Old Tu in Sai Gon
Copyright© 2026 by duhless_90
Chapter 32
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 32 - At seventy-two, Old Tu leaves a forgotten village for Saigon after inheriting a rundown rental block. He comes looking for his lost children, but finds debt, lonely women, gangsters, shame, desire, and a city that will not let an old man stay dead inside.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged Hypnosis NonConsensual Rape Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Humor Rags To Riches Restart Tear Jerker Workplace Cheating Wife Watching Incest Father Daughter InLaws Humiliation Rough Spanking Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Squirting Voyeurism Public Sex Size Caution Revenge Slow Violence
Right then, from deep inside the house came the voice of the little boy, Old Tu’s grandson, calling out, thick with sleep:
“Mom ... Mom...”
Van’s boy had woken in the middle of the night. He did not see his mother, so he called.
Van was collapsed on the bed in Old Tu’s room. She jolted awake. She panicked and sat bolt upright, semen still pooled inside her pussy and running down her thigh. She had no time to put on panties. She hurriedly pulled her skirt down, hair a mess, and rushed out of Old Tu’s room to go back to her child.
Old Tu was still standing in the hallway, right in front of Vy’s door. He startled too, hurriedly zipped up his pants, covering his still-hard cock, then backed quickly toward his own room, pretending he had just come out.
As for Vy, she was lying on the bed with her legs spread, her hand still wet with pussy juice. Hearing the child cry, she panicked. She quickly pulled her hand out, straightened her clothes, lay face-down on the pillow, and pretended to sleep. Her heart pounded. Her face burned hot.
Just one call from the child made all three of them wake up completely at once. The filthy air from a moment before was cut off cold.
Van ran into her child’s room and held him, soothing him, but her legs were still trembling. Old Tu’s thick semen kept leaking from her pussy slit, soaking the edge of her skirt.
Old Tu stood in the hallway a few more seconds, breathing hard, then quietly turned back into his room.
Vy lay in her room, eyes wide open in the dark, unable to sleep again.
That morning, Quoc was loading goods in the warehouse when Nhung called him.
She stood outside the warehouse door, her jacket zipped up, her face showing little expression. Quoc set the box down, dusted off his hands, and walked over.
Nhung said she had some business and wanted him to go with her.
Quoc said yes.
After more than a month there, Quoc had learned to ride a motorbike. He took the bike, waited for Nhung to sit on, then rode out of the company. The whole way, he said nothing. Nhung sat behind him, one hand resting lightly on the seat, eyes on the road.
After they had gone quite far, Nhung finally spoke:
“Aren’t you wondering why I called you to come?”
Quoc looked straight ahead.
“I am. But if you want to tell me, you’ll tell me.”
Nhung was quiet for a moment, then said:
“Yeah. That quiet mouth, that tight tongue, that way of not being nosy. That’s why I wanted you along.”
She told Quoc to take her to the Ma Lang area.
The bike turned into a narrow alley. The deeper they went, the heavier the smell of damp mold, old trash, and cigarette smoke became. This alley was not like ordinary alleys. On both sides of the road were people who looked like addicts, standing scattered everywhere as if waiting in line. Their eyes were dull. Their bodies were thin to the bone. Some leaned against the wall. Some squatted on the ground. They watched Quoc’s bike pass and said nothing.
Farther inside, the alley opened into a small yard. There stood a group of tattooed gang men. Some were skinny as sticks, collarbones jutting out, faces hollow. Some were fat, bellies tight under T-shirts, gold chains around their necks. Several pairs of eyes all turned to look at Quoc and Nhung.
Nhung told Quoc to stop.
He turned off the engine and planted one foot on the ground. Nhung got down first, straightened her jacket, and walked straight in. Quoc followed half a step behind, his eyes sweeping quickly over the men in front of him.
Nhung lowered her head to greet the fat man and said she had come to see Uncle Vinh.
The fat man looked at her once, then jerked his chin inward.
Nhung stepped inside.
Quoc was about to follow when someone blocked him. A tattooed arm barred his chest. Quoc stopped, did not react, only stood outside the door and looked in.
Inside was a room completely different from the outside. Clean floor. Dark wooden table and chairs. Air conditioner humming lightly. No noise, no garbage smell, none of those drifting faces out in the alley.
Only that man sitting there smoking.
Mr. Vinh wore a suit. Bald head, fat body. His fat was not like the fat man outside the door. He sat still, but the whole room seemed pressed down by the way he sat. One hand held a cigarette. One hand rested on the arm of the chair.
He watched Nhung walk in and did not stand.
“I refused the other day already. Now you’re here again?”
Nhung stood in front of him, head slightly lowered.
Mr. Vinh took a drag of his cigarette, then lifted his eyes.
“I have no need to cooperate with your side.”
Nhung looked at him.
“Then what do you want?”
Mr. Vinh did not answer right away. He only patted the chair beside him.
Nhung stood still for one beat.
Then she walked over and sat beside him.
Quoc stood outside the door and clearly saw Nhung’s back straighten. She did not turn her head. The man blocking the door still stood close by, not letting him take another step.
Inside, Mr. Vinh leaned over and tapped ash into the crystal ashtray on the table. The smell of smoke drifted all the way to the door.
He spoke slowly:
“Hoang didn’t come today and only told you to come. Guess he understands what I mean, huh?”
Nhung went slightly quiet.
Mr. Vinh put his hand on Nhung’s thigh.
His hand was heavy, slow, in no hurry. Nhung still sat still, eyes lowered to the table. Quoc saw the movement clearly, but his face did not change.
Mr. Vinh looked at Nhung, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Why not come work for me?”
Mr. Vinh looked at Nhung for a while, then said she had two choices.
One was to agree to become his third wife. Then he would cooperate with Hoang’s side. Two was that she still had to pay the price right here in this room, and the boys outside would get their share too. He said they had noticed her since the last time she came by.
Mr. Vinh asked:
“What do you think?”
Nhung sat still.
Her face did not change, but the hand on her knee tightened very slightly. She looked down at the floor, her voice low and even:
“Since I was little, I have been Hoang’s person.”
Mr. Vinh heard that and went silent for a few seconds.
Then he stood up.
The leather chair behind him gave a heavy creak. He looked at Nhung like looking at an object already placed on the table, with no more questions needed.
Outside the door, the underlings started stirring. One sneered. One whistled. One slapped the door, shouting like he was waiting to watch something fun.
Quoc stood outside, his eyes going dark.
The man at the door still blocked him. Quoc did not move, but his jaw clenched hard. Inside, Nhung still sat there, back straight, face cold, as if one move from her would make everything burst apart.
Mr. Vinh bent down to look at her, his voice sinking:
“Then do it.”
Nhung lifted her head and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were not afraid and did not beg. There was only exhaustion and endurance. She slowly stood, her hand shaking very slightly as she unzipped her jacket. The jacket fell onto the chair.
Mr. Vinh did not hurry. He sat back down in the chair, legs spread wide, his fat cock already sticking up out of his pants. He patted his thigh once, signaling.
Nhung clenched her teeth, stepped over, and knelt between Mr. Vinh’s legs. She reached out and took the hot cock in her hand, lowered her head, opened her mouth, and took the head in. The wet sucking sounds rose again in the quiet room.
Mr. Vinh let out a pleased breath, one hand stroking Nhung’s hair, the other taking another drag of the cigarette. He blew smoke toward the ceiling, his voice hoarse:
“Do it well. I know you suck cock good. The last time Hoang sent you here, I already knew.”
Nhung did not answer. She only silently took him deeper. Saliva ran from the corner of her mouth down to her chin. Mr. Vinh began moving his hips, pushing his cock deep into Nhung’s throat, making her choke softly.
“Suck deeper.”
He did not wait for Nhung to prepare. He pressed her head down hard. The short fat cock went deeper into Nhung’s mouth, the head hitting straight against the back of her throat. Nhung was caught off guard. Her eyes bulged, her throat clenching violently.
“Uh ... uh...!”
Choking sounds came from her throat. Saliva spilled from both corners of her mouth, running in streams down her chin, dripping to the floor. Mr. Vinh did not let go. He kept pressing Nhung’s head all the way down to the root, letting his cock sink completely into her throat.
“Good ... that’s Hoang’s woman’s mouth all right. Swallow deeper.”
He held the position for more than ten seconds, enjoying the feeling of Nhung’s throat squeezing around the head. Nhung’s hands dug into his thighs, tears spilling out, her body shaking from lack of air. Only when she began to struggle did Mr. Vinh release her.
Nhung lifted her head and coughed hard, dry coughs coming one after another. A long strand of spit stretched from her mouth down to Mr. Vinh’s cock, making sticky threads. Her face was flushed red, tears all over it, but she did not complain once.
Mr. Vinh sneered, ran his hand along the cock soaked with Nhung’s saliva, then pressed her head down again, this time even harder:
“Keep going. Don’t stop. Suck me good and then I’ll think about cooperation.”
Nhung panted for a few breaths, then opened her mouth and took the cock again. This time she tried to swallow deeper, tried to hold back the choking, her mouth sucking without stopping. Mr. Vinh closed his eyes, breathing out in pleasure, his hand still holding Nhung’s hair and rhythmically pressing her head up and down.
Quoc stood outside the door and saw all of it. His face went dark. His jaw clenched so tight it trembled. But he still said nothing, only stood still like a statue.
Mr. Vinh gripped Nhung’s hair tight, thrusting his hips up hard from below. Each time, he pushed his fat cock all the way into her throat. Nhung’s eyes were red, tears running down, but she did not resist. She could only open her mouth as wide as possible and let him use it like a pussy.
“Good ... tight as hell ... Hold still like that...”
Mr. Vinh panted, his thrusts growing faster. His cock moving in and out of Nhung’s mouth made wet, choking sounds. Her saliva ran all over her chin, down her neck, soaking the chest of her shirt.
He pressed Nhung’s head down close and held her still, not letting her move. His cock lay so deep in her throat that Nhung’s neck bulged clearly. Mr. Vinh gritted his teeth, both legs going stiff:
“Swallow ... swallow it all ... I’m coming!”
A thick hot stream of semen shot straight down Nhung’s throat. Mr. Vinh gave one long hoarse groan, hips jerking in bursts, shooting dense spurts deep into her mouth. Nhung choked. Her throat clenched again and again. She tried to swallow, but some white semen still spilled out from both corners of her mouth and ran down.
Mr. Vinh kept holding Nhung’s head like that for more than ten seconds, shooting out the last drops before he finally let go.
Nhung coughed hard, dry and violent. She coughed until tears and snot both ran out. Thick semen stuck all around her mouth, on her chin, dripping to the floor. She panted, forcing herself to swallow the semen still left in her mouth, her face red and messy.
Mr. Vinh leaned back in the chair, his cock still hard and glossy with saliva and semen, watching Nhung with satisfied eyes.
“Swallowed it clean? Show me.”
Nhung raised her face and opened her mouth for him to check. Mr. Vinh sneered and nodded, pleased.
He stroked her hair once, his voice hoarse:
“Good ... Now climb up here. Sit on my cock and bounce.”
Nhung wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes still red. Though her heart was full of bitterness, she still obediently stood and prepared to take off more clothing so she could climb onto him as ordered.
Right then, Quoc suddenly shouted from outside the door:
“STOP!!!”
His shout rang through the whole alley. Mr. Vinh, Nhung, and all the underlings outside turned sharply to look at him.
The gang men rushed forward at once, several tattooed ones raising their hands to hit Quoc. But Quoc stood still where he was, his voice loud and clear, not shaking:
“Sister Nhung doesn’t need to do that! He will definitely take our goods!”
The underlings froze. Mr. Vinh frowned, looking at Quoc with icy eyes.
Quoc kept speaking loudly, each word clear, calm:
“Look at all those addicts outside. There are that many because this place is out of supply. If that crowd keeps hanging around for just one or two more days, this whole neighborhood will be reported. The police will storm in. Sister Nhung doesn’t need to do this for cooperation. On the contrary, he is the one who needs us.”
Nhung heard that and came awake. She immediately stepped back, pulled down her dress, and glared at Mr. Vinh with hatred.
Mr. Vinh was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed loudly:
“Ha ha ha! Not bad, little punk! Good eye.”
He stood, his cock still hard and slick with semen and saliva, not bothering to pull up his pants. He stepped in front of Nhung, completely naked from the waist down, and held out his hand to shake hers in the posture of a man who had just finished coming.
“Happy cooperation.”
Nhung hesitated for a moment, but in the end she still reached out and shook his hand. Her face was cold.
Mr. Vinh smirked:
“That little punk is right. I’m badly short on goods. The addicts outside are about to riot. Tomorrow or the next day, bring the goods here. I’ll take all of it and let you distribute in this area. But remember ... next time, don’t send a pretty woman like this again. I have a hard time holding back.”
He glanced at Quoc with interest, then laughed loudly again.
On the way back, Nhung sat very quietly behind the bike.
The wind blew against them, sending her hair loose along both cheeks. Quoc rode slower than when they came. He did not ask anything else. The Ma Lang alley had fallen behind, but the smell of damp mold, cigarette smoke, shouting, and those people’s eyes still clung inside his head.
After they had gone a while, Nhung said:
“Thank you.”
Quoc did not turn his head.
“Yes.”
“I was right to choose you to come with me.”
Quoc looked straight at the road ahead.
“I came to protect you.”
Nhung gave a small laugh. A little hoarse, unclear whether she was happy or tired. She reached out and touched his hip, squeezing lightly.
“Skinny like this, what can you do?”
Quoc answered at once:
“I can do plenty, Sister.”
Nhung laughed again.
“Then let’s eat something. My treat.”
Quoc nodded.
Nhung looked down at her clothes, her eyes turning a little cold.
“But we should buy it and take it back. I need to change.”
Quoc took Nhung to buy food, then followed her directions to a three-story house in a wider alley. The house had been divided up for rent, with a black-painted iron door, clean stairs, and bright lights. It was much nicer than Old Tu’s lousy rental block, more modern and discreet.
Nhung opened the door and led Quoc upstairs.
Her room was not large, but it had enough. A bed, a small table, a wardrobe, an electric stove, a few boxes stacked neatly in the corner. Everything was orderly and clean. Quoc set the bags of food on the table, took out the boxes, and laid them out one by one.
Nhung went to the wardrobe for clothes.
Quoc had just opened the lid of a rice box when he saw her standing in front of the mirror, taking off the dress. Her whole body appeared before him.
He froze for a moment.
Nhung looked through the mirror and caught his eyes. She did not startle, and she did not hurry to cover herself. She only glanced at Quoc, her voice flat:
“You saw everything earlier. Still looking?”
Quoc immediately turned his face away.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Nhung gave a faint smile.
“I know.”
She took the clothes and went behind a small curtain. Water began running. Quoc stood outside and kept laying out the food, his hands still normal, but his eyes no longer wandered.
A while later, Nhung came out.
She had changed into a loose T-shirt and panties. Her hair was still a little wet. Bare face, paler than at the company. No more icy look from when she stood before Mr. Vinh. No more hard look from when she walked past the gangsters. Now she looked like someone who had just passed through a dirty place, bathed clean, and still felt the smell clinging to her body.
Nhung sat down across from Quoc.
“Eat.”
The two ate in almost absolute silence. Quoc tried to keep his eyes down on his rice box, but Nhung was sitting on the floor across from him, legs slightly spread, wearing only a loose T-shirt and thin panties. Her pink pussy slit showed clearly through the thin fabric, right in front of Quoc’s eyes. His face turned red. He lowered his head and ate quickly, trying to hold back the hot feeling rising in him.
Before the meal was done, Quoc stood up.
“Let me wash the dishes for you.”
He carried the leftovers to the small kitchen area and turned on the faucet. Water ran loudly.
While he was washing, Nhung slowly walked up from behind. She said nothing. Her arms went around Quoc’s waist, hugging him tight from behind. Her breasts pressed against his back. One hand slowly slid down and touched the hard cock in Quoc’s pants.
Quoc jerked, the bowl in his hand almost falling to the floor.
Nhung brought her mouth close to his ear, her voice hoarse, tired but clear:
“Do you want to?”
The air in the room suddenly grew stifling. Quoc stood stiff, water still running from the faucet. His cock jerked hard under Nhung’s hand. She squeezed lightly, stroking along it through the pants, feeling its hardness and size clearly.
Quoc swallowed, his voice thick:
“You ... you just...”
Nhung did not let him finish. She rubbed herself against his back, her soft breasts pressing tighter, her hand still stroking Quoc’s swollen cock.
Quoc left the dishes, wiped his hands, then turned and lifted Nhung up, carrying her toward the bed.
Nhung did not resist. She let him carry her, both hands hanging loose, face turned to one side. But when Quoc bent to set her on the bed, he suddenly saw water at the corner of Nhung’s eye.
Only one very small drop.
It sat at the end of her eye, shining under the weak room light.
Quoc stopped.
He looked at Nhung for a while, then bent down and gently kissed that tear.
Nhung closed her eyes.
Quoc did nothing else. He lay down beside her, leaving just enough distance, then said:
“Can you tell me?”
Nhung opened her eyes and turned to look at him.
“You’re not doing it? Still asking questions?”
Quoc smiled.
“I want to do it when you’re smiling.”
Nhung looked at him for a long time. Then she turned her face toward the ceiling.
“What do you want to hear? How many times I’ve fucked?”
Quoc was still smiling, but his eyes were not.
“About the past you had to pay with. I think you and Brother Hoang have some past between you. That’s why you had to sacrifice like that.”
Nhung was silent.
Outside the window, the city was beginning to darken. Traffic noises from the road grew distant, thin as water running behind a wall. In the room there was only the steady turning of the fan and the smell of cooling food on the table.
After a while, Nhung said:
“Yeah.”
She said it very softly, as if speaking louder would wake all the old things.
“Hoang and I were brought home by Ma Hai almost at the same time. Hoang was five then. I was four.”
Quoc lay still and did not interrupt.
Nhung looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes were no longer in this room. They had drifted somewhere far away, where there were old iron beds, thin blankets, the smell of cheap powdered milk, red antiseptic, and children crying at night.
“When Hoang was little, he didn’t talk much. He was skinny, but stubborn. Anyone who touched me, he fought. Even when he couldn’t win, he fought.”
She gave a small laugh.
“Once a snake crawled into the children’s sleeping area. All the kids screamed. I was so scared I froze and couldn’t run. Hoang stood in front of me. He held a broom in his hand, legs shaking, but he still stood there. Lucky it was a common snake, not poisonous.”
Nhung stopped.
“But I never forgot that image.”
Quoc turned to look at her.
Nhung still looked at the ceiling.
“There was an older sister in the camp. About ten years older than Hoang. Back then Sister Linh was about fifteen or sixteen. Very young. Very beautiful. And she loved the children.”
Nhung’s voice softened when she said that name.
“Sister Linh was Ma Hai’s daughter. But to the children in the camp, she was more like the eldest sister. If someone got sick, she stayed up all night wiping them down. If someone got bullied, she stood up and scolded. If someone had no sandals, she gave them hers. Back then we were very poor, but as long as Sister Linh was there, it still felt like we had a home.”
The room went quiet.
Nhung placed a hand across her stomach, fingers woven together.
“Then the camp had trouble. The land where Ma Hai was raising the children had no papers, and it was also inside a planned development zone. The state issued a decision to take it back. All of us had to move.”
She exhaled very lightly.
“At that time Sister Linh was twenty. Beautiful as a flower.”
Quoc said nothing.
Nhung continued:
“Someone promised her he could help her get an old abandoned school building. Use it again as a place for the children. Sister Linh believed him. She gave them the little compensation money we had, then went to meet him.”
Nhung’s voice dried out.
“He forced Sister Linh to sleep with him. Took her virginity.”
She stopped for quite a long time.
Quoc listened to the fan turning. Round after round. Like someone slowly cutting the room into thin slices.