We'd been backpacking for a couple weeks and had just made our way out of a haze of cannabis, cheap beer and diazepam in the dense Cambodian jungle. I'd just gotten used to Cambodia, a relatively small, fairly undeveloped country, and the crossing into Vietnam was a huge culture shock. Suddenly there were thousands and thousands of people everywhere, the infrastructure and roads gradually improved, and soon tall buildings began to rise around the bus we were riding.
The highways converged, and nests of electric wiring began to appear at intersections. It was clear we were approaching a city of a size wholely outside my prior experience. The sounds and smells and sights of the metropolis of Saigon were a journey of their own. It took almost half a day to get from the outskirts to the centre of town, where we had planned to stay.
We had chosen the hostel effectively by means of dart-throw. There was nothing special about it really, besides it being central, cheap and having seperate beds for myself and my friend. We were in our very early 20s, two Europeans in Asia for the first time.
The hostel was basic but that was the goal. We needed a place to rest and, well, bring women back to if possible. We checked in at the desk and a tiny woman came out to greet us. She smiled and laughed while showing us around our rooms and explaining that meals were included and so on. We asked about the local nightlife, mainly looking for other travellers, and were directed to a nearby restaurant where foreigners often congregated. I went upstairs to change into something more suited to going out, while my friend waited downstairs in the lobby.
We set off for the restaurant, and found the place charming enough. We ate a small meal and set about the important work of getting completely loaded out of our minds as per the routine at this point. Quickly we found ourselves in the midst of the traditional group of Aussie backpackers who congregate around every drinking hole in the tropics. Lounging on cushions strewn about the terrace opening onto the street we watched fire breathers blast bright streaks of flame into the night air while inhaling balloons of overpriced nitrous oxide from a dodgy English guy who seemed to have made this his career. My friend turned to me and said:
"Do you remember that woman from the hostel?"
I nodded.
"She tried to hit on me while you were upstairs"
"The Vietnamese girl? They're not interested in us." I giggled drunkenly, and went back to trying to pull the Aussie girl I'd had my lone, cooperating eye on.
The night wore on and I grew more and more convinced of my impending romantic conquest. That is until she flatly informed me their group was leaving in the morning and they'd be hitting the sack early. Her own sack, specifically.
My spirits deflated faster than the nitrous balloons I'd sucked the life out of two hours earlier, as I resigned myself to a wank at best before the night was out. We began the long, lonely trek back to the hostel which, surprisingly was still open with the lights on, albeit behind a metal shutter. We hit the doorbell and waited until the hostess came down to let us in. She was wrapped in a dressing gown with the belt lazily drawn around her waist, revealing a smooth nightgown, and golden-brown skin beneath. I wondered for a moment if my friend hadn't been bluffing about her proposition, but quickly forgot this when I remembered that my double vision didn't equal two women.
To our surprise she began to make us drinks. I was already deep in the pit of intoxication and naturally the solution to this in my beer addled brain was further alcohol. I cheerfully accepted a glass of some foul spirit best reserved for degreasing engine parts. I saw the traces of makeup around her eyes and realised she had probably arrived back from a bar not long before us. She asked if we were brothers, prompting our laughter. We didn't look particularly similar but... perhaps it was our beards, I do not know.
The three of us sat in conversation which regrettably my memory does not preserve, beyond the sound of her laughter, the knowing glances of lust we began to share, and the feeling of warmth that came from her hand crawling into my lap.
The three of us spilled into our shared room, a ball of hands, lips, contrasting skin. The full length mirror served to fix an image into my mind I can't forget. Two pale bodies, towering over a bronze goddess, our white hands intertwined with her dark hair. We stood a full head taller than her yet her energy seemed to fill the room.
I drunkenly fumbled with my clothes until I'd freed myself, and on turning she had already knelt down. I wondered if she'd done this before... her enthusiasm as we fed her our cocks made me think it was a first.
She did her best to please us with her mouth alone but soon we were exploring her throat, the residue of her mascara cascading down her cheeks. My friend lifted her in the air and we stood opposite one another, then together lowered her onto our cocks.
I'd never done this before but we found a rhythm fast, throwing her up and letting her fall down, each drop plunging our cocks into her waiting holes. I'll be the first to admit I came fast, and soon we were all sprawled in my bed, panting. I finished her off with my fingers while she lay between us, and we slept the night through, laying naked as the day we were born in the humid Saigon air.
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