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My Vietnamese Granddaughter

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Asa Akira

My father and his brother both served in Vietnam. Uncle Jim has a scar from a bullet wound he loves showing off after he’s had a couple of beers. One of Mom’s cousins died over there. A lot of Americans for a lot of years didn’t give much respect to the boys who’d gone over to fight in our name. But in our family men weren’t ashamed to talk about their experiences in Vietnam. I grew up hearing about Saigon and ….Danang…Hue…Tet…Asian pussy

The hero of this story went to Vietnam to serve his country. He left some DNA there.

While the following is a complete story unto itself, for those readers who hate the idea of a multi chaptered story – be warned – there is a possibility of a sequel coming out in the future.

Please note:All characters in this story who engage in sexual relationships are over 18 years old.

“Hey you,” I heard yelled peremptorily at my back as I knelt by the flower bed under the picture window, weeding and clearing out the dead shoots.

“YOU!” shouted louder and from a closer distance this time.

I turned slowly to face the offending noise, and was blinded for a second by the sun shining over her shoulder, but then simply panicked when I recognized the silhouette.

‘VIET CONG’ screamed silently and irrationally through my brain as I threw myself flat on the ground and rolled away from the expected bullet. I reached desperately for a non existent rifle even as sanity slowly returned.

It’s fucking Boston, not Danang I screamed to myself as I lay staring up at a teenage Asian. She’s probably just a student I tried to convince my whirling mind.

“Are you okay?” the long haired Asian asked as she stood looming over me.

“What do you want…What are you doing here,” I stammered as I felt the sweat drip from my brow.

“Are you the janitor for this building?”


“The janitor, the caretaker…I’m looking for somebody to give me a key…. Are you drunk?” she then asked after pausing to run her eyes over me, my stubble, my dirty shirt, a teenager’s scorn in her question.

For seconds I pondered whether I should just kill her or whether I should rape her first.


“I’m looking after the building,” I finally admitted as still trembling, I slowly moved to get up on my feet. It had been years since it had struck me so hard.

“I’m moving into Apartment One today…I need a key.”

“No Asians allowed here,” I said gruffly and turned to go.

“WHAT! What did you say?”

“No chinks, slants…it’s the bosses rules, blonds only,” I spat out. I’d fucked a hundred girls that looked like her in my time in Nam, would have known she was Vietnamese from a hundred yards away. I suddenly had a raging hard-on. She was beautiful.

“This is America…I’m American,” the stunned girl answered as she backed away another couple of feet from me.

“Yeah, by way of Ho Chi fuckin Minh city.”

“I was born in California. My friends and I have rented this apartment,” she said pointing to my building, but with a look in her eyes that wavered between fear and anger.

“What’s your name?” I demanded as I pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from my back pocket.

“Samantha Woo.”

“That’s a good one,” I laughed as I pretended to inspect the paper. “You’re not on the list,” I said, shaking my head.

“Do you have Amy Grant, or a Cathy Cooper on it?” she asked desperately, trying to decipher the list in my hand while reading upside down.

“Three blonds in apartment one…I met them all…no dark haired Vietnamese,” I said with a finality that should have brooked no further dissent.

“I’m replacing Gretchen…Gretchen Smith,” the young girl yelled at my retreating back. “She got sick…she’s taking the semester off… my accommodation fell through…I’m a friend of Amy’s,” the now near panicking girl tried to explain.

“Good try Miss, but we do have our rules.”

“Can’t I just wait inside…Amy’s supposed to be here any minute now. I’m a Harvard student.”

“Yellow bitches trying to take over our universities now,” I growled, them mumbled, “Suicide bombers…probably a commie terrorist. Get off the property or I’ll call the police,” I warned.

“You’re crazy…you’re fucking nuts,” I heard repeated as I walked next door to my apartment and then disappeared from her view.

I owned the two buildings, old attached houses that dated from the thirties. The one I lived in, number 54 Market Street, had, under my own spacious quarters which spread over three floors, a basement apartment which I’d rented to two coeds. Next door, number 56, had three apartments, large ones on the first and second floors, and another smaller one in the basement.

I stood in the picture window of my living room and watched as the Vietnamese paced back and forth on the sidewalk, was sorely tempted to go up to the attic and get the rifle that had already dispatched more than fifty of her brethren in the jungles of Vietnam. I’d kept it oiled and in firing shape for nearly forty years. bahçelievler escort I just knew she was going to be trouble.

She’s tall for an Asian I couldn’t help but notice as I watched her walk. Had to be five eight, five nine. Big tits too, at least for one of her people, I thought. Long, black hair right down to her fucking tight, round ass. I stroked my hardness through my shorts as I imagined her pink insides tightening around my fat cock.

Then, lost in the past, I remembered my first piece of ass as I unzipped my pants and released my throbbing hard-on, remembered that little dirty room over the bar in Saigon, was remembering how my first cunt had felt when I suddenly started to spurt cum upward in an arc that only stopped when it splattered my front window.

Jesus, I muttered to myself as I looked out the window. She had stopped pacing in front of the window, instead now stood standstill, a look of horror on her face as she realized what I’d just done. My still hard cock was dripping sperm. Quickly she turned and rushed thirty yards down the pavement.


An hour later I saw a car pull up and Amy and Cathy, two of the girls I’d agreed to rent the apartment to last spring, hopped out and were immediately met by an irate Miss Woo who talked at them non stop for five minutes.

“Oh Mr. Coursey, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” the smiling blond said as soon as I opened the door to her knock. Over her shoulder I could see the sexy, yellow bitch hovering nervously on the sidewalk.

“Miss Grant, Amy, great to see you,” I said with a broad welcoming smile. I’d showered and shaved since my meeting with Miss Woo and looked quite presentable in a pair of sharply creased black slacks and an off-white, silk Tommy Bahamas shirt. Miss Grant was so cute and sweet a man just automatically wanted to take her in his arms and eat her up.

“You too sir.” I could see her hesitation, saw her try to peer over my shoulder before she went on, “Was somebody else here before sir? Uh…Sammy,” she stammered as she pointed back to her friend, “Sammy said some crazy homeless guy almost attacked her…said some weird things…I mean…”

“The Vietnamese girl?” I asked gruffly.


“She started ordering me about. Called me a janitor…a bum, asked if I was a drunk,” I said angrily. “Demanded I let her in your apartment.”

“It’s my fault sir. I tried to call you last week…to let you know…but I couldn’t ever get an answer.”

“I was away. But I didn’t agree to her…she can’t stay. She’s rude…a foreigner.”

“But Mr. Coursey. She has no place to stay. I promised. Her parents live next door to us in Los Angeles,” she begged, her beautiful blue eyes beseeching me silently.

“She said I was crazy…that I was a bastard,” I complained even though I had already decided to let the little commie slut stay. I’d make her pay. “I spent five years over there, fighting for Uncle Sam, saw my friends killed…shit, I was wounded…and now forty years later this little bitch comes to my house and swears at me.”

“There must have been a misunderstanding,” Amy protested, “She’s usually a nice girl.”

“I fought for my country,” I almost yelled, “and this…this bloody commie is going to”

“My daddy fought there too sir,” Amy said softly.

“I know honey, it was one of the main reasons I rented to you girls.”

“Can’t she just stay for a while…until we get this sorted out. Please sir?” she begged.

“We should never have let her kind in…She’ll have to fill in an application…you and Cathy will be responsible for her…I’ll throw you all out if there’s any trouble,” I warned. “I don’t want any whores living in my house.”

“Oh thank you sir…you’ll see…we’ll be your favorite tenants,” she said as she gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “I’ll get Samantha to fill in the application and bring it right over.”

“You bring it over,” I ordered, “that girl accused me of terrible things…she’s nuts.”

“She did say something strange. You didn’t…no of course you didn’t. I promise I’ll bring it back myself.”

“If any of you are using drugs,” I started.

“God, never sir…we’re good girls,” she promised.

“All of them are in the drug trade…Drug gangs, Tongs…I want to see her passport…I’m going to check it with Homeland Security,” I promised as she turned to go.

“But sir.”


Of course I had all of my apartments wired for both picture and sound. At my age why rent apartments to pretty coeds if you couldn’t have a little fun. Watch them naked. Screwing. Sucking Harvard dick.

Like I said, there were three apartments in Amy’s building and a semi basement one under me. So every year I’d have eleven or twelve coeds to spy on. Good looking ones, I always made sure of that. Sexy blonds! It was an easy job to wire them; the Company had trained me well. I got the equipment wholesale from an old CIA friend and partner who’d branched bahçeşehir escort out into private security. I made sure every couple of months to send him a copy of some of my more interesting tapes. Tit for tat so to speak.

“He did, I’m telling you,” I heard and saw as I watched the three girls standing and talking in their new living room ten minutes later. “He said Asians weren’t allowed…that it was the bosses orders…I didn’t know the asshole was the owner. He was unshaven and dressed like a bum.”

“Maybe it was somebody else,” cute little Cathy Cooper answered, Miss ‘pert tit coed’ personified. I’d loved the way they’d jiggled under her sweater when she and Amy had come looking for an apartment last spring.

“It was the same guy Amy was talking to. He’s a pervert,” Samantha Woo insisted.

“He served in Vietnam,” Amy said. “Maybe he was having a flashback or something…stress syndrome. He’s always been a gentleman with Cathy and I.”

“He pulled out his thing and masturbated. Right in the window. It was disgusting.”

I could see neither of the other girls quite believed this last story…interpreting the glances between Amy and Cathy I think they were both wondering if they’d made a mistake with their new roommate. Nice Mr. Coursey masturbating in public?

“Well, lets just all try to get along. I know you’re going to love it here Sammy. Wait til we go out clubbing tonight,” Amy enthused; she was one of those people who see the good side of everything and everyone.

“But,” the still dubious teen protested.

“This is the best apartment within a mile of campus. Look at the rooms. They’re huge.”

“It is nice,” Samantha conceded, “but I don’t know.”

“Give him another chance, he’s nice,” Cathy advised.

Suddenly smiling resignedly, Miss Woo announced to her new roommates, “Oh all right, I’ll try it. But you two shoulda seen the pervert’s dong, it’s huge. Gigantic! He sprayed the window with his cum.”

“It is?” the other two shrieked.

“How big?” Amy then asked.

“Like this,” she said as she mimicked a male masturbating with two hands.

“He’s an old man, you’re dreaming,” Amy giggled.

“Beeeeeeeg,” the now laughing Samantha added.

“You slut,” Cathy laughed.

“How many have you seen to compare with anyway?” Amy demanded.

“Not that many,” young Samantha conceded with a grin.

As they laughed and talked I was soon forgotten as the three reverted to young happy coeds looking forward to the year ahead. I realized that now so was I. Knew that it was their apartment that would hold most of my attention over the next eight months.

I hadn’t slept with a slant in over thirty years. As I watched Miss Samantha Woo I knew I would soon. I was crazy hard. Masturbated again later as I watched Miss Woo unpack her underwear. Frilly laces and silks. Thongs and briefs. Boy shorts. In every color of the rainbow.


I was fifty-eight that fall, a six foot two, hundred and ninety-five pound man who still resembled the wiry seventeen year old who’d enlisted in the Army using false ID before I’d even finished high school.

Oh yeah, some gray hair and lines on my forehead. And ten pounds of extra weight. Some scars, both the ones that showed and those that don’t. But still fit. Still had a stiff cock that ached for cunt. Even in spite of the three marriages that had gone sour. All three to big titted blonds!

I went to Nam in 1966 a week after my eighteenth birthday. A virgin! That lasted all of two days. A giggling little girl, less than five foot tall, led a gangling, nervous kid up the rickety back stairs of the bar and pulled me into a dim room hardly big enough to hold the small bed that stood waiting. Dirty sheets. The girl coulda been anywhere from eighteen to thirty-six. I didn’t have a clue. Christ, did that soon change.

And it was in that dirty, smelly room that for the first time I felt a woman’s lips on my cock. Stood trembling as the kneeling, dark haired Asian moved her moist, warm tongue over my sex. Groaned in ecstasy as she somehow gobbled me down. Then spurted a load of cum that had been waiting for just this to happen all my life.

She’d been surprised at how fast I’d come, but happy to have earned her five bucks so easily. But another thirty bought her for the night. My first cunt. I came once, twice, again, a fourth time, a fifth before I finally stumbled out sated at four in the morning. Best money I’d ever spent.

And then once started I couldn’t get enough. And the little whores couldn’t get enough of the Pennsylvania country boy with the big dick who would throw down his money and fuck three or four of them each night. I was in heaven.

Young Joe Cock-her the boys in the unit used to call me…

…And then we went into the fuckin jungle. Got eaten up by leeches and insects whose names we never learned. Got shot at. Killed gooks. Lost friends we’d just made. Thought nothing of raping any peasant woman who bakırköy escort crossed our trail. Every slant was ‘Charlie’, every woman a whore.

You don’t worry too much about long term consequences if you don’t think you’re going to last the month. We were scared shitless. But also arrogant and cocky teens, mainly hard country boys who’d been told in our training to shoot first, ask questions later. Told by fancy talking instructors that the only good slant was a dead one. Or a raped one. Didn’t really matter.

The rich boys stayed home. They went to college and protested, like our last President. Oxford instead of Saigon for Billy boy. Or got medical deferments. Or got daddy to hide us in some Guard Air unit like Georgie. They weren’t eating bullets. We were. So maybe we ended up doing some things we shouldn’t have. A lot of us didn’t make it home.

I somehow made it through a first tour. The brass liked me. I could shoot, taught on my gramps knee from the time I was three, and I could survive in the jungle. Surprisingly I had a good ear for foreign languages. Intelligence induced me to stay on. So I re-upped when they offered me a spot with Intel. Wet work. Went back even a better killer in early 1969. It was all I knew or wanted. Hunt slants and fuck. Beat working the rocky soil of daddy’s farm.

Then, in late 1969 I fell in love. With two sisters! Teenage gooks with the goddam prettiest faces, the firmest little bodies, the tightest, juiciest cunts. It was just a big fucking mistake.

I’d been in the field for a month. Part of an elite unit of eight, snipers and deep penetration agents operating out of a base near the Cambodian border. Sniping. Spying. Working with the Montagnards. They’d spot for us; feed us info as we slipped back and forth over the border.

It was just a small village, maybe one hundred people, up in the hills, about twenty klicks from our base. I hadn’t even known it was there when I stumbled upon it after finishing a mission across the border. I knew though it had to be Charlie’s village…would of…probably shoulda just marked it…let the air boys blow it to smithereens. Agent Orange the bastards!

But I saw them as I moved the scope over the village from my hiding place. What the fuck were they doing there, I thought, as my cock hardened in my pants. Young stuff. Teens. Dressed in long soft, form fitting Chinese dresses. Beauties. Prettiest things I’d seen in months. Huh, what were rich city girls doing in Charlie’s peasant village? So I decided to stay and find out.

It was soon clear they lived with the village chief, his daughters I thought at first, and only later learned they were his big city brother’s daughters, sent from the dangers of Saigon to the countryside for protection. They belonged to one of those old rich Vietnamese families that played both sides of the fence, one brother (the girl’s father, simply known as ‘Big Truong’) and other assorted family members in Saigon working for the regime and their American backers while another brother (the village chief) and others helped Uncle Ho.

Not much different than rich people anywhere I guess. Protecting their asses no matter what way the war turned out even while enriching themselves on the American taxpayer’s largesse.

The two girls, Kim the eldest at nineteen, and Han, a year younger, had been up in the hills for three years, treated liked princesses by the villagers who depended on the Truong family for their livelihood.

It took me three days of watching before I finally caught them alone, found the two bathing in thin, cotton shifts in a jungle pond a half mile below the village on a steamy afternoon. Camouflaged I was able to approach within feet of where they had left the rest of clothes, then watched for minutes as they splashed joyfully in the water.

They got to within ten feet of me, dripping water, their light, wet shifts doing nothing to conceal their bodies, before the one I later learned was Kim shrieked in surprise. The two didn’t run, just stood motionless, mouths ajar, as my eyes roved over them. Their dark areolas, a good three quarter of an inch in diameter, only highlighted the nipples that stretched the light material outward.

Their sex, hidden behind dark triangles, drew my eyes downward as my penis jerked upward in my pants.

“You’re an American,” Han, the younger, finally gasped in accented English, her surprise obvious.

“What are you doing here?” Kim asked, “this is ….”

“Viet Cong territory,” I hissed, finishing her thought. There was a complete lack of modesty on their parts as they stood looking down at me.

“Yes,” Kim answered almost saucily, a spoiled, rich girl’s confidence in every word, in every movement.

I dwarfed them when I stood, my six foot two height a good foot above either of the curious girls. My blond hair, exposed when I pulled off my helmet, immediately grabbed their attention.

“He’s like a god,” Han whispered to her sister in Vietnamese, oblivious to the fact I spoke or understood their native tongue.

Giggling her sister answered, “He’s so big…do you think he’s big down there?”

“He’s so white…an ugly monster. Do you think he’s dangerous? That he might try something? Look at him. He’s looking at our bodies, our breasts. We should dress,” she said as she moved toward the pile of clothes.

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