid's body. Her nightgown slipped away together with the blanket. 
She no longer had her panties on and his eyes feasted on the the mound 
between her slightly open thighs. To Old Foo, her cunt was the most 
beautiful he had ever seen. It was after all the first European cunt he 
had ever seen in his 54 years. Maybe he just thought so because of the 
lewd thoughts going through his mind. The mound was covered by a thin 
mat of blonde hair, just like her head. She must have shaved herself 
often, he thought. But what caught his attention were the lips of her 
cunt. They look pink, fat and tender. That’s quite a change from Old 
Bag’s. His face made its brief journey down to the lower part of her 
body, planting soft kisses along the way. Then he touched the lips of 
her sex. It was moist. He traced the opening with his middle finger. 
Her juices were making her cunt nice and wet for him, although she 
still hadn't realised it just yet. Then placing both thumbs on her sex 
he drew her vagina lips open and her harden clitoris peaked out 
sheepishly at him. He brought his face down, inhaling her, before his 
mouth greeted her sex. He found her clitoris and he his tongue twirled 
the distended nodule, bringing soft moans from her lips.

Then Old Foo buried his face in her sex and let his tongue take over 
the work his fingers were doing earlier, bringing more soft moans from 
her lips. Her thighs opened slightly when he pushed his tongue inside 
her and her bum gyrated gently on the mattress. She seemed to be 
murmuring something in her sleep. At times her lower body moved as 
though to escape the pleasure his tongue was bringing to her sex. But 
he wouldn't let up, pushing his tongue inside her, then moving his 
tongue faster in and out of her parted cunt.

He had to have her now before he wasted his load, he thought. When he 
lifted his head off her pussy, she groaned. In her sleep, she seemed to 
be protesting the interruption in the pleasure she was feeling down 
there. Her buttocks lifted off the bed slightly as though to follow the 
object that was making her loins tingle with sweet agony just moments 
before. He didn't want to disappoint her. Worse still, he didn't want 
to disappoint himself. He crawled on top of her.

His erection was throbbing wildly, the foreskin moving back to expose 
the bulbous knob of his penis. His cock wasn’t long, only six inches. 
But it was thick. It had satisfied many women before Ingrid. There’s no 
reason why it wouldn’t do so again. His arms stretched out in front of 
him on each side of her body, holding his upper torso off hers. Their 
body hardly touched. Only his knees made contact with the insides of 
her lower thighs, keeping her legs open to prevent her from closing 
them prematurely. Without using his hands he guided the head of his 
erection until it was resting on the mouth of her sex. He pushed 
forward gently, the gentle pressure forcing the lips of her vagina to 
open slightly to accommodate the rounded knob. Then ever so gently he 
began rotating his hips, pushing forward and into her. The wet, 
slippery walls of her cunt allowed the knob of his penis to enter her 
easily. He withdrew slightly and pushed his throbbing cock into her 
again, each entry deeper than the previous one until he was buried to 
the fullest inside her. He closed his eyes, loving the feel of her 
pussy walls enveloping his stiff rod. As he rode the sleeping figure on 
the bed, he could feel Ingrid's well-trained cunt milking his cock. He 
increased his speed slightly, but just so. The last thing he wanted was 
to shoot his load before he had a chance to fully enjoy the luscious 
body of his son's wife. Her buttocks slowly moved to the rhythm of his 
thrusts, pushing upwards to complement his penetration. Groaning 
loudly, she suddenly opened her eyes to stare up at an unfamiliar face 
above hers. Unfamiliar, that is in that position. He didn't stop what 
he was doing although he realised she was now awake.  For a while her 
body continued moving to the rhythm he was setting. Then as the cobwebs 
cleared it began to dawn upon her what he was doing. Her body went 
rigid. 

Her mouth opened in surprise but for a while no sound came out as her 
eyes opened wide with a mixture of shock and anger. All thought of 
sleep left her.

"What the hell..."

"Sh...Sh..." he said, imploring her to be quiet as he increased the 
speed of his thrusts into her.

She must look a sight, she thought. Her legs splayed wide open and her 
father-in-law giving it to her for all he's worth. In spite of her 
initial flash of anger, she couldn't deny the forbidden pleasure he 
arousing inside her. By that time he had planted his full weight on her 
body, grounding his pelvis against her mound. Her anger, however, 
didn't stop her from enjoying what he was doing. But she sure as hell 
wasn't going to let him know she was enjoying it just as much as he 
was. He seemed to realise she was trying to hide the pleasure his cock 
was giving her. And he was just as determined to win the battle. So he 
plunged deeper and deeper into her. She bit her lips trying to suppress 
her groan and turned away from the light to hide her face from him. But 
he seemed to know what was going through her mind. He wanted her 
surrender completely. Suddenly he withdrew completely from her, keeping 
his penis poised at the opening. After a few moments she turned around 
to face him, wondering what he was up to when without warning he 
plunged the stiff rod into her again hard.

"Ah.....oh God....!" she cried out as his hard rod seemed to reach the 
depth of her womanhood. And she couldn't hide her feelings anymore and 
she just let herself go. Her soft moans were beginning to get to Old 
Foo who began to show some signs of tiring, as he took himself slowly, 
but surely to his climax.

He was also bringing her closer to her height of pleasure. Her arms 
spread out like a body crucified as her fingers dug into the rumpled 
bedsheets, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"Oh, fuck me. Harder...Harder," she grasped. Her hands suddenly leaving 
the sheets to crush his body to hers, her nails digging into the flesh 
of his back as she felt the first spasm of her orgasm. That was what he 
was waiting for. Before she was through she felt him tense and this was 
followed shortly by a sudden warmness shooting up her channel. He 
slumped against her body.

He lifted his head and stared down at her face. He had a satisfied 
smirk on his face. He started laughing softly, knowing that no matter 
what she was going to say, he was certain she enjoyed the fucking he 
just gave her. Her eyes flashed at his in anger but she knew she was 
powerless. She knew she'd be better off keeping her mouth shut, rather 
than open her mouth and create a scandal. She could do without such 
media attention as surely the tabloids would have her picture on the 
front page. No thank you. She can do without that.   

In all probability, people were not going to believe her words, anyway. 
They’ll probably call her a whore. They’ll probably say she was asking 
for it and got what she deserved. Of that she was certain. All her 
neighbours would know. All of Young Foo's friends and colleagues would 
know. Who was she after all? Of course there's also the fact that she 
had enjoyed the fuck. If anything, Ingrid liked to be honest with 
herself at least. Admitting to herself that she had enjoyed it sorts of 
made the burden a little easier to bear.

Ingrid got up and went to the bathroom. She stood naked in front of the 
bathroom mirror. There were no visible changes. There were so evidence 
on her body to show that she was forced into having sex with Old Foo. 
There wasn't even a single mark on her body that pointed to the fact 
that she had just been raped. She could bet her ass on the fact that 
none of her neighbours would say they heard her screaming for help in 
the middle of the night. And she never did anyway. Just a lot of 
moaning and groaning towards the end. There were also no evidence to 
show that she had just been fucked either. If she were to walk out of 
her house fully-clothed right then, no one would have been the wiser 
about what had just happened.

Then her mind drifted to Young Foo. Well, what of him? Serves him right 
for being away most of the time. What's a wife to do when she's always 
left alone? The lonely nights. Where are you, Young Foo? Shacked up 
with a nice piece of ass, I'd bet. She dismissed the thought of her 
husband from her mind. After washing herself, she walked out of the 
bathroom and switched off the light. Then she walked towards the bed 
where Old Foo was. He hadn't put on his clothes.

"Hadn't you better put your clothes on and go back to your room?"

"What hurry?"

"Well, it's rather late." She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside 
table. It was a quarter to two in the morning.

"Who care?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"I do."

"Well, fuck."

"That's easy for you to say."

“Fuck again?” he said, more a statement than a question as he threw the 
blanket off his body. It was a repetition of the numerous men she had 
gone to bed with. They always seemed to want seconds almost immediately 
after the first time they went to bed with her. She gasped. His penis 
was in a semi-erect state. 

She could feel the blood rushing to her face, as she stared at his 
nakedness wide-eyed. He caught hold of her hand and pulled her on to 
the bed. For a moment, a very brief moment, she hesitated as she felt 
herself falling into his arms. He turned her around so that her back 
was lying against his chest and her head was resting in the crook of 
left arm. She looked up at him. Speechless. She wet her dry lips with 
her tongue. Teasing him and daring him to make his next move. He didn't 
need further invitation as he bend down and crushed his mouth against 
hers. His tongue probed her mouth open and did battle with hers. His 
reached out and grabbed a tit each hand. Both thumbs and forefinger 
caught her nipples. They hardened as she purred at the attention he was 
paying to her breasts.

When their mouths parted, he asked her, "You like fuck with Old Foo?"

She burst out laughing. She suddenly discovered that he wasn't all that 
revolting as the familiar stirrings returned to her loins. She crinkled 
her nose at him. All the irritation she had felt earlier were 
momentarily gone. He lowered his head to reacquaint his lips with hers 
again. This time she was kissing him back just as passionately. He knew 
he hadn't been wrong. This was one hot-blooded woman waiting for the 
right man to come along and turn on her switch. And that man wasn’t his 
son, Young Fool. That prick of a man he called son couldn’t hope to 
satisfy a woman such as Ingrid.

"Stand up," he commanded, helping her to her feet. She realised what he 
wanted to do and groaned inwardly in anticipation. Planting her feet on 
either side of his body, she bend down offering him a splendid back 
view of the lower part of her body.

He gripped her rounded bum and brought it to within inches of his face. 
He loved the view of her exposed cunt, the lips puffy and moist. He 
could smell her need and his tongue snaked out to taste the morsel of 
flesh before clamping his lips to the mouth of her sex.

"Oh...God..." she groaned, grounding her sex into his face.

"Like it...?" he asked as his mouth moved away from her cunt 
momentarily.

"Oh..." her buttocks shuddered, her cunt growing wetter and begging for 
attention.

"Well, what you Old Foo do now?" he teased.

She answered by pushing her cunt closer to his face. But he avoided 
touching her.

"Tell Old Foo, tell what you want..." he said.

"Oh...please..."

"Plis what?"

"Please stop teasing me..."

"Then say...say what you want Old Foo do..." he encouraged her.

"I...I...want you to make me come..."

"Mmm...?"


"Yes and I want you to lick my clit. I want you to eat my cunt. Then I 
want you to take your hard cock and fuck me and fuck me, again and 
again and again..." she said, hardly believing what she has just begged 
him to do.

He was ready to accommodate her request. His mouth went back to her sex 
once again and his tongue snaked out in search of her clitoris. Finding 
it, he tweaked the love button, bringing a moan of delight from her. He 
let himself slide further down on the bed until his head was resting on 
the pillow. Her bum followed him, not wanting to lose the delightful 
contact. He never stopped using his tongue. This was sweet revenge for 
all those times she had taunted him. Walking around in her cutoff Old 
Bags or miniskirts. Exposing her crotch whenever she walked up the 
steps when he was walking directly behind her. Making him wild with 
desire all those times. She was a cockteaser, all right. Well, she has 
found her match in Old Foo, hadn't she? And boy is he going to make her 
pay for all those pent-up desires, the frustration of not being able to 
have her all those times. The desires he was still having as bad as 
ever. Never thought I'd be doing this to you, eh? In that position, 
Ingrid found herself staring at his erection every time she opened her 
eyes. She couldn't resist taking it in her hand, stroking the hard 
cock, feeling it throb in her hand. Now it was his turn to moan aloud 
as he felt her warm, moist tongue suddenly stroking the underside of 
his cock. When she took the erection inside her mouth, he moaned again 
and buried his tongue as far as he could into her sopping cunt. All of 
a sudden she lifted herself off him and turned around. Squatting down, 
she brought her sex to the erect penis. Her hand guided its head 
between her vulva.

"Now, fuck me. Fuck me hard," she commanded, her cunt lips making 
gentle, undulating motions on his cock head.

He did as he was told, lifting his ass off the bed, he stabbed into her 
inviting cunt, burying his hardness with renewed vigour into the depths 
of her womanhood. He gripped her ass cheeks firmly in his hands, as he 
slammed into her as hard as he could again and again.

"Yes, like that. Harder! Fuck me, fuck me!" she cried as she felt 
herself reaching her climax.

But he was far from over. He pushed her off him. Getting her on all 
fours, he aimed his proud lance at the gaping, upturned hole and again 
buried himself inside her to the hilt. He increased the pace as he felt 
himself nearing his own climax.

"Move ass...that right...like that..." he shouted as she wriggled her 
ass.

As he slammed into her one final time, he felt a sudden release. That 
triggered her orgasm again, her groans muffled by the pillow as they 
both collapsed in exhaustion on the bed, sweat drenching their bodies. 
She was gasping for breath, her eyes tightly shut. He let his slowly 
deflating cock slip out of her and dropped down at her side.

The next morning when she woke up her body was aching all over after 
the night's workout with Old Foo. And she must admit it was one hell of 
a night. Not a night she was likely to forget in quite a while. Ingrid 
got up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Old Foo walked in 
and helped himself to some coffee.

"I trust you daughter-in-law had good night sleep," he said.

She laughed and nodded. 

"Old Foo go hospital to see Old Bag before go work. Any message?"

"No. No messages. I'll probably drop in and see her in the afternoon."

"Okay, I tell Old Bag that. "

Old Foo walked up to Ingrid and gave her a kiss. She responded to his 
kiss and he grabbed a handful of ass before walking off. She heard the 
front door close and knew he had left. She was sure she would see him 
again. And again. There was no stopping it now that it had started, she 
thought. That afternoon she went to see Old Bag at the hospital. Old 
Bag was in an unusually jovial mood. Her leg in a cast which had now 
become slightly discoloured by graffiti of various colours. She must 
have had a lot of visitors since yesterday, thought Ingrid.

"Old Foo's friends and other patients," she told Ingrid.



Ingrid added her own get well message at a small space on the side that 
was still available. But somehow she felt her own act was rather 
pretentious. How do you react to a woman whose husband you had just 
gone to bed with and would likely to go to bed with again. Old Bag 
thanked her for looking after Old Foo while she was temporarily 
indisposed. Ingrid was quite surprised by the statement.

"Old Foo say you help him sleep last night."

"Oh?"

"Told him not to drink too much next time. He still like a child, that 
Old Foo."

That's what you think, thought Ingrid. As far as she was concerned he 
was a conniving bastard. Likable enough in bed though. She couldn't 
deny that she had enjoyed his attention. But still a cheat. Pretending 
he was so pissed out she had to put him to bed. And the next thing 
finding him on top of her in the middle of the night. He was drunk, all 
right. But not half as drunk as she thought he was. And Ingrid felt 
kind of ridiculous being thanked for what she did last night with Old 
Foo. The old lady would probably have a stroke if she knew the truth. 
Ingrid didn't stay long. After promising to drop by again if she was 
free the next day, she left. Glad to be away from the hospital. She 
decided to go for a walk before going home. She also wanted to do her 
marketing.

Old Foo must have liked the way he was taken care of the previous 
night. Right on the dot at eight that evening he was already planted in 
front of the telly in the living room. He seemed to engrossed in a game 
show, a can of beer in hand. At least, he showed that he has other 
interests in life, thought Ingrid. He hadn't made any attempt to throw 
her on the floor and rip her clothes off yet. In fact when he first 
arrived he showed himself to be quite civil. He even shaved, had a bath 
and put on a fresh pair of pants and shirt. He even brought her a bunch 
of roses, something Young Foo hadn't done in quite a while. She 
couldn't help liking him a little better. She was kind of flattered by 
the attention he was giving her. No man had ever done that for her 
since she got married. That used to be all right. After all Young Foo 
was doing it. But since the attention from Young Foo was getting quite 
rare where flowers and candy were concerned, she realised she had 
missed it. And tonight the bunch of roses was as romantic a gesture as 
she had ever gotten from any man.

Ingrid had cooked dinner for Old Foo as well. It was one of the rare 
occassions she cooked rice for dinner. She also had a pot of chicken 
curry, which Old Foo seemed to consume with gusto. At least Old Foo 
does like her cooking. Not just her pussy, which he had gone through 
such great pains to get, she thought. She had stopped at the butcher's 
shop on the way back from the hospital in the afternoon. She also 
picked up some steaks from the butcher shop but changed her mind about 
cooking them that night. Old Foo didn't seemed to mind as he went for 
second helpings of her rice and chicken curry. Quite a change from Old 
Bag's bland cooking, surely. Ingrid beamed with pleasure watching him 
enjoying the food that she had gone to great pains to cook. Kind of 
reminded her of Young Foo when they were first married. He used to like 
her cooking too, among other things. 

She walked into her bedroom to change. A little later she reappeared. 
Tonight she was going to give the old man a treat. Ingrid had undressed 
and returned in a white, lacy underwear that would have rattled a 
celibate to the very foundation of his religious beliefs. And all the 
more so when you're a hot-blooded man like Old Foo. His hand was 
visibly trembling when he brought the beer to his lips and drained its 
content. She had switched off the lights when she came out of her 
bedroom. The light in the room only came from the telly. He didn't turn 
around when she approached the couch he was sitting on. Then she turned 
on the table lamp before walking slowly in her bare feet until she was 
standing between him and the telly. The game show was over ages ago. A 
sitcom was on, but he wasn't about to complain about the distraction.

"Like it?" she asked, standing with one hand on her hip and the other 
bent upwards touching her shoulder. A pose normally assumed by a model 
parading a new line of summer wear.

"Like it?" he answered, hardly believing his eyes. "Love it..." Could 
this be the same woman he seduced last night? She had taken on a new 
appearance and attitude. No longer the timid housewife and daughter-in-
law he was used to. This was a woman, hot-blooded desirable piece of 
flesh. Want her? He had never wanted any woman in his life as he wanted 
her now.

Ingrid saw the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes. It was the same 
look Young Foo had in eyes when she first wore the nightgown in front 
of him. The gown was held up by a thin strap of cloth. The laces on the 
front covered part of her breasts, hiding her nipples. The back was cut 
low down on her back. If she had worn it to the beach, it would have 
passed as a swimsuit. It ended at the bottom of her crotch, held 
together by the kind of buttons that come easily apart at the slightest 
pull. Despite the dim light, her pubic hair was visible through the 
flimsy material. She gave him one of those turn-on smiles, as if he 
needed to be turned on further.

"You're just saying that..." she said, teasing him.

"You beautiful..." he answered, breathing heavily.

"Show me. Show me how much you like me," she said as she walked closer 
to him. The light from the telly gave a sort of glow to the inverted-V 
formed by the junction of her parted legs.

He was getting out of his clothes in record time. But his eyes never 
left her, watching her pushed the strap of the nightgown off one 
shoulder and slid it down her arm, exposing one of her breasts. Then 
she took the exposed nipple in her fingers, teasing it until it 
hardened. After giving similar treatment to her other nipple, she 
exposed both her breasts to his lecherous eyes. So you dirty old man, 
two can play the game, as you can see, she told herself. Her body 
swayed as she continued teasing him, still staying out of his reach. 
Some character on the sitcom was getting himself into an awkward 
situation which drew laughter from the audience. On the couch Old Foo 
was stroking his erection, watching Ingrid putting on as fabulous a 
striptease show as he had ever seen. A private show only for Old Foo. 
The fact that he would soon be fucking the striper in just a little 
while heightened the pleasure he was giving himself. Her hand reached 
down and pulled crotch of the underwear apart. She pulled up the flap 
in front and exposed her crotch to him. Her finger teased the lips of 
her sex apart, making them wet with her own desire. Old Foo was beside 
himself on the couch. Several times he had to slow down his own 
strokes, afraid he would shoot his load in his own hands. When he 
couldn't stand it any longer, he got up and caught her arm, pulling her 
towards him. Now she was standing just inches from him. She was still 
stroking herself. Her index finger and forefinger parting the moist 
lips to expose her excited clitoris. It was an invitation for him to 
bury his face in her sex and he needed no prodding on her part to get 
into the thick of action. His head was spinning as he grabbed her and 
buried his tongue inside her. She groaned as she felt his mouth making 
its welcomed intrusion of her sex. But it lasted only a moment. His 
face left her pussy and he was pulling her on top of him. He guided 
himself inside her with a haste he had not felt in a very long time. 

She didn't need him to tell her what to do as she slid up and down on 
his erection. He was fucking her with wild abandon. Both were oblivious 
to everything else. Behind her, the sitcom was over. But for them, the 
night was far from over. Occasionally he would pause, letting his erect 
penis rest deep inside Ingrid's cunt. Ingrid constricted her cunt 
muscles to massage his the cock, which was thrilling her with such 
forbidden pleasure. She had known many men in her life, but none of her 
encounters were like this. Perhaps it was the thought of being fucked 
by someone other than her husband. Her first man after she had married 
Young Foo. After remaining faithful to Young Foo this past one year. 
And to fuck her father-in-law at that.

She could taste her own sexual juices on his lips as her tongue slid 
into his mouth and she ground her sex harder against his pelvis. His 
pubic hairs teasing her clitoris increased her pleasure as he continued 
pumping into her relentlessly. Finally they collapsed on the floor with 
exhaustion.

When they both recovered, Old Foo took her into her bedroom and made 
love to her again. He was unbelievable. That he was able to have an 
erection again soon after was a testament to his prowess and a 
compliment to her own ability to arouse such feelings in him. It was as 
though he was making up for lost time. Either that or he was on some 
sort of ginseng, she thought. She had heard about those, the 
aphrodisiac used by emperors of old in the east to satisfy their hordes 
of concubines.
 
Old Foo hardly allowed her to sleep, doing things to her body with his 
hands and mouth when his cock needed the rest.  

The next day proved to be less easy where sex between them was 
concerned. Old Foo had taken the day off. He had gone to the hospital 
early to pick up Old Bag who was allowed to return home. So things were 
back to normal. Sort of. Ingrid helped with Old Bag's housework. Not 
that there was that much to do. Only the vacuuming and bring her the 
meals for which Old Bag was eternally grateful. It was Old Bag’s duty 
to cook her husband’s meals when she was well. 

But when she was in the kitchen cooking Old Bag's lunch earlier, Old 
Foo had come into the kitchen under the pretext of helping her. Old Foo 
must like living his life dangerously, she thought. Old Bag was in the 
bedroom. But they had left the door open, so she could hear their 
conversation in the kitchen and join in the exchange if she wanted to. 
But most of the time she just remained quiet, except the few times she 
would thank Ingrid for all her help. If only she knew the truth, 
thought Ingrid. She couldn't help feeling guilty, but the guilt 
heightened her forbidden pleasure.

"So Ingrid, when Young Foo coming home?" Old Foo asked. His hand had 
found its way beneath her skirt, stroking her smooth thighs.

"Probably tomorrow or the day after," she answered, trying not to 
laugh. He was tickling her, letting his finger trace the outline of her 
panties. And in a whispered voice to him, "Old Foo, you stop that."

"What?" he replied softly. Then raising his voice, he said, "Sure nice 
having Young Foo home again."

"Yeah."

"Well, don't you tire him out." His fingers found their way under the 
hem of her panties and encountered a moist opening.

Again in a hushed tone, "Look, if you keep doing that I'm never going 
to get lunch ready."

"I hope I no get in your way in kitchen," he said, pushing a finger 
into her warm, moist channel.

"No, that's quite all right, Old Foo," she answered. "Oh...Damn you," 
she whispered followed by a soft ooh as his other his middle finger 
tweaked her clitoris.

"Old Foo, stop getting in way of Ingrid. And bring me water." Old Bag 
called from the bedroom.

"Yah," he answered, giving Ingrid a few more strokes for good measure 
before removing his hand from beneath her skirt. He licked her juices 
from his fingers before wiping his hand on the seat of his pants. She 
gave him a dirty look and he broke into a lascivious grin before 
getting his wife a glass of water. Ingrid was both glad and 
disappointed at the interruption to their foreplay in the kitchen. The 
presence of his mother-in-law in the other room added to the 
excitement.

"I come back," he whispered as he carried the glass of water towards 
the bedroom.

"Don't you dare," she whispered.

It didn't continue. Before he returned, she had joined him in the 
bedroom with Old Bag's lunch.

"Well, hoped you like it," she said to Old Bag.

"I will. Just leave on table. I eat later."

"Okay," Ingrid said.

"Nice girl," Old Bag said to her husband after Ingrid walked out.

“Last time you no like,” he said in Chinese.

“Last time she not helpful. Useless around house.”

“But she learn now?”

“Yah, she learn now,” said Old Bag.

"Now, husband say eat,” he brought the food to her. He helped her up 
into a sitting position by propping an extra pillow behind her back. 
Then he took the food tray and placed it in her lap.

After his wife had finished her lunch and taken her medication, he had 
carried the tray back to the kitchen. Then he had his own lunch which 
Ingrid had left on the dining table. After he finished, he returned to 
the bedroom. Old Bag was asleep, so he decided to go over to Ingrid’s 
room. He knocked gently.

When Ingrid opened the door, he said, "Just came to thank Ingrid..."

"Really?" she said as he stepped inside.

He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately on the mouth. "I 
want fuck you," he said as they drew apart. Taking her hand, he led her 
into the bedroom. They didn't even bothered to close the bedroom door. 
The fact that his wife could hear them if she wakes up heightened their 
excitement even more. She slipped out of her panties and pulled up her 
skirt while he just unzipped his pants and freed his erection. 

She leaned against the doorway and he just pressed up against her. He 
slipped in easily. There wasn't any foreplay. Neither of them needed 
it. Her pussy was still moist from the fingering he gave her when she 
was preparing lunch. 

When Young Foo returned two days later, things really returned to 
normal. She was back being an ordinary housewife. Ingrid the mistress 
took a vacation. Still she must admit, it wasn't the same anymore. The 
way she felt towards Young Foo, especially. She still love him of 
course. But her affection now was divided between the two men. And she 
knew, even if she didn't want it to happen anymore, she would continue 
to fuck Old Foo whenever Young Foo was away. She had tasted the 
sweetness of the forbidden fruit and it wasn't easy to stop anymore. 
She tried to appear as dutiful a wife to Young Foo as possible. Cooking 
his meals. Washing his clothes. And even in the bedroom. They had sex a 
few times during his two weeks at home. She enjoyed it just as she had 
always enjoyed sex with him. But when he left again on the third week, 
she felt a sense of relief. She no longer had to pretend.

Old Foo had behaved when his son was around. But after Young Foo goes 
outstation again, he continued his visits to Ingrid’s room once again. 
In fact, now he hardly stopped off at the pub first on his way back. He 
was impatient to get home. And Ingrid was always there, the dutiful 
daughter-in-law, waiting and ever willing. Sometimes, if he couldn't 
make it, he'd arrive after midnight when Old Bag was already asleep. No 
problem with Old Bag in that department. After returning from the 
hospital, she had started going on sleeping pills. Too hard and 
uncomfortable to sleep without the help of the pills, she had 
complained. And she would normally be out for a solid six hours. That 
just suited him fine. He didn't want to have to explain why he was not 
in their bed after midnight anyway.

The fact that his wife had never suspected he was having a wild fling 
with their daughter-in-law was a source of wonder to him. But the 
credit here went to both him and Ingrid. They had been quite discreet 
about their relationship. He didn't even brag about it to the boys at 
work, not ever wanting the word to come back to his wife. Moreover they 
were never seen in public together. All their activities had been 
confined to the apartment whenever Young Foo was away.

When his wife was fully recovered, it got a little harder for them to 
meet. Except the times she takes a sleeping pill and was knocked out 
early. It wasn't love, he kept telling himself. But he definitely was 
attracted to Ingrid as any man in his right frame of mind would be. But 
it wasn't love. Love was what he used to feel for his wife. What he was 
probably still feeling. The affection of a marriage which was three 
decades old. The affection which came with being together all that 
time. But he realised that what he was having with Ingrid was different 
from what he occasionally had with the women he had gone to bed with. 
Those were merely lust and nothing else. With Ingrid it was slightly 
different. But he couldn't call it love. He refused to call it 
anything. Just a relationship based on sex. But not just lust. 
Certainly not just plain, old fucking, he told himself constantly.

Old Foo would also like to take the credit for introducing his 25-year-
old daughter-in-law to kinky side of sex. Sometimes she marveled at the 
fact that she was able to go along with it. Not that she was prudish 
about sex, of course. Still she was surprised that she was able to do 
what she did with Old Foo, both in bed and out of it. There was one 
time they went to the movies together. This was after Old Bag had fully 
recovered from the fall. She told Old Bag she was going shopping. Old 
Bag was only too glad to see her go out. She deserved to go shopping 
after being cooped up in the house looking after her mother-in-law. Old 
Foo wasn't back yet, of course.

"Probably go drinking," she remarked to Ingrid. It was only a quarter 
to seven.

In fact Old Foo had called her from work and asked her to meet him for 
a drink. The pub was located on the other side of town, so she had to 
take a bus there. Neither of them wanted to risk being seen by mutual 
acquaintances. They might just put two and two together. Old Foo's 
friends would probably just laugh it off after reminding themselves to 
congratulate him later for landing himself with a delectable piece of 
ass. But her friends, more importantly, Young Foo's friends might just 
blabber about it to the wrong people and sooner or later Young Foo 
would get to know about it. Despite everything, she want to save Young 
Foo that embarrassment with his friends.

After getting off the bus, it took Ingrid quite a while to locate the 
pub. If not for the fact that Old Foo spotted her first she would have 
missed the place. The sign above the entrance had a few letters 
missing. Fortunately, Old Foo had taken a table by the glass window. 
When he saw her walking past, he just knocked on the glass to get her 
attention. She flashed him a smile and walked in. A few men turned 
around to appraise her. She obviously met with their approval, walking 
by in a miniskirt which almost showed her crotch. They don’t get that 
many White women in the pub, so she certainly drew some attention to 
herself.
A few of course couldn't understand what a lovely woman like her was 
doing with somebody like Old Foo. The same few couldn't help feeling 
envious. Nothing better than to have her on their arms. They couldn't 
help seeing in her eyes the promise of a night of endless pleasure. And 
in that area they weren't all that far off target. Old Foo had gotten 
up so that she could take the seat by the window. His eyes dropped to 
her legs as slipped into the seat. She was wearing black stockings 
which showed off her lovely legs to the fullest. The stockings did to 
her legs what the miniskirt was doing to her ass. As she sat down her 
legs opened, flashing him her pink panties.

"Stop looking up my legs," she said, crossing her legs but couldn't 
help smiling at his reaction.

"You got nice legs," he answered making a face. She couldn't help but 
giggled softly, taking pride in his compliment.

"Well, what you have?" Old Foo asked when the waitress walked over to 
their table.

"Vodka lime," she answered. It had been her favourite drink. 

"One more beer and vodka lime," Old Foo told the waitress.

She walked away to return soon after with their drinks. By that time 
Ingrid and Old Foo were deep in conversation.

"Yum seng!" he said.

"Cheers!" she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Meanwhile under the table he put a hand in her lap. For a moment it 
startled her and she looked around to see if any of the drinkers were 
looking their way. But after the initial look they gave her when she 
walked in, they were polite enough to go back to their drinks and 
conversations. Sometimes the conversations were punctuated by bursts of 
laughter.

So Ingrid felt quite safe in the pub. Old Foo's hand began to wander 
and pretty soon it found its way underneath her crossed leg. She could 
feel the hair on the back of his hand tickling her leg and felt goose 
pimples growing on her skin. Then he put his hand on her knee to 
uncross her legs. She looked up at him. When their eyes met, there was 
the unmistakable look of lust in them. She opened her legs slightly 
when she felt his hand on her thighs again. He didn't wait for another 
invitation and let his fingers do the walking until they met with the 
soft skin of her thighs above her stockings and on to the nylon of her 
flimsy panties. Her lips parted slightly and there was a dreamy look in 
her eyes as his middle finger rubbed the front of her crotch. When his 
fingers found the lips of her pussy, he traced the opening through her 
sheer nylon panties, bringing a soft sigh from her mouth. She could 
feel herself growing wet.   

She drained her drink and in a hoarse whisper said, "Let's get the hell 
out of here before I cum."

"Okay," he said, finishing his beer. After he paid the bill, they 
walked out together, she hanging on to his arm.

They continued walking because he said the cinema was just a stone's 
throw from the pub. She didn't know exactly which cinema he was taking 
her to but she had a pretty good idea that it wasn't going to be a 
decent movie. True enough when they reached a cinema showing x-rated 
movies he stopped. He bought the tickets and soon Ingrid found herself 
in a corner seat at the back of the hall. The show had already started 
and the action was fast and furious on the screen. She settled 
comfortably into her seat and crossed her legs and leaned her body 
against Old Foo's. The warmth of his body sent a shiver of expectancy 
through her. Ingrid could sense an air of expectancy in the crowd. She 
could also feel Old Foo's hand crawling up her legs. Ingrid gasped. The 
actor on the screen has a massive erection. A circumcised prick about 
eight inches long in a semi erect state. Ingrid was sure it would look 
more impressive in a fully erect state. Ingrid could feel her sex 
getting wet. Ingrid doesn't know whether it was the film that was 
getting her all excited or Old Foo's naughty fingers that are doing it 
to her. And she doesn't care one bit. Old Foo had pushed aside her 
panties and his fingers were making her cunt throb with desire. His 
middle finger was moving slowing in and out of her vagina, bringing her 
closer to her peak. Ingrid was slowly becoming oblivious to the movie 
screen. All her attention was focused on the sweet sensation between 
her legs. Old Foo had pushed two fat fingers inside her and he was 
increasing the tempo. She let out a soft moan as she felt her cunt 
getting wetter and she was moments away from her orgasm. Her buttocks 
was moving excitedly on the seat. Her soft moans were drowned out by 
the moans and groans in the movie.


"I'm cumming," she whispered in Old Foo's ear as she pressed her face 
into his neck to suppressed a loud groan as she came all over his 
fingers. It seemed like forever before Ingrid opened her eyes and 
brought her attention to the screen. By that time Old Foo had removed 
his fingers from her cunt.

"Let's go home. I need a fuck badly," Ingrid whispered.

Old Foo nodded and they got up together. Somehow Ingrid was no longer 
interested in the movie. She just couldn't wait to get home, throw off 
all her clothes and beg Old Foo to fuck her silly. But Old Foo had a 
better idea.

"We go somewhere..." he suggested after they were outside the cinema.

"Where?"

He took her hand and led her up the street. After they had turned a few 
blocks they came to a deserted park. Ingrid was glad for the 
suggestion. They picked a secluded bench behind a tree. Old Foo pulled 
her to him and kissed her mouth. She kissed him back, feeling the 
strong itch returning to her groin. Old Foo wasn't in the mood for 
foreplay. He lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties. His fingers 
found her vagina lips. They were wet to his touch.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she said. She quickly unzipped his pants 
and pulled out his already erect cock. 

He turned her around and told her to bend down for him. She did as she 
was told. Then her hands opened herself up for him. He guided himself 
inside her easily although he couldn't see what he was doing in the 
dark. Then he fucked her, fast and furious. And just for a moment, the 
picture of a massive black cock plunging in and out of a wet pink pussy 
flashed through Ingrid's mind. After they left the park, Ingrid took 
the taxi home alone because they didn't want to be seen getting out of 
a taxi together. Old Foo walked back to the pub for a drink. Ingrid let 
her thought wander. Her face was still glowing and her cunt wet and 
pulsing from Old Foo's assault in the park. Ingrid went straight to her 
room. She apologised to Old Bag for being late. Old Bag dismissed her 
apologies. That somehow made Ingrid feel a little guilty. The woman 
wasn't such a bad sort. She just didn't know how to take care of her 
husband. Or maybe she has stopped taking care of him sexually, 
especially after the accident. But even that thought didn't make her 
feel much better. 

She went to her room and lay in the long bath. Just as Ingrid was 
getting ready for bed, there was a knock on her bedroom door. She had a 
pretty good idea who it was. She walked to the door and opened it. Old 
Foo was standing there with a lascivious look on his face.

"Wanna fuck some more?" he asked.

She laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Can't a girl have a rest anymore?" she said as she closed the door and 
locked it. 

"Yes, girl can rest after nice fuck," he replied.

He pulled her to him and kissed her and she felt herself growing warm. 
She was no longer starved of attention and sex since Old Foo's wife had 
an accident. In fact Old Foo had been giving her enough attention, 
especially when Young Foo was away. But she couldn't help getting 
excited every time Old Foo touched her despite the fact that they had 
been making it countless times. He had a certain animal magnetism about 
him which she found kind of erotic.

He sucked her soft pink lips, bringing a soft moan from her. Then he 
pushed his tongue inside her mouth while his hands caressed the swell 
of her buttocks. He kneaded the fleshy mounds as he ground the hardness 
of his groin against her soft belly. When he let go of her, she walked 
into the bed. He followed her, the swaying of her buttocks sending lewd 
messages to his already swollen cock. She slipped out of her clothes 
and stood completely naked in front of him. Her nipples had grown taut 
and begged his attention. He pulled off his clothes in record time. His 
erection jutted out like a flagpole in front of him. She smiled and 
licked her lips in anticipation as he walked towards her. The room was 
dimly lighted by her bedside lamp. Again he pulled her to him and she 
slipped easily into his arms, enjoying his warm embrace. His stiff 
prick felt warm against the softness of her belly. Then he pushed her 
to a sitting position on the bed so that when she looked down her eyes 
were looking directly at the swollen cock.


She smiled at him knowingly and bend her head to pay homage to his 
manhood. His prick jerked involuntarily as her soft, sensuous mouth 
closed around its head. She sucked him gently and he sighed with 
exquisite pleasure. She released his cock from her mouth and went to 
work on him with her tongue. She licked the underside of the stiff rod, 
trailing the swollen vein to the base of his prick. She took his cock 
in her hand, lifted it slightly to gain access to his balls, nibbling 
one then the other. He groaned, feeling he would go out of his mind if 
she didn't stop. Ingrid returned her attention to his cock and a sigh 
of relief escaped his lips as again she took the swollen head in her 
warm mouth. When he thought he couldn't stand it any longer he pushed 
her into a lying position. She opened her legs wide as he buried his 
face in her sex. He licked the wet, slippery lips before plunging his 
tongue deeply inside her. In and out, in and out his tongue went to 
work on her. His saliva mixing with her juices, making her blonde hair-
lined pussy lips glisten in the shimmering light. His tongue gave her 
clitoris several playful flicks before he crawled on top of her. Ingrid 
guided the stiff prick to her wet opening and he entered her 
gratefully. He withdrew and plunged into her again, deeper and with 
greater force.

"Argh..." she cried out, feeling the tip of his rod touching the  
innermost area of her vagina while his coarse pubic hair tickled her 
clitoris. "Yes...like that...oh...it's so good, baby...I'm gonna 
cum...I'm gonna cum..."

Her encouragement spurred him on and he fucked her with greater frenzy. 
She pulled up her legs and opened them wider and he stabbed his cock 
into her again with greater fury, knowing she was nearing her peak. 
Then he felt her body grow tense and she let out a loud groan and he 
couldn't hold himself back any longer, spraying the walls of her cunt 
with his warm cum. They pulled away from each other and he looked at 
her with a satisfied smile on his face.

When he was fully dressed, Old Foo gave her a goodnight kiss and let 
himself out. He walked tiredly back to his room where his wife was 
sleeping, while Ingrid pulled the blanket over herself, drifting slowly 
into a dreamless sleep.

After that night they never went to other sex movies together again. 
And they have never done it in the park again either. It was to be her 
only time. But they have done it elsewhere often enough. A few times 
they did it during his lunch break. Those were times when Young Foo was 
around and Old Foo couldn't visit her at her apartment during the 
night.

Ingrid would check into a cheap hotel near where Old Foo was working. 
She would bring some food to the hotel. Most of the time she would 
bring home-made sandwiches. He would arrive just five minutes after his 
break started. They would have a quick bite and washed the food down 
with beer. Old Foo preferred beer of course, while Ingrid had never 
been too fond of the drink. Lunch was usually followed by a quick romp 
on the bed. Those times he would dispense with any foreplay. Ingrid was 
almost always ready even without the foreplay. The whole idea of being 
in a hotel room with a man, any man, was enough to make her wet and 
ready. She needed very little foreplay to get her into the mood for 
sex. It sort of came automatically. The most he had to do was put his 
finger on her sex and she would be ready almost immediately.

But it was after watching one of the sex movies one day that he had 
suggested something that she found unappealing at first. But somehow 
she didn't want to disappoint him, so she had reluctantly agreed. He 
left her bedroom and went into the kitchen. When he returned he was 
carrying bottle of honey. But she refused to do it on the bed, saying 
she didn't want the bed to be full of ants later on. So they had gone 
into the bathroom. She was reluctant to go first but Old Foo didn't 
mind. In fact he liked the idea of going first. He told her to sit on 
the edge of the bath tub. She did as she was told then leaned backwards 
and supported herself on the opposite edge. He lifted her bum off the 
bath tub and adjusted her sitting.

"Now put your feet on the edge and lift your bum slightly," he 
commanded her as he got down between her legs.

She couldn't help herself but feel a little self-conscious although he 
had seen her that way before. Somehow she now felt defenseless and 
exposed to him like she never did before. He scooped some honey and 
applied it slowly to her pubic mound, making sure that he didn't miss 
any part of her sex. Then he began licking the honey on her sex, 
working first on the outer edges and slowly bringing his tongue to the 
swollen lips.

"Oooh...that's nice," Ingrid said as she felt herself responding 
delightfully to his tongue and her juices began flowing freely.

He licked her clean and apply fresh honey and went to work on her 
clitoris. It had grown hard and he took the distended nodule between 
his lips, sucking on it and making her move uncontrollably on the edge 
of the bath tub.

Despite the pleasure she was having Ingrid was glad when he stood up 
because sitting in that position was hurting her arms and back.

"Now you do me," he said, handing her the jar of honey.

She sat up and dipped her finger inside the honey and applied it to his 
erection. His throbbing manhood shone and she thought it improved its 
look, somehow making it appear more menacing. Then she licked away the 
honey on her fingers before taking him in her mouth. Her tongue and 
lips began removing the sweet-tasting fluid from his cock and she 
swallowed it. Her earlier reservation had disappeared. In fact she 
found that he tasted better coated with honey than those other times 
she sucked him off.

Then she lifted her head and stood up, "Now fuck me, please."

She put her arms around his neck and encircled his waist with her legs. 
He had no problems supporting her. She pushed against him and he guided 
his hard cock into her. He penetrated and held her close around the 
waist as she began to rock in his embrace, her pubis lifting away and 
slamming against his, joined together by his prick. Without putting her 
down he walked into the bedroom and deposited her on the bed and took 
control. She lay back contentedly and closed her eyes as he increased 
the speed of his thrusts, his cock burrowing into her warm, wet hole. 
Suddenly she arched her aback as she came and he plunged into her one 
last time before the old Chinaman’s body slumped on top of his Swedish 
daughter-in-law in exhaustion.

