A Christmas Tail Part 1 is HERE...
The MosCombo arrived: a petite burger oozing with onions, a Japanese-concept of chili, and a pile of fat fries. When Santa visited his pal in Tokyo (buddy worked there), they went to The Mos--Tokyo-chum said he liked it because they encouraged customization. "Remember the Japanese saying," said his pal: "'The nail that sticks up will be hammered down.' That's why you can't get, say, a McBurger without mustard. The Mos flips the finger to that noise: you don't want onions, you say 'onion-
nuki', that means 'hold the onions' in Japanese, got it?"
MosBurgers are meant to be eaten within their cute folded paper-canopy that catches the inevitable detritus. Santa ignored this design-principle, extracted his SloppyMos and bit into it over his fries, letting chili and onions drip like stalagmites on the mound of fried spuds. It was a good burger, though not as good as the ones in Japan.
Not one of those mall-kids had asked for a burger. One twerp asked for a "Prada bag, and not one those Shenzhen ones either, Santa." Little fucker. Santa promised him one from Zhuhai.
"Where's Zhuhai?"
"France. Near the North Pole. Ho ho ho, NEXT!"
Damn he was hungry, dove into the pile of chilifucked-up 'n' onioned fries, some Japanese exec's wet dream of USA 1950s diner-food. Fifties chow, greaser rock 'n' roll, all as illusory as those girls in Harajuku, dressing up like 50s gals...
Plucked eyebrows. Severe razor-bang haircuts. Looked through him like he wasn't there...not MY tribe, said the stares of the Harajuku gals.
But out the window was reality: chilly. Immaculately grimy concrete gloom: neon Mongkok, far from a Japanese imitation of half-century-past USA-burgers dished up in a fake shopping mall stomped down into the urbanscape like some giant property-developer's turd. Pissing on the fire-hydrant of sportfuckery. Meh.
Santa went for a piss and washed his hands thoroughly, tiny MosSpecks disappearing down the drain. He'd stashed a few condoms in his backpack--the ones they had in the local fuckshops weren't his favorites. Down the escalators and Santa breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the carol-droning mall and into the Cantocurse-filled air of urban Hong Kong.
Now where? He often ended up on Shanghai Street, back in the day--the houses there had slightly bigger fuck-cubicles. He'd found one that had been renovated: cut-glass panels, a tiny slice of posh. It was summer then, he'd been sweating and the friendly shirtless tattooed guy offered him a plastic cup of ice-cold water. A higher-up grinned at him and addressed him in excellent English. They chatted a bit, and Santa asked his name: "Godfrey!" said the fellow. When Santa exited later, well satisfied, he gave everyone the thumbs-up, complemented them on the décor and asked Godfrey how often he was around."
"I'm here," said Godfrey, dragging on a cigarette, "eight days a week!"
Needless to say, although Santa returned several times for Thai and Chinese eat-in, he never saw Godfrey again.
Things were different now. Santa dialed in the mobile version of sex141.com on his smartphone and checked the offerings. How many gals can there BE called "Ball Ball" or "Man Man," he wondered. Where were Donner and Blitzen?
A lot of PRC dames...hmm, this one's "mixed," probably Thai. He rang the number and said
sawatdii khrap, the lady answered: '
sawatdii khaa'. Santa switched to English immediately, she communicated adequately, he said he would arrive in three minutes.
It was actually four as some old ladies got in the lift and gave him the hairy eyeball. He smiled and said "Merry Christmas" and they busted out laffin'. One had a gold tooth, and he held the door for them to exit, hoping the slight delay wouldn't lead to alternate bro leaping from the shadows and shifting his target's sign to "Please Wait." He'd made the call, he'd hold up his end of the bargain.
No worries: the sign of "Lisa" welcomed him as he dinged her bell. Scraping and shuffling. He waited in the pink light and a door opened down the hall, a satisfied customer exiting quickly.
Lisa's door opened. "
Sawatdii khaa,
khun Santa," she said. Santa had to laugh: she wore a sheer red teddy, pink panties, black stiletto heels and a Santa cap. The whole package probably topped 160 cm--emphatically elfin.
"Yes ma'am!" said Santa, with a grin. "Don't mind if I do."
She giggled. "English, litten bit," she said, holding her fingers two centimeters apart. Her tits seemed a couple of sizes bigger than might be expected on such a diminutive frame. They looked all-types-a-good.
She broke into a smile and Southeast Asian phenotypes cycled through Santa's brain. "
Mai pen rai," he said, smiling broader. Her grin was crooked, making it insanely sexy. Gorgeous dames improved with imperfections.
Lisa rattled off some Thai, Santa laughed and said, "Sorry, I speak Thai..." and held his fingers a centimeter apart, "THIS much."
"No problem! Mama Thai, Papa Vietnam, you like?"
"Very much." Santa bent down and gave her a "sniff-kiss": bringing his nose to the nape of her neck, near the waterfall of thick black hair and inhaling sharply. "Wow! Beautiful."
Lisa smiled, grabbed his head and pushed her full lips--soft and warm as vascularized pillows--against his. Santa's cock stirred immediately as their tongues dueled briefly, then she let him go so he could straighten up.
She looked up, lipstick askew, sparkling brown eyes looking right into his. "So," said Lisa, "we fuck now?"
To be continued...
[
Last edited by JackTheBat at 11-12-2011 02:36 ]
