Four writers for the price of one blog
A little light story for the new year. I have, in fact, thought of the Times Square Ball Drop pretty much this way since adolescence. –M
“That is not so different from some Chinese new year celebrations,” she said of the confetti-covered crowd. “Fewer fireworks. Not as many dragons”
Lian’s English was more proper and better enunciated than mine, and almost British in accent. She’d just started grad studies in my department at Columbia this semester, and I’d first seen her during my thesis proposal defense seminar in September. She’d been sitting in the front row, and her jade-eyed attention hung on every point I made like a hawk ready to dive. I recall being more intimidated by that than my adviser’s note scribbling. I sort-of remember answering questions after the formal presentation, but really, I remember better the part of my mind figuring out how I was going to ask her out when it was over. An hour later, my advisor shook my hand and told me I’d passed – only three more years of research and writing to go. Ten minutes after that, I had a date, and for some reason that seemed like the greater accomplishment.
“Would you rather have gone out?” I asked, “We probably can’t make the Square, but I bet we could hit one of the campus parties.”
She pressed her slight form back against me and shook her head. Arrow straight, jet-black hair swayed with the motion. I remembered asking her out for coffee in broken, tourist Cantonese, and her smiling behind a raised hand and replying in perfect English – in the affirmative. The movement of her hair was hypnotic then, too.
“No, I like it here with you. I don’t mind the quiet at all.”
We watched a live band perform – neither of us knew them, they’d hit the scene while I was writing my proposal and Lian was traversing continents.
“Chinese New Year starts usually with a big family reunion dinner.”
I looked at the remnants of our Indian takeaway and bottle of wine.
“Not much of a banquet here,” I said ruefully, my arm draped over her hip, hand twined with hers. “Are you missing your family?”
“No, not really. I’m not much of a traditionalist… What is that?” She pointed to the screen.
“That’s the Ball. They drop it to mark the New Year. It’ll light up and do all kinds of stuff as it goes.“
“What do they drop it into?”
“No, sorry, they lower it down a flagpole like thing. And there’s fireworks and cheering and everything when it hits the bottom at midnight.”
Lian nodded, then paused. She turned her head to look at me for a moment, then squirmed out of my embrace.
“I have to pee,” was her response when I tried to grab her back.
“OK, Don’t fall in. There’s only a few minutes left.”
She took two. When the clock on the broadcast read 11:51, she was back, and I immediately forgot about the Square and the Ball, because she’d returned without a stitch of clothing on.
I sat up on the couch, startled. And interested. I made as if to stand, but she’d already stepped up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. I almost grabbed her right there. It’s not like she could have stopped me. I’ve got more than a foot of height on her and weigh quite literally twice what she does. But when my tiny naked girl tells me to sit still, I do.
“When does the ball start moving?”
I looked at her completely blank for a moment until I realized she was asking about the Square.
“Err, over the last minute, I think,” I stammered.
“Then you tell me when it’s 11:58.”
“Tell, you? It’ll be on the screen, you’ll be able to see…”
My voice died in my throat. No, she wouldn’t. Lian’s hands were at the waistband of my tented sweats. I obliged her unspoken command, lifting my butt off the couch so she could pull them off, boxers and all. My cock, always quick on the uptake, was already at full attention, and no sooner were my pants piled around my feet than her lips closed on my shaft.
I could try to wax poetic to explain what Lian’s mouth and tongue could do; how hot the inside of her mouth – and her throat – are. But I stink at poetry, and anyway, it would sound like bragging. Which it would be.
I’d had no reason not to believe her in October when she’d said I was the second guy she’d ever slept with. It had been a little harder, in more ways than one, believing she’d never given head before though. She said she’d done it, that second week of November, out of a sense ‘fair’s fair’ after I’d eaten her for a half-hour of simply delicious orgasms. I’ll cop to limited oral experience myself, before then, but Jesus Christ. I think that first time blew both our minds just a little. It was like nothing else I’d felt, and, I know I count myself pretty damn lucky here, she liked it almost as much as I did. Lian’s mouth could get me off damn fast, and she’d taken advantage of that more than once since that discovery.
So, really, all I could do at that point was groan and weave my fingers into her hair. Just before I got a good grip, though she sucked hard all the way up my shaft and came off with a lewd pop.
“No coming. Not yet. Got that?”
Jesus Christ. I nodded and looked at the clock.
It really wasn’t hard being with at her in the department. In ‘academic mode’ Lian was all business. Beautiful yes, moves like a cat, but with a mind like a laser, and with a focus those around her found either contagious or intimidating. When she turned study off, though, she brought the same intensity elsewhere, and I couldn’t tell you how many lotteries I’ve won to be the focus of that at times like this.
Five minutes of heaven. She didn’t torture me too badly, but by the end little electric shocks were running up and down my spine and along my twitching cock. I’m sure she tasted how close I was getting. I could barely croak out “11:58”
Lian popped her mouth off me again and my whole body twitched. She rose up from her crouch between my legs, and God, she had that look; bright blushing face, red, red lips, smiling lasciviously at me as she stood and turned. She treated me to a view of her gorgeous little ass as she opened her legs to either side of mine and shimmied back, starting to dip down. I finally, finally got it while watching her glistening cunt lower toward my saliva-slicked cock.
“Oooh, you clever thing.”
My hands found her hips to steer her. I could have lifted her bodily easily and just pulled her down on me. Lord knows I wanted to. But that wasn’t what this was about.
At 11:58:45, the head of my cock split the lips of her cunt. We both moaned at the same time and she squirmed in my grip.
Now, I’m probably just your average guy. On the tall side, sure, but I’m no giant in the dick department. It’s Lian, really. She’s tiny. She might hit 5 feet on her toes, and, well, everything about her is really just quite small. I’ve never cared one way or the other about bust size, but when I found out I could envelop her entire breast in my mouth to suck, I was pretty hooked. And, well, you might be able to guess, she has the tiniest, tightest cunt I’d ever imagined. I swear the first time we fucked, I thought I’d broken her. But arms and legs gripping me with her full strength told me otherwise, and made it impossible for me to stop fucking her. But I digress.
The truth of the matter is that every time she opened for me, every fucking time, I thought of how impossible it looked. How obscene. How unbelievably hot. It was always slow going, that initial fuck. It felt and sounded like the very first. I never tired of it. And the hiccupping, squirming, squealing she let out told me she felt something similar.
At 11:59:00 the picture cut to the sparkling, flashing Ball, and Lian’s weight shifted. The Ball started its drop; and so did she hers. The lights on the New Year’s ornament scintillated as Lian’s cunt flowered around me and squeezed the head of my cock. The camera cut to the crowd, the music, the announcers, the Ball. Lian swallowed more and more of me in her rippling heat. We both made animalish sounds as she squeezed me tight with every millimeter. My hands tightened on her hips, helping her down as we watched the time and the Ball together. Her hand moved to her clit.
She was almost seated in my lap. As the crowd echoed the countdown on the screen, Lian arched her back and with, an effort I felt, relaxed herself. If felt like she just fell the last centimeter onto me as she turned her head to mine. Our lips met and both of us shook like a circuit had just closed between us. She cried out into my mouth as her weight settled in my lap, and we were both gone. The first squeeze of her coming cunt almost took my breath away, but right behind it, as her inner muscles released, came the first flooding rush of my own climax. I practically bit her lip as I grunted and bucked up into her, my hands locking her down on my pulsing cock.
I knew, elsewhere, there were fireworks, bottle rockets, cheers, screams, strobes; thousands, even millions of little celebrations happening all over the city and beyond. There and then, though, Lian and I had lost ourselves in an explosion that consumed a year all by itself.
Later, when I could once again differentiate the roar of the crowd on the television from the buzz in my head, I felt Lian, still impaled, melting back against me, gathering my arms around her as if I were a blanket. She sighed and hummed contentedly.
“I like this Ball-drop. It is a tradition I could see adopting,” she said, “But still, wait till February. Chinese New Year, I’ll show you a dragon dance.”
“I thought that was a whole team of people with-“
She cut me off with a hard squeeze of her inner muscles.
“I told you, I’m not a traditionalist.”
She turned to look up at me, an impish smile on her face, then reached up to grab my hair and pull so that my ear was close to her lips.
“My version is better,“ and darted her tongue in my ear.
I growled and hugged her tight, wondering if ‘better’ might kill me before I defended my thesis. I already knew I was going to risk it.