White Wedding

So when this older Chinese dude in a suit, 'n he looked like he was in his thirties, when he asked me out, well, yeah, best laid plans of hot little Asian girls oft go awry, coz okay, when I said yes I thought it'd be a one night fuck and forget and no, I didn't have any plans beyond that.

All I was looking for was a free dinner, drinks and some quick cock to kind of satisfy that twitch for a while until that learning curve at work was over.

Didn't turn out quite like that, except I guess it wasn't really that my plans went awry. I didn't actually have any plans beyond a date and a good fuck. I mean, Mom, she'd been on my case before I left LA about kind of reforming myself and not being a little slut forever and giving up "your obsession with gweilo guys, Trixie," and finding a nice Chinese husband now that I was starting work, and I was, like, fuck that, Mom. That's only one cock for the rest of my life. I'm far too young to die.

Die of frustration.

I didn't think one guy could, like, fuck me good enough to last me for the rest of my life. I was twenty three, for god's sake. Young and, okay, not being modest here, totally fucking hot looking, and I wasn't, like, a bitch about it or anything, but I was, and I liked being fucked. Honestly, I really really liked being fucked, and the longer and harder and more often the better as far as I was concerned. Nothing I liked better at college than those college parties. Go, get picked up, get myself fucked good, head off to another party, rinse and repeat. Or just work my way through half a dozen guys at the same party. Whatever.

If a guy invited his buddy to join in, well, let's just say the guy had to be a real pig before I said no, and I didn't complain if it was a couple of his buddies either. Mostly I smiled, and now and then I said "wanna try both of you doing me at once?" Coz I did enjoy that now and then, I really did. Nothing like some guys cock up your ass and another dude pounding your pussy and a few times I'd tried blowing a third guy but that was a bit distracting if you ask me.

I mean, I'm good at multi-tasking but there are limits.

Honestly, with three guys, it felt more like performance art than a good fuck and all that coordination, it took away the fun. Two guys at once used to drive me wild though, and it was even better when there were replacements lined up and the guys played tag team, and I did enjoy being the center of attention. But that's digressing, and what I was getting at was that hey, I was twenty three, I was just starting out and doing my best to live my best life, and I had no intention of settling down and living with one cock when Larry asked me on that date. No way.

One cock a night, maybe, but only one cock? For the rest of my life? Forever?

Fucking nightmare, I'm telling you.

A woman peaks in her mid-thirties, and hey, Asian girls, we look real hot until we're in our late thirties, and not too bad after that if I say so myself. So as far as I was concerned, I had, like, another ten to fifteen years of good hard fucking ahead of me before I found that older guy with a shitload of money who could give me a couple of kids and then look after me for the rest of his life, after which he would of course conveniently drop dead and leave me rolling in it for the rest of mine after I fucked him into a terminal heart attack although hey, that was a joke.

Yeah, fuck you. It was. I'm nicer than that, really I am, so bite me.

That was the plan, more or less, and yeah, a bit vague, I know. After that? Well, heck, I could pay for all the cock I wanted if I still wanted it by then if the guy was loaded enough.

So yeah, I had my really vague plans for future marriage out there in about ten or fifteen years, where I'd do a Wendy Deng and meet my Rupert Murdoch. Dating some older Chinese dude when I was twenty three and really, just starting out on life, that wasn't in those plans, but hey, he asked. It'd been more than a couple of weeks since my last good hard fuck, I was totally cock-starved and who knew, maybe he'd be good for a one-night quickie, and life was all about taking chances, and hey, why not give Chinese cock another try.

So by then I already knew his name was Larry, coz fuck, he talked non-stop, so I sort of smiled demurely, put on that shy innocent Asian-girl look and said, "well, uh, Larry..."

"Please say yes, Trixie." He just about begged, and he had kind of puppy dog eyes and his suit, well, it was one of those frigging expensive numbers and he had that look that said he was one of those Chinese guys with a lotta money altho I usually stayed away from those guys coz they were lousy fucks, in my limited experience with them, so fuck it, why not... might be a good dinner in it as well as some cock.

I did like it that he just about begged. Maybe he was one of those guys that liked to kneel down in front of a girl and push her up against a wall and eat her out before he fucked her and that'd be a real nice way to finish the evening. I'd never been eaten out by a Chinese guy except for that one cousin who'd been a bit more daring than the others, and I kind of looked at this dude and those big puppy dog eyes, and thought about him kneeling down with that cute face buried against my pussy and those big pleading puppy dog eyes looking up at me as I rode his face, and yeah, that was kind of exciting.

"Um... well.. ooooookay," I said, radiating demurely shy hesitancy and just a little reluctance, the way a good Chinese girl should be when some guy she doesn't know asks her out on a date.

I usually did that, and the end result was usually total disbelief when they scored a home run on the first date and I liked that too. It was fun, and yeah, well, I was looking forward to some fun, coz it was pretty rare for a guy I dated not to score. I mean, he'd have to be a total loser, and this guy, well, he might be Chinese, but he didn't look like a total loser so he might not know he was gonna score, but I sure did...

Well, that first date.

Jesus, did he spend or what. Dinner? Oh my god, dinner!

I'd never been to such a frigging expensive restaurant and I'd been to a few, coz some guys thought they had to really impress you to get into your panties, and it didn't really matter to me. Five hundred buck fillet mignon sprinkled with gold flakes or a Big Mac, as long as there was tequila, they scored unless they needed a good wash. They had to use soap! 'N I wasn't too enthusiastic about tofu-munchers coz the body odor, and, okay, this is weird but their cum didn't taste that great and it's not like you have a chance to add soy sauce before you swallow is it?

Anyhow, this dude took me to this totally fucking over the top restaurant and the wine? I passed on the tequila, coz he ordered a bottle of champagne that cost five thousand frigging dollars right at the get go, and I was, like, holy fuck, who is this dude? I was gonna give him the fuck of his life for that kinda dinner, and Jesus, he could use the wine bottle on me if that's how he got his kicks, and we got back to his place and I was kinda expecting him to just go for it and I was real hot and wet and panting and ready to peel my panties off and spread wide, or kneel, or swing from the chandeliers if that was what he wanted, coz I wasn't a big believer in cockteasing, and what the fuck did he do?

He held my hand and made me a coffee and showed me around his apartment, and I was, like, shut the fuck up, dude, push me down on that huge fucking bed you just showed me and fuck me any way you want. I'll even take it up the ass hard for a dinner like that one. I was just about panting for this dude to fuck me, I'm telling you, and I didn't care how he wanted to do it as long as he did it.

He didn't.

I didn't get to take it up the ass. I didn't get to take it up anything or anywhere or anyway at all, and he didn't even try and kneel down and eat me, but I sure found out a lot about him.

Found out enough that when I got back to my little Chinatown slum apartment, I didn't go out and get myself picked up and fucked to make up for the lost time. Nope, I went diving into my still-packed boxes and found that new personal massage device, the big one with all the features that I'd bought online before I left home as a backup for those lazy Sunday afternoons, and I spent the next hour just burying my face in my pillow to muffle those screams while I got down to seriously test driving it.

Why?

Let me tell you.

Larry Zhao, he was real serious and conservative, and this was San Francisco, not LA where I'd grown up and gone to College and stuff. I didn't have any friends here, and Larry, turns out he was, like, totally straight and conservative and stuff, and fifteen years older than me as well, and on, you know, that first date, I found out he was, like, loaded. Waaaaaay loaded. Larry fucking Ellison loaded.

Well, almost. He didn't have some fucking five hundred foot yacht with gold faucets that ran the engines on bio-organic fuel made from some exotic grain or something picked by twelve year old virgins under a full moon from some fair-trade farms in, like, the altiplano of fucking Bolivia or something, but he had a fucking boat down in one of the marinas. He wanted to take me out on it, and okay, I was a bit hesitant about that one, coz I couldn't swim even though I'd had a lot of pool-side time as a teenager, and there was a lot of water out there and what if it tipped over?

I'd be fucked if that happened, wouldn't I?

"No way," he said. "It's eighty feet and the guy I bought it from told me it can go to Hawaii on one tank, it won't tip over... and hey, we can just leave it tied up at the marina and barbecue on it. We don't have to take it out. Hardly anyone does, anyhow." He shrugged and grinned. "I never have. Not even sure how to start the engines. Actually, I'm not even sure where they are. Everything runs off of shore power."

No idea what that was, but I was, like, okay. It'd be interesting. I mean, I'd seen those boats down along the waterfront in those marina things, rows and rows of them that never seemed to go anywhere. Never thought about actually going on one myself, coz water, that was for having a shower or a bath in, except for jacuzzi's, but jacuzzi's are a whole other story, but hey, boat, tied up? Staying right there? Gotta be safe, right? So why not?

He had a lot more going for him besides. I'd been to his apartment. Hadn't been fucked there, but I'd been there and, well, fuck. It was, you know, a big apartment overlooking the Bay. Big, as in, fucking enormous. His bedroom was five times the size of my Chinatown slum all by itself. Fuck, his bed was almost as big as my apartment, and the bathroom! Jesus. I'm telling you, I took one look at that bathroom and I wanted to be fucked there.

Car? He drove a Porsche and not one of the el cheapo ones either, and yeah, I was a total little ho but I knew my Porsches coz I'd been fucked in and on and bent over a few, and let me tell you, being fucked inside a Porsche is usually a job for a professional, but I'd been there and done that, and his was top of the frigging line, and I liked guys that drive Porsches, I'm telling you, coz I might be easy but I was never that cheap.

Not when I headed out the door at 5am, anyhow. Fuck me in a club or at a rave or at a party, that was another story.

Larry, he drove a Porsche 911 GT2 RS, no less, and those things? Three hundred kay, without options, I'm telling you, and sure, I knew. Guys like to talk about their toys. Hey, I might be easy but I'd studied accountancy 'n fuck, I was chinese. Genetic. I knew my numbers. And yeah, he told me all about the Porsche's options as we inched though the traffic coz Jesus, he drove me home. I wasn't used to that. I mean, nobody ever drove me home. Me, I was used to staggering out of some dude's apartment at three or four or six or whatever in the morning, or maybe midday on a weekend, and taking an Uber, or a Lyft, coz the guy was usually unconscious or worn out.

I'd clean out the guy's wallet to pay for the ride. Anything left over, let's just say I didn't mind taking a tip and anything else portable that looked like I could sell it for something, coz I did think I was good value for money, and suck it up, dude. That'll teach you to pass out or sleep on a girl and replacing lost panties and tops and bras that'd been ripped open, the costs mount up, I'm telling you.

Actually, guys pretty much paid my way through College now that I think about it coz I wasn't shy about going for the guys with enough money to show a girl a good time before she spread for them. Wasn't shy about cleaning their wallets on the way out the door, either. Why not? Wasn't like they'd see me again and, I mean, it wasn't like they paid to fuck me.

Not directly, anyhow.

So yeah, Larry actually drove me back to my Chinatown slum in his Porsche, and he held my frigging hand, which was actually rather sweet, coz mostly when a guy held my hand it was to make sure it was on his dick or to cup it round his balls or pin it to the bed along with the other one while he gave it to me real hard. Or to hold me down while his buddies fucked me, and yeah, I did like that. Three guys, that was kinda optimal.

One on either side, one doing the deed and enough breaks that they could fuck me for hours. I tell you, there's nothing like three guys with hard cocks lined up on their backs, and riding one and looking at the other two and just knowing that you're gonna slide yourself down on one of those other one's real soon. Ohhhhhh yeah! Musical dicks. I loved that game.

Anyhow, digression.

There was only one of Larry, and he just held my hand and he didn't put it anywhere and he talked, and okay, so he was a bit full of himself, but hey, I was Chinese too. I knew what he was doing as soon as he started, and I held back the giggles, let me tell you, coz I could tell he was serious, and hey, he'd spent five thousand bucks on a single bottle of wine. I was kinda keeping my options open here, coz I understood what he was doing, and okay, I was actually thinking, which wasn't something I did a lot of when it came to guys.

I mean, I knew the Chinese dude mating ritual real well. I had Chinese guy cousins. They'd gone to Stanford and places like that, including the three or four or six that'd fucked me one time or another, and they might be useless fucks and I'd taught them everything they knew, at least, when it came to fucking I had, but they all worked in the techie industry or in medicine or lawyers or whatever. So fucking smart their IQ's were up in the stratosphere. Doctors. Surgeons. Financial frigging geniuses, but they'd spent their entire lives studying like fuck.

Not studying fucking. Like me, and hey, I was as smart as them but different majors. I majored in accountancy with a minor in fuckology. I aced both of them, let me tell 'ya, and I can tell 'ya which one I was really interested in too. But you probably guessed already.

Mostly they married FOB girls imported from China who understood the culture and who wanted in, like my cousin Percival's wife, although they probably hadn't studied fucking the way I had. Although there was that little bitch, Ziyi, I swear she was a hooker or something back in China the way she put the moves to work to hook Alfred 'n she could probably give me a run for the money if she wanted to, but whatever, none of my business if cousin Alfred had the hots for her.

She looked hot and they both got what they wanted I guess, coz after they married, both of them were always frigging smiling 'n good for them if they were both happy. Anyhow, those girls, they'd put up with frigging near anything to get out of China and into the US of frigging A with a rich husband and I didn't blame them at all. Win win for both of them as far as I was concerned.

Anyhow, I was fucking Chinese. I knew the deal.

Mating call of the Chinese dude, show the girl the nest, tell the girl how loaded you were, that's what Larry was doing, and he was doing it real well, but honestly, fuck that for a joke. I mean, I was smart, I went to College. I had my degree. Accountant, right, and I graduated near top of my class coz yeah, Chinese and therefore smart as fuck, but, you know, with all the fucking discrimination against us Chinese, coz we are so fucking smart, it was hard to get into my College of choice and I knew that, coz some of my friends had already been, like, fucked over, so when I got my applications in, I said I was, you know, Hispanic, on all my applications.

Oh yeah, not a worry in the world, top score dude, coz you know, Chinese. Bottom ten percent of Chinese are fucking average for everyone else, so when I said I was Hispanic, well, fuck, up there at the top with all the adjustments and leveling and shit, dude, and I put on that accent, coz I'd dated a few Hispanic guys, 'n I dressed like an illegal hiding out from ICE, worked on my accent, hey chica, and this was California, dude, I pushed all the buttons.

When that one dude in the application office when I went for that in-erson interview asked if I was really Hispanic, and how come my name was Trixie Lee Garcia, 'n all my ID's said Trixie Lee, I just kinda looked at him and said, real cold, "dude, I self-identify as Hispanic and you're really making me feel, like, totally minoritzed, and, like, do you have an issue with my non-normative identity here or something, and if you try and fuck me over, you're going down for sexual harassment coz I'm gonna run out of here screaming my head off and telling everyone you tried to dick me."

I grinned, coz we both knew what'd happen then, 'n hey, guilty until proven innocent, dude. "Your choice, dude, but if I was you I'd stay right away from all this white patriarchal culturally oppressive rigidity over your expectations that just coz I've got little slanty eyes, I'm a chink and not Hispanic, so just go with the flow dude and sign off."

He signed off.

Coz yeah, well, this was California. He was a guy, he was a white guy, he knew he was fucked right from the start, so I was in, courses of choice, top of the list coz I was Hispanic, and totally underprivileged, and needing every sort of assistance our ever-caring bunch of fuckwits... sorry, I meant State government, altho why the fuck they couldn't fill potholes and collect garbage and clean shit of the streets I had no idea coz wasn't that what a government was supposed to do, but what the fuck, not my problem, dude, and he was kinda cute with that little hipster goatee and that earing and the tats and everything.

So I kinda sweetened the deal by dragging him off to a bar and letting him buy me a few tequilas which weren't, like, patriarchally oppressive at all after I'd slammed back a few, and he actually was quite a good fuck, 'n afterwards we went back and hey, he found these extra grants for me, and I was, like, cool dude, wanna ball me again, and fuck, he came up with another grant, and I was, like, home free.

So yeah, guess my college application process went sort of real smooth 'n I was totally fucking happy when I told Mom and Dad not to worry, it'd been real fun applying in person, and all those first year fees were covered by these grants and scholarships, and everything was paid for and cool, and I even had a grant for textbooks and transport and meals and medical insurance and extra tutoring coz, you know, underprivileged and everything, 'n my Mom was real happy coz it did make a big difference to their budget, 'n my Dad looked at me and he was gonna say something, I just knew it, but then he just snapped his mouth shut 'n looked kinda sad and shrugged.

Anyhow, I went for work-life balance at college, 'n those grant went right through the full four years. I studied and went to class during the day, and I fucked like a mink in heat at night, and at the end, I graduated fucking top in Accountancy, 'n I was held up as a total example of how Hispanic students can make superlative achievements with the right support and encouragement, and all my classmates, even the Hispanics, they snickered, and everybody else ignored those slanty eyes and went with the programming, coz fuck, can't let reality get in the way of a good story, 'n me, I didn't give a fuck coz I was through free.