OK, I told her, I’d invite my States friend over from time to time.I asked her how many cocks she’d fucked. She held up two fingers and I knew that wasn’t right so I asked a different way. “Two” meant at the same time. How many in the past she couldn’t even figure.The next time “our” friend Toby visited, Ya-wen demonstrated a real “Two” fuck. Awkward but very interesting. Uncomfortable for her with our bigger Anglo dicks.We also figured out that she was sixteen years old. I was thirty-five and never married. Never found the right one.A few months later my contract was up. I couldn’t take her back with me so she moved in with Toby who had a longer term engagement.Three months later I missed Ya-wen a lot, enough to get her a visitor visa and plane ticket. We spent the first twenty-four hours in bed, her getting over the jet lag and me getting my balls drained “aoap” (as often as possible). Then I took her sightseeing. She was as amazed by this country as I had been of hers. The flight. Right? Ember hooked his feet under the bed and felt his heel bump against the cool metal of a chamber pot. He paused, biting his lip. The two guards smiled at one another, then at him.“Besides,” the guard on the right said. “Your wives are amazing! They’ll have this in the bag without your help.”“Right.” Ember hooked his foot on the chamber pot, feeling that it was dry and unused. He kicked it up into the air with a single fluid movement. While he might not have had the strength or accuracy of the Unconquered, he didn’t need it to plant the pot directly into the guard on the left’s belly. The breastplate he wore took most of the impact, but there was still enough force to stagger him – and then Ember was on his feet and sprinting from the tent. He emerged onto the scattered shipwrecks of the coast, and spotted all that his Legions had left behind: Civilian attaches, refugees who couldn’t fight, the injured. He saw a Ninth Legion courier, lounging against the smallest skyship that.
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