Chapter 4

Although this can be read as a stand-alone story, a greater background and appreciation of Dr Martin and his sex adventures can be obtained by reading all the chapters.

At the office renovation site on the 14th floor, I took the Filipina MeryLu into the men’s restroom that was used by the tradesmen, then quickly closed the door behind us and turned on the light. The plasterers and electricians had left so I hoped we wouldn’t be seen. I wanted to get inside her again after our first fuck the day before and was soon running my hands all over her full curves and up between the strong thighs of her purple-clad body.

From behind her, my hands once again discovered the enjoyment offered by her responsive tits, and I dry-humped her full arse. We were there to perform a quickie as she had pleaded that she needed it now. Originally, we had come to see the days progress of my new 20-room office complex at Monash University in Melbourne. In the lift she had first started pressing herself into my groin, and being only human, my cock responded to my 1-day new, Filipina Personal Assistant. By the time we were stepping over stacks of drywall and wall studs, my cock was in her hand and I needed privacy with my PA in the restroom.

Inside the completed restroom, she knelt, opened her mouth and went down on me. Slurping away noisily, she had made sure that I had an unobstructed view of her mouth going to work on my tool at the construction site. (get the joke). Momentarily she came up for air. “George,” she whispered, as she licked my balls, “Do you want me to take you in my throat?”

I groaned, “No, we can’t. It’s dangerous here, somebody may still be on site,” which she took to be affirmative. Again, what would you do? I moaned as the 35-year-old Filipina deep-throated my rigid cock. God, she could suck cock. She had this sort of humming vibration starting in her throat that worked with her tongue to drive me crazy. I swear she loved eating cock more than food, but given the cuisine from the Philippines, maybe that is not saying much.

The skirt of her purple dress was up around her waist, and her bare boobs were jutting out over the top of the form-fitting, micro-mini outfit. She was panting hard, with her dripping tongue hanging down from her wide-open mouth, and her eyes were glazed over with raw sexuality.

“Fuck me,” she ordered. She turned around, bent forward at the waist and looked back over her shoulder at me as she raised her short dress further, so it became a purple belt around her waist. Being observant I noticed no thong. I was sure she had one on earlier. Helping her make the decision on her position was the fact that the extremely small size of the room dictated how I could fuck her. If I was to take her from behind then she would have to bend forward at the waist and place her hands on the wash basin for support, and then I could get my cock in her. I did my part and put my hands on her swaying arsecheeks and eased my prick into her waiting snatch. Eased is probably the wrong word as it slid into her wet cunt like a hot knife through butter.

“Aaaah, God,” I groaned, “That’s so good ... so fuckin’ tight.” It is hard to fuck and concentrate on making meaningful conversation at the same time. By the fourth stroke of my cock burying itself to the hilt in her sex cavern, she was cumming.

“Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh yeah, ohhhhhh!! It’s so ... uhhhhhh ... fucking ... good. Yeah. fuck meeeeeeee, harder.” I quickened my pace.

“Unnnnnnnhhhhhh why didn’t you tell me ... yoooooooohhhhhh ... are so goooood ... ohhhhhhhh ... cum inside me honeee ... ooooooooohhhhhhhh I’m cumming agaaiinn ... oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

She pushed back against me hard, moaning as her arse cheeks bounced off my belly. I reached round her rounded belly to hold her. In a few years, it would become the typical Filipina middle-aged full belly, but for now, it was still okay. I felt her body start to quiver and her arms and legs start to shake as she began to grunt. Her head jerked from side to side as she strained to catch her breath. I held her waist tightly as I felt her body violently jerk. MeryLu gasped out loud and tried to speak at the height of her orgasm but only a few incoherent sounds escaped her lips as her whole body trembled.

“Gotta have it!” she cried, slamming her arse back. “ Fuck me FUCK ME! CUM INSIDE ME,” she demanded. She ground her arse against me, pressing for every inch of cock I could give her, which in my mind was at least 10 inches though onlookers would say 6. I felt her pussy tighten as I pushed myself as far as I could up inside her. Her hips were gyrating against me as her head flew back with her mouth wide open. Her pussy gripped my cock like a vice as her hips moved. I arched my back sending a tiny bit more of my cock inside her belly.

All she did was keep her mouth wide open and moan and squeeze her own tits while I held onto her waist as tight as I could to keep her from falling backwards. Her pussy was dripping cum like a leaky faucet. I kept pushing my cock up inside her as she rocked back and forth. She gasped out loud and tried to speak at the height of her orgasm but only a few sounds escaped her lips as her whole body trembled. I thought for sure she was going to tear off my cock the way her pussy had tightened.

“Oh God ... I waaant ... unhgh ... only you ... inside me ... ooooooohhh ... when I ... fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck ... I want ... uuuuuuuuuuuugh ... you fuck ... meeeeeee.”

I proudly admit it: my cock got even bigger.

Your cock ... is growingeeeeeeeeegh ... really ... filling ... me. “Cum, honeee, cum for me! I ... gotta have ... it ... nice ... thick cuuuuum ... pour it into ... meeeeeeeeeeee.”

I strained and pushed deep. My body locked and I froze. From deep in my chest came a long, low, guttural grunting moan, that seemed to last almost a full minute, while MeryLu screamed and writhed like a banshee impaled on my cock. I felt what seemed like gallons of hot, thick, steaming cum pump rhythmically from my balls, up through the length of my cock, to spurt out in creamy, gooey jets far into the core of MeryLu’s sucking cunt.

Just a normal day at the office, I thought.

A few days earlier I had been sitting at my Taylor Llorente of London desk reading yet another of the files written by Dr Martin and found by me in the matching, expensive filing cabinet. My hand stroked my cock as I read his description of a three-way with his Japanese Personal Assistant and the wife of the head diplomat of the Consulate General of Malaysia located in South Yarra, Melbourne. My brain was filled with questions. Were women willing to do what the Monash University academic was encouraging them to attempt? Was it possible to physically do that? Why didn’t I have a Japanese P.A.?

I exploded into my THRUST Pro Elite Alicia Realistic Vagina, Ass and Tits Masturbator. Nearly $500 at LoveHoney when on special and well worth it. Although I am a computer nerd, don’t get the idea that I am some sort of virgin unable to score with women. In fact, both Atchara and Karawek at Golden Hands have said to me many times, “George. You are the best. Another 30 minutes. Only $100 for you. We give you the big man special.” See, there is the proof.

Although I had never met him before his untimely death, Dr Graham Martin was my hero. God, how I wished I could emulate him. As those of you have read in my other tributes to the good doctor posted here know, I had been employed to write up a booklet about the history of Monash University and especially how the current Chancellor of the University had revolutionised education. It was a real fluff piece with of course nothing bad about him in it, and full of exaggerations and half-truths so that he could get an Australia Day Honours award: possibly an Order of Australia medal as I was a good writer. It was a university-funded contract, so the pay was good, and I am sure the Chancellor had also ensured I was well paid because he wanted OA after his name.

I had been given some small office and from maintenance: the desk I sit out now and a matching damaged filing cabinet. It was locked but YouTube came to my aid, and I found it was filled with files. Except for stories that trace my journey to replicate Dr Martin, the pure porn that I am uploading, unaltered by me, to this site are those files. Detailed research on my part (see Chapter 2) supported the view a Dr Graham Martin had existed with a career that matched the timelines of the files and the writing in the files had a 97.89% correlation to the writing style of his diary, “A Treatise on Asian women - A life devoted to fucking Asian women and watching their sexfights.” (See Chp. 1).

Further research showed his academic career was based on falsified credentials. When breaking in one weekend to alter his grades he had caught the married Dean fucking his secretary. Blackmail, purchased qualifications from overseas institutions, and rat cunning underpinned the rapid ascent of his career. He held a position that his genuine qualification, a low-grade Arts degree specialising in Asian studies, could not have achieved and which appeared to be used only as an aid to fucking Asians and watching them sexfight and take money from the government.

I knew I wanted a life like that, but that bird had flown. His areas of speciality: getting overseas students to pay large fees to study in Australian universities, was now in the hands of business institutions, plus I had few academic qualifications and no experience in that area. The book was nearly finished, and then my contract would end.

I was testing one of my internet search algorithms married with my excellent hacking skills: I go under the name of “Mine is Bigger” when it caught my attention. I zeroed in, adjusted the parameters and just like in those comics when the light bulb appears over the character. I knew I had it.

I ran to the Monash University Chancellor’s office. Again, don’t fall into the mistake of thinking I am not a physical man. For example, a week ago when I was taking a shortcut through a park to get a low-fat milk, chai latte, I was hit by a soccer ball from an errant kick and fell to the ground. In my defence, it was very windy and my combover, thin hair which is hereditary and for which I blame my mother’s father, covered my eyes so I didn’t see the ball. After I clambered up from the ground as its force had knocked me down, I picked up the ball and threw it back to the soccer players 25 metres away and they only had to walk 15 instead of 25 to retrieve it.

Due to the importance of my written biography, as after all, the Chancellor’s legacy depended on how I rewrote history to turn him into a visionary in education, I was quickly ushered into his office. God, how I wanted one like that. Up on the top floor like a penthouse with wall-to-wall glass and 360-degree panoramas. I stopped drooling and got down to tin tacks. What I had was a tiny section from a deleted article from a first proof edition of a 25-year-old newspaper about his rival, the Chancellor of the more prestigious Melbourne University. I told you I was a good hacker. It was an allegation of sexual impropriety against him, and this was the start of the coverup.

Even the doddering fool that the Chancellor was, could see its importance after I explained it slowly 4 times. He demanded an eye for an eye and total retribution. I explained it wasn’t so much that one incident, but the potential of what I could do with my search algorithms. Then I threw in some stuff that showed Melbourne University was spreading misinformation about Monash University, and indirectly its Chancellor. I admit that took some creative manipulation, but it looked good when I presented it to him. “Those wretched swine are trying to besmirch my splendid record and legacy,” he wailed.

I walked out with a smile on my face, a lucrative full-time employment contract at Monash University as “Monash University Internet Media Outlet Coordinator”, and an office setup that, when completed would be nearly as good as his, plus various staff rooms. I think 22 lecturers and tutors had to be shifted to less salubrious accommodation to make room. But most of all when I warned him expenses may be quite high and ongoing, he replied, “Don’t worry, old boy, there are contingency reserves.” He gave a ballpark figure that could be reached before he would be worried by the bean counters, and only my martial skills obtained by both watching Kung Fu movies online and my Xbox exploits stopped me from keeling over.

“It’s the results that matter. We will fight fire with fire, my fine young compatriot. Money is not a concern.” To be called ‘old boy’ and “my fine young compatriot” in that rarified academic world where accountants are bean counters and there are besmirchments and wretched swine was to be closer than first names.

Dr Graham Martin would be envious. Perhaps his soul had passed from the mahogany wood of the desk to merge with mine. Even our initials were the same, G M: my name being George Manly, or as I told the girls at the Golden Hands, George the Man. But where to start? I needed staff. Following in the good doctor’s footsteps as I was trying to do, of course, they had to be Asians, but how to achieve this? After some Google research about Government pay structures, I started on my quest.

In my research on Dr Martin’s background, I approached records, presented my letter from the Chancellor, told them I was researching for the Chancellor’s book and asked for the information on Dr Graham Martin, whom I understood used to be an employee. I got that sneering response that all Public Servants have, “Sorry, that’s impossible now or for a few months,” meaning “Fuck off. Don’t make me do some actual work.”

I nodded my acceptance and received that superior, condescending victory smile they must practice every morning and then, turning as if I had a second thought said, “Seeing that I am here I may as well not waste my time and do the other part of my job: investigating University Admin fraud and inefficiency.” It was of course a non-existent role, but they assumed the worst.

I had a good look at the tight dress stretched across her arse as she practically ran across the open workspace to the big man’s office because there is always a big man who is above the open office space. Through the glass panels, I saw a lot of arm waving, had a bit of a wait, and finally, a thick file, accompanied by a surly glare was thrust under the glass that separated the unwashed from the elite. I gave my best smile, thanked her for her help and enquired if they had an email address where I could send my appreciation for her efforts. I heard her swearing as she stormed off.

I recalled she was a Filipina and when I presented herself at Records, she was at the counter and obviously remembered me as the greeting was, at the best, brusque, and she declined my offer to take her for coffee for an interview, stating her supervisor would not allow it. Flashing my new Chancellor’s signed authorisation, the supervisor nervously cowered before me and told MeryLu to take time off and go with me.

As we walked from my Tesla X Plaid, the luxury model, that was part of my new salary package, I studied her in the shop window reflections. She was, according to my file search, 35, and from observation was a short 5 foot 1, probably about 130 pounds. She had the beginnings of a protruding belly that would grow as she aged and was thick-arsed and thighed, though to be truthful her legs were surprisingly shapely. But overall, you would grade her as plain, but still above the league I played in. I was not overly worried as the good doctor in his files has often advised not to judge a book by its cover. The skill lay in drawing what was hidden within the cover.

Sitting opposite MeryLu I observed her flat-featured face was quite dark but youthful looking and as I dreamt of following the Doctor’s path, to my eyes she became semi-attractive, and when she smiled, not at me but at the person taking our order, it was open and friendly. Not having the esteemed Doctor’s skills, I just jumped straight in. “I am tasked by John, the Chancellor of the University, with establishing a new department.”

I saw her eyes open wide when I mentioned the Chancellor’s first name, a fact I easily obtained via Google. I am quick on the uptake, so I continued, “We ran through the details when I visited John’s house yesterday, as it gave us more time than if it was his office, even though I have priority access there.” She repeated, “At his house, priority access,” and her eyes widened further as I nodded and sort of implied that I was a regular visitor there.

“Anyway, to cut a long story short, I need staff, starting with my P.A. I remembered you, and as this job requires administrative experience and even though in a perfect world it wouldn’t be a factor, in the real world it does, the P.A. must be attractive. You obviously fit both aspects of the job profile.” As she took this in, I could see her preen and sit straighter thrusting her tits at me.

Ignoring the bit about requiring administrative experience she queried, “Are you sure. I am 35.”

I looked astounded. “35. You are joking. I would have put you at say, 28. No matter, it will just make the younger females jealous.” I struck while the iron was hot. “Now I know you are on the grade 1B pay scale, but for my P.A. I was thinking something in the grade 5 range. If you are interested, we can finish our coffee and I can show you where our offices will be. If not, no harm done as your superior has given you permission to be absent and have coffee so you can go back there and say our interview finished and I was happy with you, but he can phone to confirm.”

I had never seen coffee finished so quickly and soon we were crossing the campus to the building that housed my future office complex: the start of my empire. There were 3 lifts, and I took the furthest saying, “This one has been reprogrammed to be express to our 12th floor at the top. I am thinking of installing key access only, plus intercom override for visitors as we don’t want accidental stickybeaks. I want this department to be exclusive.” She nodded as though she understood.

While we waited for the lift, and during its journey upwards to my future fortress of sex she finally asked, “What will our department do and am I qualified enough? Even my superior is only grade 3A.”

“Well, I suppose you would say we are protecting the university’s image, though you will find out how as we progress. As my P.A. you would be my right hand. Keeping those I don’t want to see away from me, having the details of current projects on hand and available. I suppose you would be setting up appointments, that sort of stuff. You know, the no secrets between us sort of stuff. Also, there will be certain personal, parallel associated, beneficial activities that I would prefer the university not to know of.”

She picked it up immediately. “Do you mean there is side money in it for you?”

“Us,” I corrected her not mentioning that if it occurred it would be a 98/2 split and continued. “We will be dealing with extremes in society: from millionaires and top Government officials to less savoury characters on the street whom we perhaps meet in a brothel or strip bar. I would need my P.A. to fit in. Of course, you would have a clothes allowance of approximately 3000 a month, though I understand if either of those scenarios worries you and you don’t want the job.” She shook her head and said, “I would try and fit in everywhere.”

“Then there are the hours. Sometimes we will be working very little, but often the days will be long and there will be interstate and overseas travel, often at short notice.” Knowing full well that MeryLu was divorced I asked, “How would your husband react to that?”

“I am divorced.” I acted shocked and said that I didn’t believe a woman like her would be single.

“Filipina husbands just want a cook and house cleaner and a broodmare for their kids. Sex is reserved for the young slut they have outside the marriage or their daughters after they are 18. They are clever. They wait till they are 18 so they can’t be blackmailed. And no one my age would be looked at by any Filipino man. Too old for them.”

Even though I smiled inside, I expressed sympathy. As though reconcentrating on what I was saying I said, “I suppose the final thing in the job would be staff control. All the staff would be female because they are more security conscious than males but that will lead to a certain rivalry for promotion, even attempts to work their way to P.A.”

She cut me off. “No fucking bitch will take my job as your P.A. away from me.” I took that as a job acceptance and said, hoping, as I was new to this, I wasn’t progressing too fast, “If you like we can talk further tonight, maybe at The Rockpool Bar and Grill.”

“I’ve seen that Rockpool chef Neil Perry on TV, but I’ve got no good clothes to wear there,” she asked with a worried look like a kid about to have his second piece of Christmas cake taken away.

“No problems. We will go shopping now and I will email your superior saying you are now on my staff.”

That night we strolled down to Southbank and the restaurant. MeryLu had a new tight, red, nightclub, halter dress on that just reached the base of her arse cheeks and high heels that were the length of my middle finger. The spandex in the fabric meant it moulded to her body as though it was painted on emphasising the shape of her belly and tits. We had dinner, and despite worrying how I didn’t have to do anything, because suddenly we were in a hotel room.

She knelt in front of me and slowly unbuttoned my trousers so that my prick hung out. She licked my balls and up the shaft to the cock head and kissed it. I was brick hard in a second, and she held my cock in one hand and checked it out, commenting how it was just made for sucking. She dropped to her knees, inhaled my cock and I discovered this middle-aged Filipina package had the most awesome mouth I had ever encountered. She was the best cock sucker my prick ever had the pleasure of being sucked by. Yes, even better than the Thais at Golden Hands whose price went up to $250 for mouth relief. Previously, I had thought that was 3 minutes well spent.

My new P.A. did magical things to my prick with her mouth, her tongue was all over my cock while she was sucking on it, and it didn’t take very long before I was ready to blow my load. She grabbed my arse with both hands, told me to give it to her and clamped her mouth down on my prick to make sure I came in her mouth.

My cock had never swelled to that size before, not even watching Pornhub or talking with understanding online cam girls, and I put my head back, moaned and groaned as I shot my first load of cum into a Filipina’s mouth. She never flinched, just kept her mouth glued to my cock as she swallowed every drop of my load and licked my cock afterwards to make sure she got it all.

She stood back up, and asked “How is that compared to the women you have fucked before?”

I reassured her she was the best and she got on top of me and said, “That was the just start. I want my boss to fuck his P.A. very often, starting now.”

Breathing deeply as I recovered, I replied, “Give me a few minutes: I’m not as young as I used to be.”

She smiled and replied, “We’ll see about that.” MeryLu put both hands on my spent cock, wiping off our juices. She licked her lips and then proceeded to suck me back to life. She had the whole thing down her throat, and for a minute I thought she was going to swallow my whole cock. God, she was gifted, and with the bonus of watching some porn on the room TV, my fuck meat was brought back from the dead and standing at attention, roughly 15 minutes after I had shot my jizz into her mouth.

She wanted it in her now, if not earlier, but I remembered the words of Dr Martin. Give the woman pleasure and it will be returned tenfold. I decided to go down on her and try to give her an orgasm with my tongue. I began tongue fucking her, sticking it in and burying my face in her snatch as much as possible. And don’t forget I was a nerd. In that fantastic 80s movie “The Revenge of the Nerds”, Nerd Lewis said after he had fucked the head jock Stan Gable’s girlfriend Betty Childs and she said he was wonderful, “All Jocks ever think about is sports, all we ever think about is sex.” I agree.