Asian Adventure The brilliant multicolored nightlights played on his senses as he strolled out of the noisy bar and onto the busy street. Forty long days at sea surrounded by shades of gray had finally given way to this bustling Asian port and he was now more than ready to cast his fate to the four winds for the night. Although inadvertently separated from his crewmates earlier in the evening, he was undaunted in his revels as he was somewhat of a loner by nature and had never found reason to fear anyone. A taxi swerved over and splashed to a stop in front him as the aging, partially toothless driver leaned out and mumbled something he didn't understand. Smiling, he waved the driver off and turned towards the heart of town, hypnotized by the flashing colors that danced off the puddles on the newly rain washed street and mesmerized by the sing-song conversations that swirled through the evening air. He never saw her approach. "How about dinner an' a fuck'" came the sweet voice of the girl that now stood beside him. "That's my line," he quipped in surprise as his eyes meet the opaque pools of hers. He silently noted that her smiled revealed the most even, beautiful teeth he had ever encountered; and her shiny long black hair reflected the city's aura like a halo. She has a lovely countenance for a middle-aged prostitute, he thought to himself as he began to turn from her. "C'mon sailor," she urged, "Have dinner wit' me - I'll buy!" "Is that all that's in if for me," he goaded, momentarily halted by her persistence. "I give you da ride of your life too," she offered, persistently. "Let me think on that," he returned as he strolled away, picking up his pace as the distance between the two widened. He didn't really feel like settling into her charms as the evening was still young and he thought he'd seen several other younger working girls further up the busy street standing just outside a club whose entrance was guarded by a neon dragon. As he entered the club, he was all but mugged by the girls waiting therein. Either they had never seen a sailor before, or business had really been ugly for the past several years. They began grabbing for his crotch unmercifully while cooing sucky fucky overtures that would entice only the most desperate souls. He was taken aback and stumbled backwards back onto the busy street with both hands in his pockets protecting his over ripe assets. Dazed, he turned back towards from whence he came only to realize that he was no longer sure where that could be. A slight prick of panic crept across his chest as he focused his eyes carefully in a futile effort to locate a familiar landmark. But all he saw was his rejected dinner date standing several yard in front of him with her hands on her hips and that damned disarming smile stretching across her face. She slowly approached him with her eyes fixed on his. "You lookin' for me, sailor?" He made a snap decision, figuring she could help him back to the ship when their encounter was over and reached his hand out to her. She grasped it firmly; her delicate fingers curling around his securely. Without a word, she led him across the busy street and down a dark alley to an obscure flight of wooden stairs. She felt his hesitancy, and gently coaxed him on with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. Once on the third level, she reached inside her brassiere and withdrew a single shiny key that she opened the old creaking door with. She flipped on the light, threw her coat onto an old wooden table, and winked at him as if she was quite proud of herself. "Tea, or me," she purred. "Both," he returned in a broken voice. Still somewhat overwhelmed by the events that brought him to this small one room dwelling, he surveyed its well-worn and meager contents. The bed, next to a semi-obscure widow that was opened into the drafty alleyway, had seen much better days with the thick moth-eaten comforter barely masking the telltale slump in the middle of the mattress. The bathroom next to the bed reeked of stagnant water, and bore a small cracked mirror above the cracked sink as its only decor. The kitchen, located straight across from the foot of the bed housed a small refrigerator that sounded like a blender and a counter-top gas stove barely visible under the mountain of worn tin pans. The walls were cracked and eroding plaster with brown colored streaks where the rain had found a path from the wallpapered ceiling to the barren wood floor. A small table under the only bare light bulb in the entire dwelling rounded off room's meager decor. From the small sink in the bathroom, the telltale sign of a leaking faucet resounded through the thin-walled room and out to the street below in an aggravating monotone. His host brushed the pans away from one of the burners unsympathetically, and drew some water from a small plastic pail on the floor, then hummed to herself in a melancholy oriental song as she lit the burner with matches from nowhere. Once she adjusted the small blue flame, she turned and winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom behind the termite riddled door that would only forcibly close. He sat on the bed that protested vehemently under his thin frame and reached over to a small wooden cabinet to fondle a small cracked ashtray with a picture of a WWII battleship taped on the bottom. He began to absently reflect on the night - the mayhem a mere block away, and the meager existence reflected in the four walls that surrounded him. It was strange, that someone with her looks was barely existing despite the wages she snatched from her trade. She emerged from the dripping room in a petite white teddy that barely concealed the neatly trimmed bush that he had come to invade. His arousal became evident almost immediately not only because of the "feast or famine" sexual diet the military service forced upon him, but because of the deliciously frail, beautifully tanned woman that now stood shyly before him. Everything from her shiny long hair to her delicately manicured toenails reflected unspoiled femininity. Her lithe tanned legs jutted from the hem of her nightwear in a study of contrasts between unblemished sensuality and artificial eroticism. The firm ripples of her muscles beneath her flawless skin attested to her conditioning and enduring youth. Her small pert breasts were crowned with small erect raisins. Waltzing past him gingerly, she floated into the kitchen and prepared his tea as he gawked at her assets; transfixed by her pristine beauty. Returning to his side, she handed him the small chipped china cup filled with fragrant tea and locked her eyes on his as she sat next to him and seductively crossed her legs. His eyes slowly consumed her delicacies as he nervously took his first sip of the delicious herbal tea. Within moments the tranquilizer had taken its effect on his nervous system and, with a guiding nudge, he fell over backwards onto the bed. He awoke naked with his four extremities securely tied by nylons to the bed frame and his mouth stuffed with her underwear. She was pumping his cock frantically with one hand while desperately trying to force a small L-shaped metal rod up his ass. Around the base of his glans was a small metal ring with an alligator clip and a long wire leading to an old wooden box sitting on the wooden cabinet next to the bed. Another wire led from the box to the base of the metal probe she continued to struggle with. He felt the small tip force it's way towards the base of his cock amidst her unintelligible gibberish and for the first time that night he knew fear. She continued to move the probe within him for several minutes while stroking his unlubricated aroused member feverishly until, with a gentle sigh, she rocked back and sat on her feet and winked at her captor impishly. "OK sailor," she whispered as she wiped the accumulated sweat from her disheveled hair, "It's food time!" Her body rocked forward so that her mouth could full engulfed his glans, and she began to hum to herself as her tongue moved across the now swollen organ with gentle yet expert motions that were quickly coaxing his seed from within. His mouth became the Sahara instantly as his engorged cock began to throb with his impending orgasm. Somehow, despite her delicate yet delicious manipulations, a thread of reasoning fueled with fear, kept him from ejaculation. Sensing his softening resolution, she reached over to the wooden box and slowly turned the worn black knob. She watched intently as the first building jolt of electricity raced through his prostrate and up the length of his cock, reinforcing his earlier firmness and bringing him unexpectantly to the verge. As the second jolt gradually increased its intensity, she grabbed the small ashtray and guided his cock to target the unsuspecting battleship within. Reasoning, self-control, and fear were abolished in an instant as the second jolt peaked in intensity forcing his hips skyward and his life giving essence to explode from his cock violently, knocking the unsuspecting ship out of her hand with an audible crash. She squealed and cupped the pulsing member in her hand, eagerly collecting every drop of his spent seed as quickly as he delivered. After the fourth stream bathed the palm of her hand another jolt began to build deep within his pelvis, unloading a second ferocious battery of warm cream of such volume that her hands began to overflow. She struggled to keep the life giving semen in the confines of her slippery hands as spurts of ejaculate exploded from the tip of his deep-purple shaft. With the agility of a gymnast, she swung her foot at the frayed electrical cord which led to the wooden box, and kicked the plug from the exposed wall socket. She fell backwards with a sweet sigh of relief and rested her quivering head on his thighs for a long moment of sweet bliss while still cradling his swollen member gingerly. After a short eternity, she slowly rose from the bed and walked into the kitchen carefully keeping the dripping strands of spent cum in the confines of her palms until she reached the nearest tin pan. Meticulously, she wiped the creamy substance from her hands into the pan, until her hands were dry and crusty. She then reached into the noisy refrigerated and pulled out a small carton of milk, several shelled eggs in a chipped bowl, some cooked seaweed and some brown rice combining them in the same pan as the sailors essence. She began to hum to herself as she lovingly massaged the ingredients together over a low flame, glancing up occasionally at her unsuspecting donor appreciatively. He was exhausted; in less than a minute he had drained forty days worth of accumulated cum and now his gonads throbbed, his prostrate felt shriveled to the size of a pea, and his overworked cock contracted into a small feverish glob of reddish gristle. Although his respiration was returning to normal, the throbbing headache from the strong sedative was keeping his breaths shallow and his body tense. He closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning only to see a kaleidoscope of the night's colored images framing the beautiful face of his captor. His ass hole burned and as his sweat began to trickle into his eyes, it made them burn also. Somewhere deep within, his mind gyrated wildly between his fight or flight instincts that were eventually manifested in his twitching fingers and the small pool of piss that was forming under his ass. She looked up from the now steaming pan, and saw him shift uncomfortably on the bed as the once warm pee quickly cooled. From a shelf above the stove, she grabbed several jars of seasoning, and using a pinch of each she stirred them quickly into the steaming brew before she turned down the flame and moved the pan over to cool in the sink. With a spoon that lay nearby, she took a sample, savoring it slowly before turning to him decisively and remarking; "Need more!" He felt every muscle tighten in his body as he was snapped from his revels in and instant. Sex is one thing but forced milking was quite another and he had no intention of exploring the quantitative limits of his regenerative reproductive abilities now or ever. He began to protest vehemently with grunts and confined body language to no avail as she encompassed the spongy tip of his cock with her sweet sucking lips and began to expertly coax it back to life. For the better part of a quarter hour, she used the best of her accumulated skills to nurture his cock back to its life giving potential, yet despite her best efforts, his manhood barely stirred. Finally, in a fit of futility for them both, she leaned over the edge of the creaking bed and plugged in the wooden box. The pool of piss combined with the glistening moisture on his glans formed a lethal spike for the rheostat, shorting it out immediately. The resulting surge of direct current to the unsuspecting organ triggered a genital light show that could easily have been witnessed from the street below. She screamed and ran from the room in her bare feet as he watched geysers of blood tainted sperm erupt from his glowing organ. Finally, with a flash not unlike a white sparkler on the fourth of July and the sizzle one hears when fat hits the fire, the box blew apart and over half the city went dark. He faded into tomorrow amidst the odor of burning flesh and fried rice. He was found in a small drainage ditch next to the main gate to the Naval Base early the next morning. With a blackened smudge where his once proud manhood once resided and an explanation that was suitable for a sci-fi sitcom, he was given massive doses of antibiotics and quickly flown to an obscure research hospital hardly anyone has ever heard of or about. He hasn't been heard from since. It is rumored that she still prowls the crowded brightly lit streets after dark but that she has traded the brown box for a plunger.
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