Chapter 41.C: The Anatomy of an Analyst (Quan)
The atmosphere suddenly changed.
Minh’s wild, boisterous demeanor had receded. Now it was Quan’s turn. The atmosphere had suddenly become quiet, tense, and morbidly intellectual. This wasn’t sex. This was surgery.
Quan gently helped Ngan lie back on the carpet. He reached for a clean towel nearby, and slowly began to wipe away Minh’s semen from her back and buttocks, his movements as careful as an archaeologist cleaning a precious statue.
“It has to be clean to get an accurate reading,” he whispered, his voice coldly calm.
He assumed the traditional face-to-face position, then leaned down, looking straight into her eyes. His eyes behind his glasses held no mad desire, only the intense concentration of a scientist.
“Look at me, Ngan. I want to see every expression you make.”
He entered very slowly, very deeply, his eyes never leaving hers for a second. He felt every fold inside her enveloping his cock. He began to move, a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
Then, he began to direct.
“Minh,” his voice was cold, “stop touching her breasts. Use your tongue. Lick her left earlobe. I want some aural stimulation.”
Minh, after a second of surprise, immediately obeyed. He crawled to her side and began using his tongue to explore Ngan’s sensitive earlobe.
“Tung,” Quan continued. “Where is your hand? Take hers, intertwine your fingers tightly. I want to feel a sense of connection and a little pain.”
Tung did the same. His rough hand squeezed Ngan’s soft hand, their fingers intertwined so much that she winced slightly.
Now Ngan was being methodically tortured. Her pussy was filled with Quan’s hypnotic thrusts. Her left ear was tormented by Minh’s cunning tongue. Her right hand was clenched painfully in Tung’s hand.
Quan began to change his rhythm, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes shallow, sometimes deep, his eyes still glued to her face, observing the slightest change.
“Here…” he whispered, as his cock hit a spot that made her whole body arch. “Right here… your muscles contract the most. You like it when I thrust here, don’t you?”
Ngan could not answer. She could only nod unconsciously, tears started to flow from the corners of her eyes, not because of pain, but because of absolute submission.
“Fuck,” Minh whispered to Tung, low enough so Quan couldn’t hear. “This guy makes love like he’s solving math problems. It scares me.”
Tung just kept silent, looking at Ngan’s writhing face. “But… she seems… to really like it…”
Quan felt Ngan’s body trembling, nearing its limit. So did he. His breathing became more rapid.
“I’m coming,” his voice was still eerily calm. “Get ready.”
He pulled out, still looking at her. No need for anyone to order him. Ngan, as if by trained reflex, raised her head and opened her mouth.
Quan knelt between her legs, grabbed her chin and shot. His semen shot straight into her mouth, not a drop spilled out.
He collapsed beside her, panting. Round one was over.
Ngan lay between the three men, exhausted, her body a map of different traces and tastes. She had tasted all three. And she knew the most chaotic part of the party had just begun.