Cummy on Tummy (Part #3)

This is the third and final part of the "Cummy on Tummy" trilogy: A trip into town to buy gifts leads Eddie and Anthony to a much different type of brothel.

This is the third and final part of the “Cummy on Tummy” trilogy. The first two stories dealt with a group of 45 recently graduated engineering students who all accept two-year contracts to work in Cambodia circa 1994, a country that is trying to rebuild itself after decades of communist devastation. The engineers live collectively in something akin to an army barracks. They are generally happy, but they sorely miss female companionship. Their interpreter, C.J., suggests a group visit to his favorite house of ill fame, one quaintly nicknamed Cummy on Tummy because of its policy of rewarding its customers with tokens if they ejaculate on their hookers rather than in their pussies. (Of course, the policy is to prevent unwanted pregnancies.) Two tokens equal a free romp. This story picks up the narrative shortly after the 45 lusty engineers have finished their second outing to the Cummy on Tummy brothel. As in the first two installments, Eddie Nelson, one of the engineers, is the first-person narrator.

Part One

It was the Tuesday night following our large group’s second bus trip to sample the delights of the sexy girls at Cummy on Tummy when C.J., our interpreter, brought a message for us all. C.J. announced the missive was from the manager of our favorite brothel. For a moment we all feared that something had gone amiss and we were in trouble. It turned out to be just the opposite. It had been written in the Khmer language, but C.J. had translated it into English for us. He read the letter aloud:

“Dear engineers,

“I and the employees here at the brothel want to thank you for your patronage thus far. It is very unusual for a busload of 45 customers to show up at once—and you have done it twice. I understand that you will be making a return trip this Saturday afternoon, too. We all look forward to your arrival. I especially thank you for the advance notice so we can prepare for such a large number of clients.

“I am personally impressed that you organize yourselves into groups of 15 before you arrive and further agree to an orderly selection process. It would certainly be very chaotic if all 45 of you tried to be first in line to choose a girl! I am happy to report that we have not had a single problem with any one of you. The girls all say you are a gentlemanly bunch, which they greatly appreciate. Thank you all!

“I realize that almost all of you have accrued two tokens that you will want to redeem on your next visit. Congratulations! It is not necessary, but somewhat customary, that when a client redeems his two tokens that he provides a small gift to his girl. We have bars of chocolate, boxes of sweets, assorted items of women’s clothing and beauty products for sale at the brothel. If you are so inclined, these make excellent gifts for our employees.

“We look forward to seeing all of you again this Saturday!

“Yours truly, P.K. Tranh, manager.”

“I knew there would be a catch to these tokens!” one grumpy engineer said.

“Come on! Have you noticed how cheaply things are priced in this country?” I asked him. “You are complaining about a small expense. I’m more than happy to go along with the custom. The two girls I’ve bedded so far have been utterly fantastic. I don’t mind a bit splurging on them to show my appreciation.

“I totally agree with Eddie,” my friend Anthony noted. “I suggest we go the extra mile to make the girls happy. If we each contribute three or four dollars, I bet we could buy 20 new sets of shorts, t-shirts and socks for those girls—one set for every girl seated on the stage. Some of them wear very old garments. I think they’d be thrilled with such a gift. And when they’re happy with us…they’ll show their appreciation to us. Need I go on?”

We all thought Anthony’s suggestion was a splendid one. C.J. knew of a clothing store that carried just the items that we wanted. It was in a different town than Cummy on Tummy was located in, however. C.J. offered to accept the cash we pooled and do our shopping for us on Wednesday, but he admitted buying women’s clothing was a little bit out of his comfort zone. Anthony and I both had sisters and female cousins, so at least we had some idea about which items went together. Therefore, we volunteered to do all the shopping as long as C.J. could arrange the transportation. A phone call got him a government car to borrow for the errand. After work on Wednesday, the three of us would delay our trip home to shop for clothing for 20 women. I never thought I’d be doing that at any point in my life!

Part Two

As scheduled, a car was delivered to the location where C.J., Anthony and I had been working since the 45 of us had first arrived in Cambodia. I was oddly looking forward to doing the shopping for the girls’ gifts. It was something of a novelty for me. Anthony felt the same way, too.

The drive to the clothing store was a bit bumpy, but the imperfect roads were something we had gotten used to in our first month overseas. I had collected $4 from each of the engineers, so I had a budget of $180 to work with. Upon entering the store, I noticed the clothing was all North American, but it was deemed unsellable there for various reasons and was likely acquired at bargain-basement prices. Some of the shorts had tiny, barely noticeable tears in them. Some of the t-shirts were outdated, advertising things that had already happened, like the previous year’s Texas State Fair and some Super Bowls from the 1980s. We tried to find flaws in the white socks, but neither Anthony nor I could see anything obviously wrong with them. Together we compiled 20 ensembles of different styles and sizes at a cost of $152. The two of us arbitrarily decided the remaining $28 would be used to buy chocolate treats for the girls on Saturday. Like most men, we did not dawdle when we shopped. We were far ahead of schedule when we met C.J. at the car and placed our purchases into the trunk.

“I don’t have to return the car for another three hours,” C.J. noted. “Want to kill some time partaking in your favorite pastime?” There was a cheeky grin on his face. Obviously, C.J. was referring to whoring.

“There are half a dozen houses of ill repute within walking distance of this car,” he said while tapping its hood. “Of course, your tokens from Cummy on Tummy are no good at any of them, so it will be a cash transaction wherever we might end up.”

“We? You’d be getting laid, too, C.J.? Is that correct?” I asked him, feigning surprise. He had happily joined in the fun both times we had outings at Cummy on Tummy.

“Sure!” C.J. replied with alacrity. “I like sex as much as any male does. Some of these small places don’t get much business, so the price for a hooker will be even cheaper than usual—and the girls will be quite eager to please us.”

“It’s good to see that you are just a regular fellow, C.J.,” Anthony commented. “I respect that.”

C.J. did not offer a response. I ended the silence by saying, “I have plenty of cash in my wallet. Lead the way, C.J.” He did.

Part Three

We only had to walk slightly more than a block before we came to a small house that had three scantily clad young women sitting on a homemade wooden bench near its door. They said nothing as we got closer, but a male spokesman who was standing nearby successfully guessed why the three of us were out for a stroll. In fairly good English, he pointed to the females and collectively asked us, “Want to fuck one of them? Only $5. If you just want a blowjob, that’s just $3.”

C.J. saw that Anthony and I were at least moderately interested in fucking them, so he whispered to us, “Let’s see what I can negotiate. Let me do the talking.” Anthony and I happily let C.J. negotiate business. He did not use English in his conversation with the man. It was a brief discussion.

Less than a minute later, C.J. stated, “I think I got us a good deal. We get all three girls for $7 each—a total of $21—and we can do whatever we want with them for 90 minutes. Nothing is off limits. What do you two say?”

Anthony asked, “Which of the three girls do I get?”

C.J. smiled and said, “Perhaps I did not state that as clearly as I could have. Let me re-phrase that: We all get to share all three girls at the same time! You can fuck one and when you are done, you can trade her for mine or Eddie’s. It’s all for the low price of $7 each. Do you understand now?

Anthony and I immediately opened our wallets and produced exactly $7 in American funds. The man led the six of us to a special square room down a flight of stairs that was perhaps 30 feet by 30 feet. There were three large mattresses in the middle of it. They were separated, but the man showed how they could easily be pushed together—if that was what we wanted. (It was clearly what C.J. wanted because he told the man to leave the new arrangement as it was.) Anthony and I gave C.J. our payment. He gave the man $21. He smiled at us and said, “Have fun doing 90 minutes of boom-boom together!” He shut the door tightly behind him when he departed.

“You are certainly a wilder fellow than I expected, C.J.!” I declared. This six-person sexual romp was obviously new to Anthony and me, so we looked toward the quiet but worldly C.J. for guidance.

“Just take one of the girls by the hand, set her on one of the mattresses, and have at her!” he stated. “Once you are done with her, wait for another couple to be done, and switch partners. Or we might think of other ways of enjoying ourselves. We can be as creative as we like with these girls. They do this sort of odd sexual stuff all the time. It’s normal for them. By this time tomorrow they’ll have forgotten all about us.”

I got the message and took the hand of a medium-sized girl who appeared to be about 20 years old. “I’ll attempt to make this one remember me when she’s a grandmother,” I said hopefully. Her faded blue t-shirt did not conceal that she was a well-built girl. She was not nearly as pretty as the two girls I had bedded at Cummy on Tummy, but I figured her face was not going to merit much attention from me. Her other bodily parts were definitely calling!

For the time being, I ignored what Anthony and C.J. doing nearby with their girls. I undressed in record time, so fast that my hooker was still in her bra and panties when I was buck naked. I advanced on her and placed my arms around her thin waist. I gently set her on the mattress, undid the clasp of her slightly-too-small beige brassiere and yanked down her pink panties. She was quite stunning lying naked on the mattress as I towered over her with lust in my eyes
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At the Cummy on Tummy brothel, I made a point of trying to be a gentleman when I engaged in sexual activities. Here, however, I got the idea that hard fucking, pure and simple, was the norm and was exactly what these harlots expected from their clients. I obliged.

I rammed the middle finger of my right hand into her pussy without much subtlety. I kept doing that while I roughly played with her sizable tits, squeezing them and strongly sucking on her prominent nipples. I was immediately hard, so I quickly put my erection to use, replacing my finger in her vagina with my manhood. I slid my body on top of hers and began to thrust in and out with a purpose. I guess my purpose was to ejaculate as quickly as possible so I could do the same thing to the two other hookers in the room—whom I noticed were also being ridden by my friends.

C.J. advised us, “This isn’t Cummy on Tummy, guys. There’s no reason to pull out when you come. Give them what you’ve got.”

I wanted to check to see if C.J. was accurate. I momentarily stopped my vigorous fucking for a moment and asked the girl I was riding, “Cummy in pussy?”

To my surprise she nodded, smiled, and replied, “Yes, mister, please come in our pussies. We all like.” I didn’t know how she could speak for all three girls about something so intimate, but it was as if she had said a magic word. Within 30 seconds all three of us had strongly ejaculated. Not a drop of semen could be seen, though. Our love seed was all deeply planted in our respective girls.

To be friendly, C.J. had a little post-coital chat with his girl and discovered that they were all birds of a feather, so to speak. Our three strumpets were sisters! Moreover, their manager who had negotiated financial terms with C.J. was their older brother! For a moment, I stopped to consider that I had three younger sisters located halfway around the world. I couldn’t imagine myself pimping them under any circumstances. However, my conscience acting up was only a fleeting distraction. There were still two girls in the room I was entitled to know very intimately, so my attention was quickly drawn back to the fine pastime of whoring.

The males quickly agreed to do a clockwise rotation. Each wasted no time ravishing the next girl waiting for him. My second trollop wasn’t quite as busty as the first one, but she seemed a little prettier than the girl who took my load so willingly. After several ways of conjoining ourselves, the side-by-side or “spoons” method suited us best. Her pussy seemed to be custom-built just for my penis. I launched a blast into her vagina, too. I was “done” quicker than my two colleagues so I just passed the time by groping and sucking on my girl’s appealing breasts. I could not help but notice that C.J. wasn’t especially well endowed, but he did his best with what he had, which is all any man can do when the time comes.

When Anthony and C.J. were ready for the final girl swap, it devolved into a bit of chaos. It was all Anthony’s fault—which he readily admitted. Because the girls were similar in appearance with their clothes off, Anthony lost track of which sisters he had or hadn’t already screwed. He ended up receiving fellatio from the remaining sister on my dance card—while I was penetrating her doggie-style. C.J. exploited the situation by having fun with the other two sister simultaneously. He contentedly lied on the mattress while one sister rode him and the other covered his face with her big jugs. Our translator was a resourceful fellow who knew how to have fun.

When the 90-minute session ended, I was thoroughly exhausted and so were my two traveling companions. We sincerely thanked the three cooperative girls very much for their excellent horizontal services, got dressed, and headed back to the car. I wearily plopped myself onto the backseat beside Anthony.

“I’m concerned,” I declared.

“Why?” asked Anthony in a tired voice.

“I had three ejaculations. They felt great, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll have recovered sufficiently by Saturday afternoon for our group outing to Cummy on Tummy. Honestly, I’ve never felt as tired in my life as I am this very moment. It feels like my balls have been completely drained.” I skipped the evening meal that had been saved for the three-man shopping crew and went straight to bed. Anthony did the same. We both learned that tag-team whoring for an hour and a half in a small Cambodian brothel could be a strength-sapping workout.

Fortunately, a healthy 24-year-old has wonderful recuperative powers that effect all parts of his anatomy. By Saturday afternoon at the usual time, I was eager to board the charter bus for Cummy on Tummy. I felt reloaded for action. I was especially eager to present our gifts to the girls. The manager had been apprised that the 45 engineers were going to bring “some gifts” for the brothel’s employees, so he made sure the full staff was present (and unoccupied with walk-in clients) when we showed up. Anthony and I were the last to get off the bus and also last to enter the building. We were carrying two large cardboard boxes that held all the clothing we had purchased on Wednesday.

The girls were delighted! They formed a line to hug all 45 of us. That was a fun and endearing gesture! Anthony and I openly laughed when they started trading items with each other. Apparently, our ideas about fashion sense and what pieces went best together were not very accurate. (I’m sure any of my three sisters would have caught and corrected our errors.) We also sensed potential trouble: The brothel’s manager was a little bit miffed because we had made our clothing purchase elsewhere, but his mood changed when we bought $28 worth of chocolate from him as secondary presents for our wonderful and affectionate bedmates.

That afternoon, the lottery slotted me in the third wave with the fourteenth pick. In other words, I was 44th out of 45 engineers to select a sex partner. Clutching my two accrued tokens from previous Saturdays, I chose a small shy girl who had a nice figure for her small size. She wore ID #11; I had not noticed her before. She was terrific! She enjoyed hugging and kissing as much as fucking. I merrily did the latter—and followed the “cummy on tummy” rule twice, but I allowed her to express her affections in the way she liked best.

During one long embrace, she sweetly said to me in excellent English, “Thank you for the gift of clothing, mister. We like all you young engineers very much. You are gentlemen of the highest order. You are building friendships here.”

I thought that was a brilliant comment. I mentioned it to my colleagues as we rode the bus home. They agreed it was an apt saying. We quickly had a large sign made that was placed on an outside wall of our barracks. It read, “Engineers also build friendships.” We had the same phrase printed on business cards. In the two years the 45 of us were employed in Cambodia, we distributed more than 5,000 of them.