Date: Mon, 2 Aug 2010 11:17:50 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "The Chinese Exchange Student, Part One" by Jay Roberts   Gay Interracial

"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