"The Chinese Exchange Student, Part One" by Jay Roberts
Gay interracial
+++The title sounds like an innocent story. Students,
all over the world have spent summers with host
families. The experience must be positive, otherwise
this idea would not continue. BUT, this story has
descriptions of "x" rated occurrences that are not
for the eyes and brains of kids younger than 16. If
that describes you please press the button and leave.
Others, stay and enjoy.
The organization that placed foreign college student with host families was up against it this year. Maybe it was the economy, but they had dozens of kids who wanted to come to the United States but couldn't be matched up. They decided to change one thing in their requirements, they would accept single applicants.
I am Bill Hansen, a thirty year old lawyer. I've volunteered with other organizations that help kids and also coached youth baseball, so my application attracted a positive interest.
I was questioned about my morals, my house's physical setup and the time I could devote to the student for the full month period. Apparently my responses were good. Then they showed me a file of the students who had not yet been placed. Each page had the kid's picture. As I leafed through, I was surprised at how many of the kids were homely. You think of a twenty-one year old as naturally attractive, but it is not always true, wait! As I turned the page I saw Ming Wu, called Mike for short. He was stunning with his oval face, Chinese eyes and perfect features.
He was attending university in Hong Kong and the details were attractive. He spoke perfect English, he was interested in Music and Theater (I am also) and he wanted to visit cultural points of interest while in the U.S.
It was a done deal and Mike and I began a brief correspondence even before his flight was arranged. My intuition was the he was gay. Not typical, because along with music and drama, he was varsity soccer. He probed me (not what you think, you dirty boy) trying to find out about my preferences.
I am not active sexually but I have had some gay experiences and now remain gay friendly. I am a lawyer and my practice keeps me very busy and I am able to convert my sexual interests into work. But I'm not dead. I don't kid myself that I chose this boy because Chinese men fascinate me.
His plane was three PM this afternoon. It was a Sunday, the airport was unusually quiet. I waited on a bench on the balcony that provided a clear view of the deplaning passengers arriving in the inspection area.. This plane was a direct flight from Hong Kong, so most of the passengers had foreign passports so they had to be processed by immigration and security.
I saw a slim young Chinese just reach baggage inspection after passing through immigration. I was a bit disappointed. He generally resembled his picture but his skin was mottled from acne and he walked with a slight hunch over. I decided I'll make the best of it.
But then, as if a spot light lit the kid coming through the door, Mike appeared. He looked around, then up. He spied me and waved a long-fingered hand and his handsome face broke out into a wide smile. Really excellent, pure white, perfectly shaped teeth were exposed. Then he paid attention to getting his baggage ok'd.
I hurried downstairs and waited at the exit. There he was, heading briskly toward me, an lizard messenger bag over his shoulder. He was dressed in a gray blazer with white shorts. The outfit was topped off with a bright yellow polo shirt. His manicured hand was on the handle of his rolling suitcase that matched his messenger bag. Elegant!
As he came within a two foot distance, he threw his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. I smelled his breath that had been perfumed with Sen Sen and his cologne that was a mix of sandalwood and lemon. "You are more handsome in person, sir," he said in a cultured British accent spoken with a mellow baritone voice.
This was a guy and a half. He was no innocent student, he was worldly and wildly handsome. His picture hardly did him justice. The pale coffee skin was burnished and poreless.
"Welcome to American," I said heartily. "You are welcome and...say are you hungry?"
"I am Bill, but don't you hate the fare in airports?"
I agreed, but I was a bit taken aback at his high standards. After all it was just a snack.
"Well let's get my car and we can stop at a nice restaurant near my house."
"No steak," he warned. "Once you've had Japanese steak, all others become uneatable."
"Okay," I said, but I could see problems in the future.
We walked to the parking garage. My new black Mercedes sedan gleamed in the bright lights on poles surrounding the lot. It was getting dark.
"Uncle Chan has the same model in maroon. Do you like the car?"
"It's comfortable and reliable."
"His Bentley is old, but a really excellent car. I, myself, have a small older Porsche. It's fun."
I was getting a little uncomfortable. He was taken such pains to establish himself as a rich kid. I didn't encourage it, but I did ask, as we were driving along. "Are your parents in Hong Cong?"
"No, they were political and died in prison, I had been sent to live with my Uncle at age eight. He's an importer, but of course, one out of three people in Hong Cong are importers. He is quite successful. I love the old dear, but he is getting quite old and forgetful."
I wondered how this sophisticated lad could learn any culture that he hadn't already been exposed to. My thought was answered when he said, "I so look forward to your opera. Chinese opera is very...ethnic, not very musical, and your art museums are the best. I plan to go to Paris for the Louvre next year."
We pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. It was quite full, this being Sunday evening. This was a chain restaurant and its menu was basic American. I thought the food a bit above average. I asked at the desk how long it would be to be seated. I learned, about forty five minutes. I put my name in and we went into the bar.
"Do you drink?" I asked.
"Of course, since I was quite young. I think a Martini might be nice."
The bartender was a young fellow who came in front of us and instead of asking for our order, he raised his arched eyebrows in a questioning look.
Mike laughed at the gesture. "What's your name?"
He was told Sean. "Well Sean, do you have Sapphire Gin?"
"Let me check."
He looked over the bottles and turned some around to read the labels. Mike called, "Sean, it's blue."
Just then the young bartender found the bottle and held it up in triumph.
"Good," Make said, "Now make the drink with the gin and fill the little cap with dry vermouth, take the pimento out of two olives and pop them in."
Sean listened in amazement and went off to work on the drink order, failing to take mine.
"It's not pimento anyway, it used to be once, it's now red bell pepper."
I nodded.
His drink came. Sean put it down on the bar.
"I napkin or coaster, please."
Sean blushed and supplied it. Now he looked at me with his now famous eyebrow raise.
"Bourbon on the rocks with a shake of bitters."
It came quickly, and I drank it too fast and now had nothing to keep me busy while Mike sipped his drink daintily. He was trading glances with the bartender who was actually quite cute, a short kid, Italian looking. His bare arms were hairy and he had the kind of beard that needed shaving twice a day. People often mistake hairiness with virility. He came near us and spoke to Mike. "You live around here?"
"I will, for a month."
Leaning close, he whispered, but of course I heard it, "Maybe we can hang out some time. You can call here and get me, ask for the bar. Here's a card."
Just then are table was ready. Mike got up, leaving his drink on the bar and called over his shoulder, "Sean, bring the drink to the table."
He was used to service. He wasn't imperious, he just expected it.
At the table the waiter asked if we wanted anything to drink, then he spied Sean heading our way with Mike's drink in his hand.
Mike thanked him, saying in a soft voice, "You ought to use a tray." Then louder, "Make another one, and one more for my friend."
As I was the host, nominally, Mike was taking liberties, but he looked so great here at the table with me, I guess I'd forgive anything.
His order was even more detailed than he specs for his drink. After studying the menu, he announced, "I'm going American all the way. He ordered sliced turkey with dressing, only white meat, and instead of mashed potatoes yams, "And leave off that white gravy or sauce."
I ordered a hamburger.
In spite of his worldliness, Mike was not a good drinker. Two large Martinis were sinking him. Of course, the long flight and the hours awake might have contributed but he had a thick tongue and he knew it and apologized. "It should improve after I eat."
"Are you gay Will?"
"Do I seem gay?"
"No not at all, that's why I had to ask."
"I am not a practicing homosexual although I had some experiences when I was in my early teens. Are you?"
"I love women. I fuck them every chance I get, but boys...ah...I really get off on them. Did you find the bartender attractive? He could be had for the asking. I had a nice boy on the plane, he gave me a hand job and caught it in his own handkerchief. Oh my, I am running off at the mouth."
I thought he'd want to leave at once, but he ordered coffee and apple pie. After he finished the pie and had a second coffee, he seemed to be sobering up.
I paid the check and the valet brought the car up and we rode home, a trip of about twenty minutes.
I showed him his room, he seemed satisfied but perhaps the house wasn't luxurious enough for him. He disappeared into his room and announced that he was going to take a shower and then we can have a little talk. "Would you like that?" he asked. He batted his eyelashes. I noticed them for the first time. They were very long and rare on most Chinese. It gave him a slightly feminine aspect.
I went into my own bathroom, washed up and changed to sleep shorts and a tee shirt. I looked in the mirror and decided I ought to wear a robe, for decorum. I did and as I left my room and headed to the livingroom, Mike called out to me, "Come to the bathroom, door's open."
I turned around and entered his bedroom and then to the bathroom. He was in the shower. He smiled at me. I couldn't make out the specifics of his body through the translucent glass. He stuck a wet smooth, surprisingly muscled arm holding a long handled brush.
"Could you please use the brush on my back, I'm itchy from leaning on it during the flight."
I did it. During the process I saw his backside. It was beautiful, well shaped, elegant, but bordering on the perky. Then he turned. Wow, he was really hung. A very long slim penis and a luxuriant supply of pubic hair, that Asian kind, standing up proudly in layers.
"Thanks," he said abruptly and closed the sliding door.
"I'll be downstairs," I said.
In the livingroom, I turned on the TV and settled in my easy chair. As I watched, I checked my mail that had been on the floor near the slot. Nothing important. I was getting a little sleepy. I wondered if he was coming. I decided to check.
He was in bed wearing a kimono, his eyes looked extremely tired. I guess he had been waiting for me. I pulled the covers away from him and then replaced them so he was well tucked in.
"Kiss," he said sleepily.
I guess his lips. They were surprisingly hot.
End Part One