The Greatest Lie Part 13

From the rhythmic undulations of Tran's silken flesh, I could tell she was feeling the same sweet torture. It was I who held the key to her prison, and she the key to mine.

I knew how to open the door: I wetted my French manicured pinkie and gently slid it into her rectum, and carefully probing her knot-tight Asian ass. She quivered as I slid through her sphincter. I pressed on towards her pussy, searching for the shrunken remnant of her prostate, hoping to massage it with my fingertip. At the same time, she pressed her finger into me just as I was pressing into her. Suddenly my blissful sensations amplified themselves enough to overwhelm my senses- she had found and palpated my own tiny prostate. Her fingertip on this half-forgotten remnant of my male past released the dammed-up reservoir of tension within me into a surge of ecstasy. The sensation was so electrifying I had to cry out. As I did, I felt Tran's body go rigid, and then quiver against mine. I heard her cries of orgasmic release just as my overwhelmed senses could take no more and I fell into a swoon.

I awoke to a sensation of movement, I felt a moment of emptiness and sorrow because Tran wasn't there. I heard a flush and a swish of water, and then she was back, gently caressing my breasts as she bent over me to kiss me. The sweet taste of my vaginal juices lingered on her lips, and as we kissed our flavors mingled exquisitely. "Yum," I said, "Who ever knew that Vietnamese, Chilean and Swedish went so well together."

"Let's tell Martha Stewart," she joked.

"But that would be insider trading," I laughed. "Tran, I think you made me cum," I said.

"I know you made me cum," she replied. "Who needs boys anymore? Too much trouble."

"You know you love that kind of trouble."

"You know me so well."

"And you, me," I said.

"I'm so glad you are my friend."

I kissed her, and said what I knew were both feeling: words I had never willingly spoken to anyone before: "I love you."