Chapter 4: The Clumsy Dance of Cloth
The small, isolated wooden bungalow was shrouded in darkness, with only the crackling fire from the fireplace as the only source of light and warmth. Outside, the wind whistled through the cracks in the walls, carrying the chill of Moc Chau’s mountains and forests, creating a magical symphony. The atmosphere inside was warm, quiet, and thick with anticipation.
Ngan and Son sat side by side on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, sharing a thick blanket. Both were slightly tipsy from the apple cider they had drunk that night. Ngan’s cheeks were flushed from the warmth and the alcohol. Her eyes were sparkling, looking at the fire, but her mind was sensing every small movement of Son beside her. Son’s heart was pounding, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears, drowning out the sound of the wind. Ngan’s scent – the smell of shampoo, the smell of lotion, and the very scent of a woman – was driving him crazy. He was both timid and driven by an instinctive desire. The goal of both was to break the last boundary of silence, to turn the warmth of sisterhood into the heat of desire. The conflict was the awkwardness of the first time confronting the irresistible urge of the flesh.
The silence lasted for a long time, only the sound of the fire crackling and the wind whistling through the cracks in the wall. Ngan shivered on purpose, curling up, closer to Son, letting the warmth from his body pass through. “It’s so cold, honey…” Her voice whispered, her hot breath blowing into his ear, like an irresistible invitation. “Mmm… hic…”
Son wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. It wasn’t a brotherly hug, but a tight, possessive hug, his fingers digging into her skin, feeling every soft muscle. He took a deep breath, burying his face in her hair that still smelled of the night dew, feeling her distinctive scent, a mixture of shampoo, lotion and a very special woman’s scent, driving him crazy. His hands began to move, gently rubbing her biceps, feeling the softness of her skin, a lustful exploration, slowly sliding down her bare arms. Ngan didn’t resist, she leaned her head on his shoulder, letting her body sink into his warmth, an unconscious surrender, a soft “um” sound escaping from her throat, like a word of acceptance. “So good… so good…”
He slowly turned her face. Their eyes met in the flickering firelight, a gaze full of desire and acceptance, no longer hiding anything. He didn’t ask. He leaned down, his lips finding hers, a kiss full of desire, like a hungry beast pouncing on its prey. The first kiss had the sweetness of apple cider and the spicy taste of ginger tea, mixed with the saltiness of sweat and the strong fishy taste of desire. It was clumsy, a little wet, creating a soft “chut chut” sound of lips touching lips, then quickly became deeper and more intense, like a storm was forming. His tongue searched her mouth, a bold and somewhat immature invasion, stirring all her senses, making her moan “ah…ah…” choked in her throat. Ngan responded, her tongue wrapped around his, an instinctive fusion, a soft “hic” escaped as she arched her back. Their panting mingled, urgent and heavy. The game had begun, and neither of them wanted to stop.
It was still the same space in front of the fireplace, but the atmosphere had changed completely. Their kiss had become urgent and passionate, filled with panting and the rustling of fabric. The heat from their bodies mixed together, making the small room stuffy. The sound of the charcoal crackling in the fireplace, the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls, all blended together, creating a symphony of desire.
The struggle with the clothes began. It was not romantic, but clumsy and instinctive, a dance of desire. Son tried to take off Ngan’s thick coat, fumbling with the zipper, the zipper screeching loudly, like a complaint. His rough fingers touched her soft skin, a jolt of electricity ran down her spine. Ngan giggled, her voice teasing, breathing hot into his ear. “Little brother is so clumsy.” She had to do it herself, pulling the zipper down, letting the heavy coat fall to the floor, making a small “thump”, like a declaration.
It was his turn, she helped him take off his sweater, her long fingers lightly gliding over his toned body, feeling every muscle tense. Underneath was a body that was not too muscular but firm, firm of a young man who often exercised, full of life, a living statue under the firelight. Each layer of clothing was stripped off, thrown haphazardly on the floor, creating a mess, a remnant of civilization. The rustling sound of fabric rang out, mixed with the panting of both of them. With each layer of fabric falling, the embarrassment also fell, giving way to nakedness and screaming primal desire.
Under the flickering firelight, Ngan’s white skin stood out, like a living jade statue. She was left with only a pair of black lace underwear, as thin as smoke. Her full, round breasts were pressed together by the tight bra, forming a deep, inviting cleavage, like an abyss of desire. The tiny panties could not cover her curvaceous, round buttocks, like a wordless invitation, a promise of pleasure. Son swallowed his saliva, a dry “gulp” sound resounded in his throat, like the sound of swallowing all his desire. His eyes seemed glued to her body, a look that was both lustful and a bit adoring, full of desire, as if he wanted to swallow her whole. His voice was hoarse, full of desire, like a growl of a beast. “You… are so beautiful. Your breasts… must be beautiful too…”
Ngan did not answer. She just smiled, a smile full of mystery and power, reached back, unhooked her bra, the small “click” sound echoed clearly in the quiet space. Her breasts were freed, bouncing freely, shaking with each breath, round and plump, like two ripe peaches. Her nipples were rosy, hard from the cold and from stimulation, like two buds blooming, inviting, challenging. “Mmm…”
Now they were completely naked before each other, under the flickering firelight. Their breathing became urgent and heavy, mixed with the pounding of their hearts. The game was about to enter a new phase, more naked and instinctive, where all barriers were broken down, leaving only the primitiveness of flesh and desire.
They moved to the bed, the white sheets cold as their naked skin touched for the first time. The air was thick with lust, as if there was no oxygen left to breathe.
Son pushed Ngan onto her back on the bed. He was in no hurry. He began a pilgrimage on her body. His lips and tongue traveled from her neck, down to her slender collarbone, then stopped at her plump breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, swirled it around teasingly with his tongue, then sucked hard like a hungry baby. Ngan arched her back, a soft moan was suppressed in her throat. His hand was also restless, kneading the other breast, feeling the soft, elastic flesh flowing through his fingers.
He moved lower, kissing her soft belly, then stopping at her most secret place. He used both hands to gently spread her pink pussy lips. The small cave was already wet, glistening in the flickering firelight from the fireplace. Her small, pretty clitoris was erect and inviting. He bent down, his tongue beginning its work.
An electric current ran through Ngan’s body. His tongue was surprisingly soft and skillful, sometimes licking the outside, sometimes thrusting deep into the hot cave, then concentrating on sucking hard on the trembling clitoris. She couldn’t bear it, her legs began to tremble, her hips swaying unconsciously with each of his licks. Her moans could no longer be restrained, they broke out, sharp and high.
“Son… ah… so good… lick me more…” she hiccupped between gasps.
As Ngan was nearing her climax, she used her last bit of strength to grab his hair and pull him up. She turned him over firmly.
“My turn,” she whispered hoarsely.
His penis wasn’t very big, but it was extremely erect, with blue veins bulging out and a clear liquid leaking from the pink tip. She looked at it for a second, then without hesitation, bent down and used her mouth to completely envelop it.
He let out a long moan. Her mouth was warm and wet. She wasn’t just using her lips. Her tongue was a cunning snake, sometimes gliding along the sensitive vein from base to tip, sometimes swirling around the rim of his glans, then suddenly swallowing it whole, deep to the base, making him hold his breath. He had never experienced this before. He gripped the bedsheets tightly, his hips unconsciously bucking with each sucking, trying to restrain himself from coming immediately.