Chapter 39: The Play of Hands
The corn liquor bottle was almost empty. The fireplace was reduced to a few glowing embers, casting a red glow over four bodies sprawled on the large fur rug. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, smoke, and the warm flesh of drunken men.
“No, I don’t believe it!” Minh shouted, his laughter echoing throughout the wooden room. “There’s no way you would confess your love to a teacher in college? That’s bullshit!”
Ngan, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her eyes sparkling, laughed heartily. She was wearing Quan’s white shirt, loose, with only a few buttons left undone in the middle. Every time she laughed, the hem of the shirt would flop, revealing the white skin at her waist and a glimpse of her braless chest. “Really! I was so silly back then…”
“What nonsense!” Minh suddenly took action. He leaned forward, his two hands poking straight into Ngan’s waist, tickling her. “I’ll teach you a lesson for being pretty! I’ll teach you a lesson for lying!”
“Ah!” Ngan jumped, her laughter bursting into a shrill scream. Her whole body leaned back reflexively, falling straight into Tung’s arms. “Minh is playing dirty! Tung, save me!”
Tung, waiting for that moment, wrapped his muscular arms around Ngan. He didn’t save her. He held her back, turning his body into a vice. His hot breath fanned the back of her neck. “Be quiet,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Let me see what Minh can do to you.”
“Oh my god, the ‘hero’ is here,” Minh laughed happily. “Hold on tight or this cat will scratch you!”
Ngan laughed as she struggled to get out of Tung’s arms. A joyful struggle began. Her soft, hot body wriggled and rubbed against his rock-hard chest.
poof
A small, decisive sound. The button of her shirt at her chest couldn’t take the strain and came undone.
All movement seemed to stop for a second.
The shirt fell open, exposing Ngan’s bare breasts almost completely. They were not athletically firm, but full, with a womanly weight, slightly sagging to the sides as she was held down. In the rosy firelight, the smooth white skin of her chest stood out, the areolas were dark and the nipples were hard from the cold and from the stimulation.
“Ah… it’s broken,” Minh stammered, but his eyes were glued to the scene before him.
The awkwardness lasted only a second, before being replaced by a more frantic one. Minh rushed in, not to help Ngan button her shirt, but to “support” Tung. He pressed down on Ngan’s stomach and legs, turning the joke into a real restraint. The room was filled with the laughter of the two men and Ngan’s excited screams of protest.
“You two are bullying me! Quan!” Ngan shouted, laughing and panting. “Are you just going to sit there and watch? Help me!”
“That’s right, Quan!” Minh agreed. “Come here and hold one of my legs. This cat is really strong!”
Quan, who had been sitting quietly in a corner, silently observing the play with a smile on his lips, finally took action. He put down his glass of wine, slowly stood up and walked forward. Ngan’s eyes lit up with hope.
But he did not save her.
He knelt down, and instead of pulling Tung and Minh away, he used both hands to firmly hold her flailing ankles.
“Sorry,” Quan’s voice was calm and humorously cold. “The majority always wins.”
Ngan was stunned. Her mouth fell open in utter disbelief. Then, a loud, hearty, uncontrollable laugh burst from her throat. “You… traitor!”
The joke was over. The laughter died down.
Only the panting of four people remained.
Ngan lay there, completely restrained. Tung held her arms. Minh pressed on her stomach. Quan held her legs. She was breathing heavily, her hair was messy, her shirt unbuttoned, revealing her full breasts, rising and falling with each breath.
A sudden, expectant silence fell over the room. The game was over. Another was about to begin.
Only panting remained. Four chests heaved, trying to catch their breath. The silence was sudden, heavy and thick with desire.
The red light from the embers painted a stark picture. Ngan lay there, in the center, pinned to the dark fur rug. Her fair skin stood out in a ghostly way. A few drops of sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her cleavage in a long, glistening streak.
The three men were silent. Their eyes lost their playfulness. They were watching.
They looked at the full breasts that burst from her torn blouse. They were not the firm breasts of a young girl, but had the weight and softness of a woman. They fell slightly to the sides as she lay, exposing the delicate breastbone. The areolas were dark, spreading out against the white skin, and the nipples, from the cold and the stimulation, were hard, standing like two challenges. They looked down at the flat stomach, which had a feminine softness, where the shirt had fallen, revealing a sliver of hip bone and a sliver of neatly trimmed black pubic hair.
The silence was broken by Minh’s dry swallow. His voice was hoarse.
“Damn… Ngan… your skin is so white.”
Tung, who was still holding her hands tightly, his eyes glued to her chest, growled in his throat. “Your breasts… are really nice. Bigger than I thought.”
Jun, who was still holding her ankle, his gaze was not one of mere desire, but of an artist’s analysis. “No. Not big. Full. A perfect fullness. The same ratio between waist and hips.”
Hearing those blunt comments, Ngan was not embarrassed. On the contrary, a strange feeling of power rose from deep within her lower abdomen. She felt their eyes like invisible hands caressing and exploring every inch of her skin. She was no longer a prey to be captured. She was a sacrifice to be admired.
She stopped struggling.
Then, slowly, very slowly, she arched her chest. A provocative display, offering her breasts to the hungry eyes.
“Is that so?” Her voice was only a whisper, hoarse from panting, but it rang out like a thunderclap between the three men. “Do you like it?”
She didn’t wait for them to answer. She glanced at Tung, looked at Minh, then stopped at Quan.
“So… what are you guys going to do with me? Are you going to keep this up?”
The words were a permission. A supreme provocation. She jerked her chin toward Quan, a graceful command. “Quan, let go of my leg.” Then she looked at Tung. “Tung, let go of my hand.”
They were stunned for a second, then like robots, slowly followed.
When she was free, Ngan did not run. She did not frantically cover herself. She slowly sat up, facing the three wolves kneeling around her, staring at her without blinking. She looked down at her unbuttoned shirt, then back at them, a slow smile spreading across her lips.
She reached up, not to button it, but to undo the remaining buttons. One by one. Then she let the dress slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor, revealing her naked body, white and supple in the firelight.
She sat there, completely naked, between three breathless men.
“Well,” she said, her voice barely cheerful. “Shall we get the party started?”