I Rescued the Vietnamese Woman Before Reaching My Building

I was heading home after an unusually quiet night shift. In the changing room, I had taken off my uniform polo shirt and put on a tank top so tight that my small, firm breasts bounced freely beneath the fabric. I was still wearing my tactical trousers with their emblems and had my backpack slung over one shoulder, my baton sticking out at the side.

Yes, I’m a security guard. At almost six feet tall, with dark hair, a mane falling just past my shoulders, and a body trained at the gym, most of the drunks I run into at this hour prefer not to take their chances with me.

I parked the car a block from my building, because at four in the morning there isn’t a space any closer. I was walking calmly down the empty street, enjoying the warmth of the early morning, when I saw what was happening in the entrance of the building next to mine.

She was a petite Asian woman, her back pressed against the cold metal of the door. Short black dress, barely more than a few straps over her shoulders, straight jet-black hair falling to her waist. He was a short, bald, potbellied man with his shirt unbuttoned and his voice slurred with alcohol.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll call the police,” he kept repeating, jabbing a finger in her face. “I paid, goddammit.”

I quickened my pace and stopped behind him. The moment he turned his head and saw the uniform, the baton, and my height, he took off down the street, staggering as he ran. I didn’t even have to open my mouth.

“Are you all right?” I asked, approaching slowly so I wouldn’t frighten her any further.

She nodded without saying anything, then suddenly collapsed against my shoulder. Well, because of the difference in our heights, more like against the top of my breasts. Her hair surrounded me with a sweet perfume, something between jasmine and coconut, raising gooseflesh on the back of my neck. I put an arm around her and caressed the almost bare back revealed by her dress, her warm, incredibly soft skin beneath my fingers.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s over now.”

“I was so scared,” she murmured in a pronounced, sensual accent.

“You’re with me. I live right next door. Do you want to come upstairs for a while? I’ll make you something hot and you can calm down.”

She lifted her face and looked at me with enormous dark eyes wet with tears. She smiled faintly, and I felt a stab in my stomach that had nothing to do with protecting anyone.

“Yes, please.”

In the elevator, she didn’t move a single inch away from me. Her breasts, much larger than her height suggested, pressed into my belly. Her bare thigh brushed mine through the slit in her dress, and I don’t know whether she was doing it deliberately or not, but I was beginning to sweat for reasons that had nothing to do with the uniform.

I opened the door and she stepped inside, looking around curiously. She stopped in front of the framed female nude I have in the living room and smiled.

“You have good taste.”

“Sit down, come on. Shall I make you some linden tea?”

She sat on the sofa with her legs crossed, her dress riding dangerously high up her thighs. I dropped into the armchair opposite her and bent down to untie my boots. Before I reached the second lace, she was already kneeling at my feet.

“Let me.”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. Really, I can…”

There was no stopping her. She pulled off my boots and sweaty socks, then began massaging the soles of my feet with small, practiced fingers that made me moan involuntarily. Feet are my weak spot, and she seemed to realize it right away. She put my big toe in her mouth and sucked it slowly without ever looking away from me.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“My name is Linh,” she whispered. “And you?”

“Marta.”

Linh smiled and continued kissing the top of my foot. I pieced her story together while her hands climbed up my calves. She was Vietnamese, brought over with fake papers by a network that kept her working in apartments and hotels. The drunk in the street was a client from the hotel on the corner who had tried to pay half. No one watched her closely as long as she met her weekly quota.

“Why don’t you run away?”

“Where would I go? I don’t have any papers.” She shrugged. “Besides, tonight I don’t regret working.”

She looked up at me with a smile that left no room for doubt.

“You don’t have to do anything. I didn’t help you so I could fuck you,” I said, though my voice came out hoarse.

“I know. But I like women. Only women. And you”—she ran a finger along the inside of my thigh, over my trousers—“turn me on like crazy.”

I stood abruptly and unclipped my tactical belt. She caught it in midair and set it on the chair, then slowly pulled my trousers down, dragging them over my thighs. I was left standing in a thong and tank top in front of a stranger who was licking her lips as if I had just been served up on a platter. I bent down, took her chin between two fingers, and kissed her.

Linh kissed as if she had been thinking about it all day. She caught my lower lip between her teeth, pushed her tongue deep inside me, played with mine, drew it out of my mouth, and sucked it as if it were a nipple. Saliva slipped from the corners of our mouths, and neither of us bothered to wipe it away. Her hand slid beneath my top and grabbed one of my breasts, her thumb passing over my nipple until it hardened like a stone.

“Stand up,” I asked her. “I want to see all of you.”

She rose slowly. With one movement, she undid a hidden clasp over her shoulder, and her dress fell to her waist. Her breasts were much larger than they had appeared, firm, with dark nipples pointing straight at me. One roll of her hips and the dress fell to her feet. She was wearing nothing but an almost transparent black lace thong.

I asked her to turn around and enjoyed the sight of her small, pert ass, her perfect back, and her mane sliding down to the cleft of her buttocks.

“Come here.”

She sat astride me on the sofa. I grabbed her ass with both hands and felt her rubbing herself against my belly. Her wet pussy soaked through her thong and smeared my skin. We kissed again, dirtier this time, while I tore her thong off in one yank. One finger wandered of its own accord to her ass, barely brushing her anus, and she moaned against my ear.

“I’m dirty. Let me shower first.”

“I barely care,” I said, laughing. “But come on, I’m sweaty from work too.”

***

I pushed her into the shower tray and turned on the hot water. I had removed the bathtub years ago and made the entire floor into a shower tray, and that early morning I was endlessly grateful for the decision. I helped her wash her hair, my breasts pressed against the back of her neck and my naked belly against her wet ass. She rubbed herself backward, seeking me out, and when I finished rinsing her hair, she turned around with a smile I hadn’t seen before.

“Lie down.”

“What?”

“You’ll see. Lie down on the floor.”

I lay down on the tiles warmed by the hot water. Linh poured shower gel over her chest and belly, then lowered herself onto me. She began sliding over me with her hands, back and forth, her breasts gliding over mine, her lubricated belly over my pussy, her wet hair sweeping across my face. The piercing in her navel scratched my pubic mound every time she moved upward. It was the full-body Thai massage I had heard about but never tried, and it was about to make me come without her touching me with a single finger.

“This is… fuck…”

“It’s only the beginning.”

She held one of my breasts and put it in her mouth. She licked the salt of the sweat still on me, bit my nipple until I arched my back, then moved to the other breast and repeated it. She went down my belly, ran her tongue over my navel, and kept going lower. She spread my legs with her hands and looked up at me before planting a deep kiss on my pussy.

Her tongue parted my lips with calculated slowness. She licked me slowly from bottom to top, circled my clit twice, and went back down. She pushed two fingers inside me and curled them until she found the exact spot. In less than a minute, my first orgasm was shaking me against the floor, my thighs squeezing her face, screaming her name and other, filthier things. She didn’t pull away. She kept licking while I tugged at her hair, stretching out the orgasm until my vision blurred.

She made me turn over. She repeated the massage over my back and ass, and this time she spread my buttocks and licked my anus from top to bottom. No one had ever done that to me before, and I let out a moan that must have been heard in the apartment below. She pushed a finger into my ass while running her tongue over my perineum, and tore another orgasm out of me against the tiles.

***

We only half-dried ourselves, laughing, and I led her to my bed, clearing away whatever was left of the sheets as we went. Now it was my turn.

I started with her tiny doll’s feet. I sucked each toe one by one, ran my tongue over the soles, and bit her heel. She writhed on the sheets and caressed my breasts with her other foot, pinching my nipples between her toes. The little bitch controlled every muscle in her body as if she had spent a lifetime training it.

I moved up her calves and along the insides of her thighs, nibbling her pale skin until I left marks. When I reached her pussy, she was already soaked, her lips open and waiting for me. I ran my flat tongue from bottom to top, and she let out a muffled cry. I focused on her clit, sucking it with my lips, and pushed two fingers deep inside her. Linh spread her thighs like a gymnast, impossibly open, offering me every inch.

I went down to her perineum and from there to her tightly closed asshole, running my tongue over it without warning. She clutched the sheets and said something in Vietnamese that sounded like anything but rejection. I went back to her pussy, pushed my fingers deeper, and sucked her clit until she came over my face in a long shudder that shook her legs.

She didn’t even let me recover. She slid beneath my body, and despite her short stature, managed to position her face directly beneath my pussy while I kept my mouth on hers. An inverted sixty-nine, with her on her back and me crouched over her face. She licked me, soaking herself in my arousal, pushed two fingers inside me, and brought me to another orgasm.

I lost count of how many times I came and how many times I made her come. We changed positions; I put her on all fours and ate her pussy from behind while squeezing her hanging breasts. She rode my face, sitting on me and rubbing herself until she let out a hoarse cry. We rubbed pussy against pussy until we were both trembling, clutching each other’s hands as if we were about to fall off the mattress.

She fell asleep on my chest, her black hair covering my face and her tight ass pressed against my pubic mound. I fell asleep afterward, breathing in the scent of her hair, certain that this Vietnamese woman wasn’t going to leave my life so easily.

***

The next morning, the smell of coffee woke me. Linh had tidied the living room, gathered up the clothes, and was preparing an absurd breakfast in the kitchen, naked except for one of my aprons.

“Stop doing things like that,” I told her, hugging her from behind. “I don’t need a servant.”

I smeared jam on her nipples and slowly ate it off them right there, holding her against the kitchen counter. She let me, laughing, her legs spread while I went down to suck her pussy standing up until she came, pulling on my hair.

That was almost two years ago. I got her out of the network with the help of a friend in the Guardia Civil who loves playing with our handcuffs and sometimes stays the night with us. Linh has papers, a real job, and is still the most lascivious, kinky lover I’ve ever known. We’re talking about getting married now. And that Thai massage, yes, has been repeated many, many times.