Invitation to Private Tea House

Mina and I are in San Francisco on business for a week. I’m at my office when my secretary shows a courier into my office. The courier comes to my desk and asks if you are the recipient on his delivery list, to which you affirm that you are. He hands me an envelope, made of very fine parchment paper of a soft peach color. I sign for it and he leaves. I sit back down and pick up the envelope. A gentle scent wafts up from it and I hold it to my nose. I think I recognize the scent, but can’t really place it. Picking up a letter opener, I slide it under the flap and open the envelope. Removing the note, a folded paper made of matching parchment, you notice a beautifully written gold character on the outside of the paper.

Underneath it, in fine writing is the English translation. ” Pleasure of Heart”.I’m curious as to what this means to me and open the note gently. A fine sprinkling of gold powder falls gracefully to my desk, again with the same scent emerging from it. I draw my finger through the dust and smell it. Immediately, a warm feeling comes over me and a tingling emanates from deep within. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the sensation, not quite sure if it was real or imagined. I return my thoughts to the note in my hands. Looking down, I see a beautiful script written in English.

You are requested to come to the
Coral Gardens Tea House
This evening at 9:00
Please come by yourself
A limousine will pick you up at 8:40 P.M.

Of course, this puzzles me, not knowing who could possibly have sent this note. But the idea of going to a private tea house draws an enticing picture within me and I decide that this is an adventure I’m certainly going to attend. After I return the note to the envelope, I notice more gold dust on my fingers, and smell once more. The headiness hits my senses again, warming me within. ” Yes,” I think to myself, ” I definitely will have to check this out.”

The rest of the day my work goes quickly as I look forward to the evening’s pleasures. Leaving the office building, the creamy white limo is waiting for me. As I come up to it, a young man opens the door for me and reveals the luxuriousness of its interior. I sit down on a soft leather seat; fragrant fresh blossoms are in the small vases clipped on the inside. They are the perfect color of coral with a hint of red in their throats. They smell like the gold dust that was so intoxicating to me earlier. I sit back and let the ride take me where it may. As I ride through the city, thoughts begin to enter my mind as to what was going to happen this night, and why I was invited to the private tea house in the first place.

I begin to get concerned about the safety of this venture just as the car pulls up to an exquisite garden with a very old house sitting to the back of it. The limo pulls into a hidden drive that wanders through the blossoms and trees of the garden; you can almost smell the verdant coolness of the garden. As the limo stops in front of the door to the house, I see its antiquated structure, a traditional style that intrigues me with its simple but elegant beauty.

An older woman greets me at the door and motions for me to enter. Stopping just inside, I remove my shoes and a young woman I didn’t notice before stoops down and places slippers at my feet. She quietly disappears and the older woman beckons me to follow her down a hallway, hung with silken tapestries that must be hundreds of years old. Looking around, I’m in awe of the incredible scenes depicted on the tapestries. Birds, rivers, pagodas, fish, everything you could possibly imagine. I reach a room towards the end of the hallway and enter into it. The woman motions for me to sit down, and in perfect English, she welcomes me to her tea house. Noting to myself that this must be something quite special, for the head of the house to be seating me, I respond with sincere courtesy at her invitation to be here. She replies that it was not her who issued the invitation, but rather one of her most lovely guest that sent the note. That a very special patron wanted to be sure I had a most relaxing and pleasurable evening at the patron’s expense.

Bao sat cross legged on the floor of the private tea room, her long black hair untied and flowing down to below her shoulders. She is a beautiful forty year old Vietnamese singer, with her pale skin, subtle Asian features, long hair and slender pettie body. She smiles, ” You know you don’t have to fear me?” I said looking at her a smile on my lips. I sat down on the floor. Bao looked at me slightly, then got up leaving the room. She left the door open and the vision I saw, nearly caused me to blow my load. She took her robe off. She had on a white lacy strapless bra, which covered just under her nipples and very sheer white panties. She sprayed some perfume behind her ears, between the top of her panties, her navel and her boobs.

I didn’t wait for an answer, and I stood up then reached down grabbing her arm pulling her up. I forced her into the bedroom, pushing her on to the bed on her stomach, she laid there motionless, I guessed she was trying to figure out her next move. All I could do was continue to examine her hot sexy body. Her hands were resting on her lovely ass, I see the curves of the sides of her breasts trying to peek out beneath the bed. I watch as her body rose and fell just a little from her accelerated breathing due to all of her struggling. She starts rocking her body, in an attempt to flip back over on the bed. I was okay with this option. I wanted a better look at that sexy body anyway. I moved my hand to her shoulder and knee and in one quick motion flipped her body face-up on the bed.

Her eyes were burning up at me as I took in the wonderful vision of her body. I reach out ripping her shear gown and panties off , she had no bra on, her tits were proud and perky as they projected up from her chest. Both nipples were hard and erect, boasted by the tight wrinkled areola surrounding them. I was always a breast man. Something about the sight of a woman’s swollen nipples always creates a stirring in my pants…today was no exception. . .My eyes continues to drink in every curve and ridge of her body. Her pussy was waxed smooth except for a small “ landing strip” of hair that seems to be an arrow pointing to the prize. I see her lips glistening from the nectar she had drawn out with her orgasm earlier, when I walked into the room Bao was finger fucking herself. I stood watching, wanting to taste her immediately. I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I had a dose of that sweet nectar for myself.

I grab her legs, once again sliding her around on the bed to place her legs on both sides of my hips. She starts to struggle and kick again, I grab her ankles and push her legs up until her knees are tight against her chest.