White Wedding

So yeah, back to Larry. I knew Chinese guys. I knew the deal. Been there, suffered through it, yawned. Gone out and got fucked by a big white cock afterwards. I knew the ritual, and Larry was going through all the steps. So by the time we got back to my slum, I knew all about him, and usually I just yawned and looked around for some gweilo guy with a big cock who looked like he wanted to score with some hot little china doll, but not this time, coz that mating ritual really was designed to hook a Chinese girl.

Soon as Larry started, I'd sort of switched off.

Never worked on me before, but Jesus, I was Chinese and it musta been in my genes or something coz the way Larry laid it out, I was frigging switched back on and hooked by the time he got me back to my slum. Hooked, coz when he held out that bait, oh man, it was just too much to resist. Larry, he was CEO or some fancy title like that for some start-up that wasn't a start-up anymore with this huge salary and expense account and options and he still owned most of the shares and stuff and they were going public and he was the majority shareholder, and I figured, well, jeez, Trixie, you gotta be real stupid to pass on an opportunity to date a guy like this and holy shit, he'd fallen for the sweet, demure, polite, Chinese-American-girl crap that I always pulled when I didn't know someone too well.

Fucking unbelievable, but there it was.

Guys usually met me in a club, and I'd be half hammered from the get go coz I usually did half a dozen slammers that the nearest guy bought me when I walked in the door, and there was never any shortage of buyers, 'n if guys didn't offer, I just walked up and asked, and let's just say that I dressed like a "fuck-me" girl, and what you saw was what you got, 'n the guys that bought me drinks weren't usually too unhappy about the whole experience. Larry, he'd met me at work, or at least, in the same building, dressed for success in my demure little business-woman suit with my laptop in its carry-bag and the power jacket and the hair tied up in a knot and my so-serious glasses and next to no makeup and I sure hadn't been hitting on him for that coffee.

Yep, I was dressed as Miss Junior Accountant, the one who wants to work her way up the food chain, coz I'd only been there a couple of weeks, and I hadn't figured out yet who's bones I needed to jump to leapfrog the promotion queue. I mean, I had my clubbing clothes and everything in a couple of suitcases but I was figuring things out before I dived in and started testing out these San Francisco guys, and well, as Larry dropped me off, he asked me out again and I was, like,

"Uh..."

"Please, Trixie. I really like you, this's been fun, it's so hard to meet a nice girl like you here, and, uh, I'd love to take you out again..."

"Okay, sure." I kind of smiled and dimpled and blushed that shy pink that a good Chinese girl does when she knows she's doing something a little, you know, daring.... like going out on a second date so soon, and Jesus, I wasn't tossing a fish like Larry back without thinking about it seriously, was I. I mean, I wasn't stupid. Keep your options open.

That, and I'd caught a quick glimpse of one of his bank statements when he was in his kitchen making coffee and Jesus, we're talking, like, seven zeros and those were off to the left of that decimal point too, and we're talking a couple of other digits to the left of those zeros and that was just some cash account. A personal one, not business, coz I kinda checked the details pretty thoroughly after I got home coz somehow that statement had slipped into my handbag.

Fuck knows how that happened.

Yeah, well, I wasn't stupid. Enough said, right.

"Tomorrow night?" he asked, and in the end, we'd sort of settled on a couple of nights away coz for Larry, I wasn't going to be easy. Not now. Woulda been back when we walked through his apartment door but you gotta adjust your plans to the circumstances and hey, the mating ritual? He wasn't doing the pickup and one-night stand thing, he was making all the ritual mating noises, and, well, my Mom was Chinese. She wasn't stupid.

She'd laid it down for me, I knew the story.

I knew I had to marry sometime, and I couldn't date gweilo guys with yellow fever forever. There's a time in every girl's life when she has to think seriously beyond the next few cocks, and, well, I hadn't planned to do that for quite a while but hey, circumstances. Opportunities like Larry didn't just walk up begging a girl to marry them every day, and Larry, he was frigging loaded and he was making all the noises. He was Chinese too, workaholic. There'd be opportunities for cock on the side, and that was when I realized that frigging fuckadoodle, I was thinking seriously about this after one frigging date.

Fuck!

Worse, I knew he was totally serious. I mean, that ritual? He wouldn't have laid it out the way he did if he was after a quick fuck, and yeah, even Chinese guys know there are Chinese girls that like a quick fuck. Chinese girls, well, like me, but I was in San Francisco now, not LA. No-one here knew me and besides, most of the guys that'd fucked me back in LA were gweilos, they were one-night pickups and mostly they never even knew my fucking name, coz half the time I just made something up or I was too smashed to remember myself, and it didn't matter when most of the conversation went along the lines of "yes... yes... harder... harder..." and Jesus, I better delete that spreadsheet that I kind of tracked them on, coz yeah, I had this thing for numbers.

Accountant, right.

So yeah, I got home and instead of changing and diving out to get picked up and fucked real good and hard, like I totally badly needed, I dived onto my Laptop and opened up my little tracker and just thought about it. I mean, memories, memories, so many memories. I'd started back at High School with those three guys, and when I looked at that spreadsheet, well, I was missing a lotta names, coz who the fuck remembered them all, more or less coz yeah, well, there were a few total blanks there.

Especially after a couple of dozen tequila slammers, but I had the count and I'd tracked them all, give or take a few. Last half year of High School and four of College, and there'd been a few wild nights at College, let me tell you. A few at High School too when I went first found out how good big hard white cock was, but College, well...

That frat party where I'd gone off to that room and partied it up with seventeen guys and two bottles of tequila, that'd been so wild, 'n those guys, they'd been total keeners when we got started on the bodyshots, and I just about cried when I thought that fuck, my College days were over and if I went down this route with Larry, I'd never get to party like that again. That spreadsheet kept a running total. I mean, I was pretty anal about numbers, and that final count, right now it was sitting on eighteen hundred and twelve.

That was the guys I'd fucked, not the number of times although I'd more or less recorded that as well, separate column, along with positions, duration, climaxes I'd had, number of times the guys had shot off, the ones I could remember anyhow coz sometimes when you're on a roll it's hard to keep track, and I'd been thinking to maybe, you know, try and hit two thousand cocks by the end of the year, which wasn't gonna be hard.

Only a couple of hundred more 'n I had six months. Twenty odd weeks, 'n that was only ten guys a week. That wasn't even a challenge, and that's guys, not fucks, coz hey, you go back with a guy and couple of his buddies and a couple more of their friends join in and you're halfway to the week's target just like that, one evening, and that's only a good start to a weekend. It's not the weekend. So I'd been kinda totally looking forward to that, but this dude, Larry. Well.

Anyhow, I sat there looking and thinking jeez, what to do, Trixie?

I mean, short term gratification was all good and fine, and yeah, I did so love being fucked. But you know what? Every girl has to settle down sometime. I knew that, and if you're going to, why not make sure it's with a guy who can support you in the manner to which you wish to become accustomed. I mean, I liked the idea of kids and everything, but the idea and the reality. Yikes.

Babies? Stretch the fuck out of a girl, and yeah, one or two of my old friends already had rugrats, 'n I'd seen. Totally destroyed their figures, 'n even if you worked out, never came back the way it had been, and that was sad. With Larry, well, I could pop the kids, caesarean of course, coz I didn't want to get all stretched and everything. No way. Maybe even use a host mother, coz a guy like Larry could afford that and hey, fuck, that made a lotta sense and jeez, Larry could afford a host mother or two. Maybe get all the kids done as a batch delivery. That'd be so cool.

A nanny or three, a maid, a cook even, really, as many as I liked coz hey, easy to hire some old Chinese ladies that could do all the stuff and they'd be real grateful and all, and they'd know who they worked for, I'd make sure of that, so I could have a bit of fun on the side. Yeah, I could have my cake and eat it. If I kind of went with the flow with Larry here, and he did seem interested, there wasn't a better time coz I had no track record in San Francisco.

No-one here knew who the fuck I was.

Complete makeover?

I could do that, but was it worth it? Larry and his millions, versus a few hundred cocks in my future. Jesus, what a dilemma. But in the end I thought to myself, well, you gotta do what you gotta do, Trixie. The gods have thrown this dude at you, and its fate that we met. Fate that he's drawn to you, and hey, I'd had my fair share of cocks. Besides, might not work out, so what the heck, I could always get back out there if it didn't, so I closed my memories down, dived into my boxes and found that frigging personal massage device and spent the next hour on my bed using it real good while I remembered a couple of really good times.

After work the next day, I went shopping. Nordstrom and a couple of other places, buying the sort of clothes I'd never have been seen dead in before. Right down to the lingerie. Jeez, I hadn't worn anything but g-string panties since High School and that first fifty bucks from Uncle Vincent. It was kind of weird.

Yeah, well, meet the new Trixie Lee, coz I'd dropped the Garcia as soon as I graduated.

Demure, sweet, innocent, studious. The sort of lovely Chinese girl every Chinese Mom and Dad would be happy to see their son bring home. I laid it on so thick it was molasses and Larry just loved it. He took me out on dates, and oh boy, he was so serious. Couldn't get enough of me. Even took me to some of his company things and out to business dinners where I sat next to him and looked sweet and demure and smiled and talked to the wives and girlfriends while the guys talked business, and actually, it was kinda cool being, you know, Larry's girlfriend, Miss Junior Accountant.

I could fucking do it, and I did, and Larry just lapped it up, and I kinda resisted the urge to jump the bones of some of those geek dudes, coz yeah, well, if Larry hadn't of been there, there'd been one or two that kind of had me panting and I wasn't getting any...

My personal massage device got worked real hard though, I'm telling you, because I wasn't taking any chances with Larry, not now that I'd decided. He'd waved the bait. As far as he could see I was responding exactly the way he'd hoped, and he was following through with the rest of the mating ritual, step by meticulous frigging step. Me, I was responding exactly the way a good Chinese girl should, coz I understood the frigging dance, and I'd decided real quick that no, I wasn't throwing this one back.

I understood a few more things too, coz hey, Chinese. Smart as, dude.

Larry was a frigging genius, and he was loaded, and no, he wasn't Larry Ellison or Bill Gates or that Zuckerberg retard (and hey, that Chinese girl that married him, she was one smart lady. When they divorced, she was gonna get billions) and I wasn't shooting that high, but my Larry, he was worth a few hundred million now and going up every week coz I did track the stock market and I was kind of thinking, yeah, do wives get options and stuff? I was gonna want some kind of really tight pre-nup and everything, but all that aside, let's just say that socially, well, he was a totally Chinese guy.

He was doing the mating ritual, but he was running on instinct and unthinking cultural assumptions and learned behavior. He was doing what he'd been brought up to do, and he didn't know it. Not consciously. Me, I knew what he was doing.

I understood the behavioral patterns, the what, the why, and I totally understood all those preconceptions and cultural imprinting patterns he was operating under. I played to them shamelessly, and after a few weeks of dating Larry, I'd made up my mind. We were both gonna get what we wanted, and Trixie Lee, the hot little gweilo-fucking ho who just loved big hard white cock, she was gone completely.

Never existed.

I deleted that spreadsheet. Reluctantly, coz I was an accountant and I did love numbers and tracking things, and I even had, like, performance stats. You wanna know how many times a blond-haired blue eyed six foot tall gweilo who works out can get it up in a night after ten double shots of single malt, versus an overweight Hispanic knocking back tequila, yeah, I had the stats, I really did. I'd really wanted to hit two thousand guys this year. I'd had my heart set on that, and throwing those personal goals away did hurt a little.

I actually shed tears just before I hit delete and did the reformat thing, coz there were a few photos and movie clips and things I was making sure to get rid of too and some of those were, like, totally historical and I'd really wanted to keep them to, you know, show my little girls when they turned into big girls and started partying like their Mom. Okay, so maybe that was kindof optimistic of me and everything, but it hurt to hit delete, it really did, so I saved them on a USB drive and went out and got a safe deposit box.

Couldn't do anything about those clips some asshole had put up on that xHamster site and there were a couple of others on Pornhub, and yeah, that'd been a wild night in that dude's dorm room with his buddy, but I didn't think anyone would recognize me coz while a few of those clips had my face, it was with a cock in my mouth or cum spurting all over it and yeah, hard to recognize me. Wouldn't have known myself except that one of the guys had sent the first link to my phone while a couple of his buddies were doing me and none of them had known my real name anyhow, but I did think I looked good all the same.

That old Trixie Lee, she was replaced by the new Trixie Lee, the sweetly attractive, demure, serious and hard-working girlfriend of Larry Zhao, that up and coming young entrepreneur and multi-millionaire software genius. Oh yeah, I tossed all my fuck-me clothes too, threw them in half a dozen garbage bags, dropped them off at Saint Vincent de Paul, coz hey, hookers down on their luck needed clothes too, although they'd have to be a pretty small hooker to wear my stuff coz, you know, petite.

Still, this was San Francisco, bound to be some Asian hookers or some underage white ho's.

Replaced my wardrobe completely, although yeah, I still looked fucking hot, but it was demurely fucking hot, and I sure looked the part on Larry's arm 'n fuck, I even stopped getting totally hammered on tequila slammers when I went out, coz if I did, who knew what the fuck would happen?

Rhetorical question. I had a pretty good fucking idea.

So. No tequila slammers for this girl.

Smiling at Larry's side, saying all the right stuff, dressing the right way, reading up on Larry's tax returns and banking information, coz he was careless about leaving stuff like that lying around on his laptop or in his apartment, and after I read all of that financial shit, I smiled happily, coz that made it real easy to totally fall in love with a guy like Larry and tread the straight and fucking narrow, and yeah, after seeing those financial statements, I was madly in love.

Of course I was.

Have to be stupid not to be.

The one thing I wasn't was stupid.

I did have to buy another vibrator though.

That old one? It burnt out from total overuse.

As for Larry, well, he was wildly, passionately, madly in love with me. He told me so, a couple of months after we started dating, and we were making out in his apartment, and I was, like, resisting a little because I didn't want to be too easy for a guy like Larry. Not like back in LA where it was, like, "Hi. I'm XYZ, what's your name?" "Hi, I'm your china doll. Let's go fuck." "Here?" "Why the fuck not. Do it for me, big boy."

Nope, wasn't going there with Larry.

Larry Zhao was gonna get the girl of his dreams.

So he was kissing me and I was being shy about it, coz, well, kissing after only a month or two of dating was pretty wild stuff for a good Chinese girl, and I was being really good. It was actually kinda hard, coz I'd never actually been good, ever, except as in, good fuck, but hey, Chinese, smart. I could do it. I knew I could! I just watched all those saccharine movies to kind of get an idea, and I made a few new friends at work and kind of copied them. Boring as fuck, but I just thought of those zeroes and yeah, totally motivated, dude.

Mom's advice was, like, high in my mind. Like, right up there at #1. Get that ring on your finger and make sure he pops the question before he pops anything else, including your bra strap, and Jesus, you have no idea how hard that was coz I was fucking dying of frustration. Well, Larry was gonna have to wait for pretty much anything beyond kissing until Larry popped the question for sure, but I did give him teasers now and then, 'n I almost lost it once or twice, but I just gritted my teeth and told myself, stick with the plan, Trixie. You can do this, girl. Think of the money.

But oh fuck, the teasers. The "oh my god oh my god no, Larry. No, we shouldn't.... we shouldn't... oh my god, Larry... oh Larry... oh Larry...." As his hand worked its way around to cup one of my boobs. Through my dress. Not under it. He got to get a taste of those firm little boobs that were just waiting for him, but he sure wasn't getting more. When I got back to my little slum, well, fuck, I had to get a couple of spare personal massage devices. Never knew those things could overheat.

Then, like, a month or so after that, more or less the same excitement as he worked his hand under my skirt to touch me through my panties, and that evening, Larry got a little taste of what could be his, all wet and excited and soaking through my panties, but only through my panties and I was so ashamed and embarrassed and just totally humiliated after that. He spent the next week apologizing and buying me real expensive stuff before he got to kiss me again, and me, I smiled, coz it was working real well.

Larry wanted me so bad he'd do anything for me, and me, against all my expectations, I was actually loving this and I was even looking forward to moving in with him. Well, I was really looking forward to that, coz when I did, I was gonna get cock and oh boy, I needed cock. Real bad. But I really really liked his apartment, and especially me in it, 'n I kept telling myself be patient, Trixie. Options. Pre-nup. Loads and loads of money, and I already had a credit card off of Larry's, and that told me he was totally fucking serious coz Chinese guys liked to impress but they didn't throw money at a girl they weren't fucking unless they were totally fucking serious.

Me, lying on that black leather couch in his apartment, and that leather was from some exclusive fucking furniture maker, the leather was made from Kobe bullhide from Japan, fed exclusively on Guinness imported from Dublin and massaged every day by blind Korean masseuses who used only their left big toe or some shit like that. Maybe it was the masseuses that were fed on that Guinness, I didn't really listen coz it sounded like crap to me but hey, Larry got off on it and I made all the "fuck I'm soooo impressed noises" that a girl should make when she's shooting to hook the big one.