Seduction of a Japanese Wife

Have you ever fucked a Japanese woman? I don't mean an American woman who is of Japanese descent or a Japanese national who is so westernized that she couldn't live in her own country. No, I'm talking about a woman who is, heart and soul, a creature of her ancestry, culture, and society regardless of what she may wear, what language she may speak, or what setting she may find herself.

Engrained in the very fabric of her female Japanese psyche is her acquiescence to members of the opposite gender and her devotion to the menfolk in her life. She bows lower when she encounters a man; humbly walks behind men; and defers to males. To please the man in her life, a Japanese woman will do whatever is necessary to cater to his masculine pride, whims, and fantasies.

This intrinsic trait manifests itself when a Japanese woman has sex. At first, she will enticingly exhibit her vulnerability and femininity with expressions of fidgeting and hesitation. When mounted, her eyes will be pressed shut as if in denial, and when taken, she will emit child-like whimpers with each thrust of his manhood. Yet, as her man exerts himself and nears his release, this once docile and reluctant woman will clutch her man to her, panting breathlessly in his ear of how he has made her a lust-consumed "yariman" (slut). By the time he ejaculates into her, her man will feel like a samurai of old - virile, strong, and dominant.

This is my story of Kiyomi whose very name meant "pure beauty" and how she became my mistress.

My name is Damon, and I'm a "gaijin," a term applied to non-Japanese foreigners and especially whites. Fifteen years ago, I flew into Tokyo to be an exchange instructor at a recognized national university. With a gift for language and a knack for social nuances, I effortlessly immersed myself into living in Japan and with its people. Easily adopting the customs and culture of my host nation. I then focused on learning and adapting to the subtleties of working with the Japanese within a higher education environment and satisfying their often inscrutable expectations.

As a result, my teaching of English at my small but highly prestigious University became a unique blend of western and Japanese styles. My classes were filled with real life situations on which I could fluently converse and explain the subtle distinctions in Japanese, easily transitioning from the East to the West. This innovative approach proved immensely popular to my young students who came to view my classes as a prerequisite to their future success in dealing with Westerners.

As the word spread, I drew the attention of the senior officials of the University. I, however, quickly attributed any academic success to the excellent guidance of my superiors and the outstanding support of my fellow instructors. By humbly opting to forego any personal recognition, I avoided the old Japanese adage that "the nail that stands out is hammered down." Through my subtle air of humility, deference to those around me, and selflessness for the good of my colleagues and the University, I gradually managed to gain their acceptance as a professional and then as a person.

My superiors were quick to see how my presence enhanced the prestige of their faculty and gave them an air of innovativeness. Eager to gain an edge over competing universities in the recruitment of prospective students, they made a bold and unprecedented move by offering me a permanent instructional position. After humbling accepting their gracious offer and demonstrating a willingness to share with and assist my colleagues, I steadily rose within the academic department to positions of leadership and eventually became its first gaijin chair.

In wanting a top-notched English department, my superiors found that their gaijin chair's non-Japanese qualities had other advantages. They inserted into my department head duties the responsibility of hiring, mentoring, and assessing new instructors. My superiors knew that they could rely on my foreignness to buffer them from the unpleasantness of having to release probationary faculty members who didn't meet the University's standards. While it became widely accepted that I could make or break the career of an aspiring teacher, I never abused or misused this heady sense of power - that is until I met Ichiro, a probationary instructor, and more importantly his wife, Kiyomi.

"Damon-san," intoned the President of the University in a special private afternoon tea, "there is a 'delicate matter' that we wish you to deal with."

"Hai, sensei (Yes, teacher/master)," I calmly but swiftly intoned with a bow of deference and attentiveness.

"You will have a young man by the name of Ichiro who at the start of the coming academic term, will be teaching basic English."

I nodded and weighing what was happening, immediately surmised several things. For the President to ask me to tea to discuss a new faculty member was unprecedented and meant that the situation was of significance. Being named "Ichiro" and bypassing the normal hiring process indicated that individual of discussion was the eldest son of a family of import. Lastly, the President's use of the unique phrase "delicate matter" meant that there was a problem in which I might have to play the hatchet-man role.

"Ichiro comes from a family of scholars," the President continued hesitantly, "His renowned father with whom I have worked with for many years, is a close associate. Recently my colleague contacted me to ask that his son be allowed to assume a faculty vacancy in your recognized department." Then with a tinge of regret, the President murmured, "You understand that I was honor bound to grant to my esteemed colleague's request despite my unspoken personal misgivings."

"Hai," I dutifully utter as I nodded and patiently waited.

The President with a worrisome shaking of his head, mutter with thinly-veiled concern that was laced with distaste, "Damon-san, from my dealings with Ichiro, I know him to be a man who has the omnipresent burden of bringing further honor to his family. While Ichiro is fluent in English, he is a proverbial...how do you say it...ah, bookworm...who was more adept at translating English than at teaching it. I fear that Ichiro will be out of his element in our University and will be doomed to be certain failure, bringing shame to his father and family."

Then with an enigmatic look that held hidden meanings, the President softly said, "That is...unless some redeeming reason for his salvation could be found. If not...we rely on 'you'...to judiciously and discretely do what needs to be done. Do you understand, Damon-san?"

Without no choice in the matter, all I could do was to utter, "Hai, sensei" and then bow deeply.

During our first meeting, I instantly understood the President's reservations and the nature of my challenge. Ichiro looked like he carried the weight of the world on his scrawny shoulders and had a look of worry painted on his thirty-three-year-old face. Given the traditional self-centricity of a first-born Japanese male, I suspected that Ichiro had been pampered and given preferential treatment for most of his existence. This job was probably his first test of manhood and life.

While Ichiro spoke perfect English, his conversation was devoid of personal interaction, spontaneity, and any emotion. Given that the man before me had a stilted mastery of English, zero charisma, and no interpersonal skills, Ichiro was sadly doomed before his first day of instruction. I also knew that I was screwed unless I could find something that might make Ichiro worth saving. After thoroughly assessing all of Ichiro's assets, I surprisingly discovered that Ichiro's only saving grace was his wife, Kiyomi.

Kiyomi was the epitome of the demure and cultured sensuality of Japanese women in their late-twenties. While she wasn't a stunning Asian beauty, Kiyomi was what the Japanese referred to as "kawaii" or that certain wholesome, natural cuteness. Shorter than her gangly husband by several inches, she was a unique combination of being petite but with shapely curves in her hips, buns, and especially bust.

As amazing as it may seem, Kiyomi sported what can only be described as a "breathtaking rack" that I would later discovered were natural C-cup breasts on her diminutive figure. It was apparent that she was self-conscious of her breasts as evidence by the modest loose clothing that she wore. However, what she didn't realize was that her efforts to downplay and disguise her mammary endowments only caused them to be noticed more by others.

Kiyomi was first and foremost a dutiful wife who did her best to assist her husband's career. Ichiro's clothes were always clean and neatly pressed, but it didn't matter for he wore them like the proverbial absent-minded professor. Kiyomi's homemade bentos (boxed lunches) for Ichiro were mouthwatering, but he ate them without even tasting them. She crafted little holiday keepsakes for the departmental faculty and staff, but they were often found well after the event forgotten is some corner of Ichiro's office.

As if to compensate for Ichiro's individual quirks and social awkwardness, Kiyomi never failed to bring snacks and stop to chat with the department' office women, endearing herself to them. At University socials or functions, she charmed Ichiro's male colleagues with her pleasantries, trying to give Ichiro an opportunity (which he never failed to squander) to join in the discussion and camaraderie.

Even my normally stoic superiors weren't immune to Kiyomi's social grace and physical attributes, and couldn't help but be envious of our newest faculty member. "What a shame," I overheard the University President remark to the other senior members of institution's leadership. "How incongruous is the image of that pasty-face feeble Ichiro wallowing between the pleasure valley of Kiyomi's billowy bosom. Sigh! Such a waste!"

Aware of the precarious status of her husband as a probationary faculty member, Kiyomi casually made it a point to become familiar with Ichiro's superiors especially me, his departmental chair. I must say that I enjoyed our individual conversations and her personal attention since they gave me a better opportunity to admire her cuteness and obvious physical delights.

"I have heard, Damon-san, that you like to sail during the holidays? My, it must be wonderful to escape the worries of the city and to be out on the ocean," chimed Kiyomi sweetly as we found ourselves alone at a social gathering. "It must be exhilarating especially during the summer months. What a pleasure to be in the sun after a long winter - and to be free and away. Ah, how I envy you."

The instant image of Kiyomi lounging in on my sloop in swimsuit - no, a bikini - a rather teeny-weeny string bikini at that - caused my trouser snake to instantly stir and forced me to quickly recross my legs so that I could subtly adjust myself.

"Well then, when the next warm spell comes, you and Ichiro must join me for a sailing outing. There's nothing like being out on the open sea."

Kiyomi's almond-shaped eyes twinkled at my invitation, and then blinked in afterthought before she said, "Thank you Damon-san for the invitation, but unfortunately Ichiro becomes deathly ill...how do you say it...ah, seasick. Once I took him on a ferry ride and he was violently ill for days."

She then sighed wistfully before continuing, "And, as much as I may want to, I do not even own a bathing suit. I am ashamed to say that I wouldn't even know how buy one or where to go."

I quickly quipped that I knew of several boutiques in the city to which I could refer her. I then jokingly offered that I'd be more than willing to accompany her and endure endless hours of her trying on various swim apparel until she found the right one.

Kiyomi giggled and then smile sweetly as she politely nodded at my blatant offer. "Oh, Damon-san, that would be most unseemly to have you, the distinguished head of the English department, waste so much time on me. Besides, I am sure that a man of your experience would be better able to select a fitting suit for me. Am I not right?" To this we nervously laughed and somehow switched topics, but not before the vision of a bikini-clad Kiyomi was indelibly burned into my mind.

The academic term trudged along and it became painfully apparent that Ichiro was floundering with his instructional responsibilities. Complaints from his students indicated that his classes were boring, unorganized, and not worth attending. His peer reviews were no less kind as they pointed out his inability to contribute to curriculum development and unwillingness to support other faculty or institutional endeavors. My superiors brought such academic concerns to my attention and after a brief discussion, the President tasked me to resolve the dilemma - one way or another - without the University or the senior leadership losing face.

The University's higher ups knew that as a Westerner, I could be direct - or 'blunt' might be a better word - without having to observe Japanese etiquette when it came to be delivering bad news. Also, because I was still viewed by many as an outsider, I could bear the unpleasant task of dismissing Ichiro and then endure the blame from his family for Ichiro's humiliation (and ultimately, theirs).

When I called Ichiro into my office, he knew that he already knew that he was in hot water, judging from his nervous stuttering and disheveled appearance. While I really felt badly for Ichiro, I didn't sugar-coat what needed to be said, and thought that he might breakdown and cry right in front of me. I did, however, say that I would give him until the ending of the academic term to see if things improved to my satisfaction. With that, I dismissed an obviously shaken Ichiro.

I was working late on the eve of a holiday weekend, and the University was virtually empty. I didn't hear the soft knock on my office door until it was repeated. Opening it, I was delighted to find Kiyomi who bowed respectfully to me.

"Damon-san, please excuse my intrusion," Kiyomi murmuring gently and contritely without lifting her eyes, "If I may speak to you?" I ushered her into my office, and after checking to make sure that no one was in the hallway, quickly closed and locked the door so that we wouldn't be disturbed.

"This is most difficult, Damon-san," Kiyomi whispered as we sat on the couch in my office, "but I need to talk to you about my husband, Ichiro. I understand that a few days ago you were required to speak to him...about his academic performance...and the need for him to improve.

"Since your discussion with him, Ichiro has been thoroughly depressed. He has lost his appetite, cannot sleep, is extremely absentminded, and is quite...irritable. I have tried to 'comfort' him - to ease him from his depression - but he found my spousal efforts to be a nuisance and rebuffed me." Kiyomi's soft voice cracked with choked emotion as she fought to hold back her tears.

I sat there stunned as I thought that Ichiro must have lost it to reject an amorous Kiyomi. My amazement was compounded when a sobbing Kiyomi stuttered, "Ichiro has left me...for the holiday...and perhaps forever. He told me before departing...that he needed to get away...from my 'distracting' presence."

When she saw the shock on my face, Kiyomi gasped and then murmured, "Forgive me, Damon-san. While I am at a loss as how to best explain, I feel I must share with you the immense pressure that confronts my husband - and that may affect his work. Please bear with me.

"As the eldest son of his family, Ichiro is expected to continue his branch of the family tree. I have sought to give Ichiro a child. But try as I may, I cannot conceive which has added familial pressure to my husband.

"In desperation, I sought the advice of Ichiro's elder sister. At first his sister chided me, saying that I was at fault for not making myself available to the physical needs of my husband. To my shame, I was forced to disclose our coupling habits to make it clear how I have willingly made myself available and how often I have often sought to entice my husband to lay with me. Still, he spurned me, saying that I was too demanding and obsessed with pillowing."

I now struggled to control of my facial muscles to maintain a calm and collected appearance. But all the time I couldn't help but think of much of a blithering idiot Ichiro was.

"It was only then that Ichiro's sister," Kiyomi sobbed to interrupt my thoughts, "shared that he might be that way because he was extremely sickly with a high fever when he was a young man and experienced severe swelling of his face area and 'male parts.' The doctor said that Ichiro might not be able to father children as a side effect. Ichiro, however, cannot accept this and prefers to blame me instead for our conjugal failures.

"Please excuse me, Damon-san," Kiyomi sputtered as she sought to collect herself, "I did not mean to burden you with my personal troubles. It was most unseemly of me, but I had to tell you that given such demands in Ichiro's life to perform...as a first son, as a husband, and as instructor...Ichiro has felt...'impotent.' He has retreated to a monastery where he seeks to meditate and pray as to his career...our marriage...and me.

"Damon-san, is there anything that I can do to help my husband's career?" Then after taking a deep breath and in so doing unknowingly projected her sizeable bosom, Kiyomi pleaded, "I would be willing to do whatever I can. No matter what; you just need to tell me. Please, I beg of you. Please?"

Three options immediately flashed through my mind. The first was where I honorably refuse to take advantage of an obviously distraught Kiyomi. However, sitting next to her, observing the fullness of her loose top and her shapely legs that were displayed from her modest skirt, my throbbing little head between my legs emphatically said, "hell no" to this option.

The second choice that flashed before me was to just jump Kiyomi and force myself upon her. However, if I misread the situation, my caveman behavior would definitely get me fired; if not imprisoned.

I decided on the third option; one in which Kiyomi would contribute inadvertently to her own seduction.

"Kiyomi-chan, you will forgive me for being so direct, but your husband's career rests in his hands," and then after a poignant pause, I continued, "and in mine. Ichiro is in his monastery, meditating on his life options, and I am here considering all things - for and against - retaining your husband.

"I must be perfectly honest, but at this point in time - you - are the only thing that Ichiro has going for him. Just how much of a positive influence you can have as to whether Ichiro is retained in some capacity at this University is up to you - and - what you are willing to do to ensure it happens."

Kiyomi sat back, shocked at my frank non-Japanese assessment of her husband's chances and more so at my thinly veiled "quid pro quo" innuendo. She was beginning to realize that I had accepted her offer but not in a way she had envisioned.

Before she could figure a way out of her dilemma, I jokingly said, "Come, come, let us not think of such dire possibilities. There is plenty of time, and I'm sure that you will eventually tilt the scales in Ichiro's favor. Then when the warm period comes, we'll be sailing on my sloop, enjoying the open ocean and the hot sun.

Oh, that's right, Ichiro has a weak constitution...well...then it will have to be just the two of us, right?" Not giving her a chance to respond, I retrieved a small bag from my desk. "My apologies for not having this wrapped properly," I said as I handed her the bag with a slight nod.

Kiyomi's almond-shaped eyes lit up in utter amazement when she removed from the bag one hell of a skimpy string bikini. "Damon-san, I do not know what to say. I do not know...I have never..."

"Come now. Do not be embarrassed. You are a young and attractive woman, and this is what young women are wearing now days. That's what the saleswoman said when I purchased this bikini. I hope I got the sizing correct, but if it doesn't fit, I must return it immediately to receive a refund. So, if you do not mind, would you try it on now? It would please me greatly to see you in it. Please."

Kiyomi struggled as to what to do, and finally with a slight nod, asked where she could change. When I commented that she could use the restroom, but that it was at the end of the hallway and that she would have to walk back in a bikini.

To this, Kiyomi blushed brightly and shook her head. Finally, she said, "I could, Damon-san, change in that corner, if you would be so pleased as to turn around."

What Kiyomi did not realize was that the wall behind my desk was decorated with what looked like antique-glass tiles. When looked at directly, the tiles appeared to have a stone-like finish, but when viewed from an angle, they became mirrors. Kiyomi completely unaware that the corner she had chosen was just the correct angle where I could covertly watch her reflection as she unbuttoned and shimmied out her blouse and then her modest skirt.

I didn't realize just how busty Kiyomi was until she unhooked and shucked her seemingly industrial-strength bra and released a sudden avalanche of soft snow-white flesh. Given her small frame, her freed breasts seemed incredibly full with a unique blend of mouthwatering softness and tantalizing firmness. Thick long burgundy nipples jutted from the tips of her swaying boobs, and when Kiyomi leaned forward to remove her panties, her swollen tits dangled and swayed enticingly.

As Kiyomi stood there trying to figure out how to wear a string bikini, I ogled her petite five-foot-three figure that could only be described as nicely rounded without being chubby. From her humungous boobs, she had a narrow waist with slight pudge just above the trimmed bush that covered the delta of her tender inner thighs. When combined with the curve of her hips, tight buns, and shapely legs, Kiyomi was the perfect picture alluring snow-white Asian femininity.

Kiyomi opted to put on her top first. After tying the bottom string behind her, Kiyomi struggled to pull her long ebony hair aside while fastening the top behind her neck. Her boobs quivered and swayed with a life of their own as she tried to tuck them behind the triangular pieces of cloth that formed her bra cups. What Kiyomi didn't know was that there was no way in hell that her bountiful C-cup breasts were going to be contained by the B-cup bikini that I had gotten her.

Her boobs jiggled wildly, an omen of things to come, as she stepped into the string bikini bottom. Kiyomi barely managed to tie the stretched thin material to cover her pussy bush. However, when she bent over to tuck her stray dark pubic hairs into her bikini crotch, her bodacious breasts surged forward, spilling out her ridiculously small top. Righting herself, Kiyomi quickly stuffed her tits back into her flimsy top before halfheartedly asking me to turn around.

"Damon-san," Kiyomi shyly murmured as her hands timidly shielded her top and bottom, "I...I feel so strange. Are you sure that this is what women wear? It is like I am hardly wearing anything."

I hurriedly reassured her that a string bikini was classic swimwear for women and that she looked amazing. Kiyomi blushed, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle while her other hand waved in front of her as if to quickly dismiss my compliment. I told her to put her arms at her side and to stand up straight so that I could fully see her and check the fit of the bikini. Reddening vividly, Kiyomi gulped anxiously before slowly complying as instructed and straightening for my inspection.

Busting at the seams would have been a good way to describe Kiyomi's bikini. Her pliant tits were already threatening to overflow her cups, bulge from her bra triangle's sides, and slip under the restraining string at the bottom. Her succulent meaty nipples made noticeable bumps at the very edge of her cups and were probably what kept the triangle-pieces in place. The bottom of her bikini did a bit better (but not by much) in hiding her pussy. However, it failed miserably by covering half of her curved buns.

"Kiyomi, I would be remiss in giving you a gift that did not fit properly. I want you to lean forward and rest your hands on your knees to test if I selected correctly."

Kiyomi gasped at my request since she knew full well what would probably happen if she complied. Yet, she also understood that she was also being tested on her willingness to obey her husband's superior and do what was necessary to help her beleaguered husband.

With a slight gulp, Kiyomi nodded and murmured, "Hai, Damon-san." With her arms cradling the sides of her bikini top, she slowly bent from the waist with a straight back trying desperately to prevent the inevitable. To balance herself, Kiyomi pressed her rounded buns backwards, unwittingly assuming a most provocative pose. But, it wasn't until she moved her arms to grasp her knees that her tiny bikini top failed miserably as her confined boobs broke free to erupt into glorious view.

Kiyomi gasped in utter astonishment as she frantically sought to cover her massive quivering boobs with her small hands while turning from me. Not giving her a chance to compose herself, I quickly rose and stepped forward. With my chest pressing against her back, I reached around to quickly insert my hands between her exposed globes of milky flesh and her shielding palms.

"Damon-san, please! Please do not!" Kiyomi whimpered immediately as she sought to push away my groping hands. But in struggling she only pushed herself deeper into my embrace as she tried desperately to pry my hands from her jiggling tits. "Please, we must not do this. Please, let me go."

"I hold the career of you husband, Ichiro," I growled into her ear while nuzzling her neck, "in the palms of my hands. I would be willing to let you to 'show' me," I said with a clear emphasis on my words, "as to your commitment to do 'anything' to assist your husband's career."

As the impact of my words hit, Kiyomi ceased her struggles, and as her body trembled uncontrollably, realized her utter helplessness and the hopelessness of her situation. Then, with a nod of her head, Kiyomi whispered an anguished "hai." Pressing the palms of my hands into her naked breasts, she lowered her arms slowly to her sides to signify her reluctant capitulation.

Kissing her earlobes and neck, I hefted and fondled her globular mounds, delighting in how her large nipples stiffened and pressed against my palms. As I slowly guided a stunned Kiyomi toward couch, I pull various strings and quickly discarded her bikini top and bottom, caressing her newly reveal flesh. She whimpered and weakly sought to cover her nakedness, but did nothing when I forced her to the couch, brushing her hands aside.

A mewling cry escaped Kiyomi's lips when my lips latched on and sucked first one then another nipple. Her substantial tips harden instantly in my mouth, and when I released them, I couldn't believe how thumb-like they looked. Kiyomi issued sharp cries as I sucked, licked, and nipped each of her burgundy cylinders until they jutted obscenely from her swollen tits. Then pinching her engorged tips between my thumbs and forefingers, I tugged her rubbery cylinders from her heaving chest.

Unable to restrain myself any further, I thrust my face into the valley of Kiyomi's twin Mount Fuji's. I couldn't believe the velvet-softness that engulfed and rubbed my face. Laughing silently to myself, I thought of how envious my superiors would be if they knew how incredibly wonderful it felt to wallow between Kiyomi's generous spongy boobs.

Kiyomi turned her head when I tried to kiss her, but after I turned her face to mine, reluctantly and awkwardly pressed her closed lips against mine. When I persisted, her mouth opened to utter a feeble protest and my tongue to dart in. Kiyomi panicked at as our tongue tips touched within her mouth, and she urgently sought to push my invading presence out of her mouth.

While frustrated at first at being refused, I backed off and asked an apologetic Kiyomi as to the reason for her oral hesitancy.

"Gomenasai (Forgive me), Damon-san. I do not have much...experience... kissing a man. The few times that Ichiro has kissed me," she said as if trying to figure out how to explain herself, "he would have me stick my tongue out to...how would you say...'mash' against his...outside of our mouths. Forgive me for my lack of knowledge as how to satisfy you better."

I lifted her fragile chin and gazing into her eyes, said, "Kiyomi-chan, I am going to kiss you as a gaijin would. It will please me...and after a while, it will bring you great passion. I know that what I do may seem foreign, but you will do it...willingly and wholeheartedly...because I wish it from you.

With that said, I let my lips nuzzle her earlobes and exposed throat, causing her to gasp in surprise. Deliberately avoiding her parted lips, I sensually kissed Kiyomi's brow, eyelids, cheeks, nose and chin until she was moaning deliriously when I completed another circuit. Her mouth was open and waiting for my tongue when my lips finally brushed lightly against hers. I then kissed Kiyomi deeply and continuously until she naturally responded. Before long, her agile tongue passionately responded and then dueled with mine in her delicious little mouth.

Her body jerked sharply in surprise when my hand was shoved between Kiyomi's legs to scoop her sopping wet silk-covered muff. She involuntarily whined and squirmed as I slowly massaged the fleshy pearl between her inner folds. Kiyomi mistakenly thought she could stop my digital stimulation by pressing her thighs together to trap my hand. However, in so doing, she inadvertently intensified the effect of my fingers twiddling her stiff little clit. As I quickened my fingering, rapidly strumming her lover nub, Kiyomi's legs opened as her small form began to twist and turn violently. Suddenly, Kiyomi snapped rigid before convulsing uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the orgasm that gripped her.

As Kiyomi shuddered in the aftermath of her unexpected climax, I quickly stripping to my underwear. Grabbing Kiyomi's hand, I slapped it to my cloth-covered erection before she knew it. Her hand instantly reacted as if she had touched a red-hot bar of iron, but I held her wrist so that she couldn't jerk away.

"Pull down my boxers. Do it now," I muttered. I had expected a protest but was surprised when Kiyomi with downcast eyes, her head turned away, grasped my waistband and lowered my boxers over my hips and down to my ankles.

Now I'm no porno-star who has a salami-sized monster between his legs. Still my thick eight-inch cock is hell more than many of my Japanese male colleagues. I was certain that I was bigger than Ichiro given the way Kiyomi straightened as her eyes widen in sheer wonder when confronted by my swaying penis.

"What, Kiyomi-chan? You act like you've never seen a man's penis before. You have, haven't you?" When Kiyomi demurely shook her head, I snorted in disgusted amazement at Ichiro's connubial ineptitude.

Thinking that I was upset with her, Kiyomi reluctantly admitted that Ichiro was the only man she had ever had sex with. "Ichiro," Kiyomi sobbed as tears flow across her high cheeks, "is very...'strict'...when it comes to discharging his marital obligations with me."

Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes as Kiyomi went on to explain. "I have...never seen Ichiro undressed since he insists that the room be totally dark before disrobing. I have never seen him like this," she said as she nodded toward my throbbing hard-on.

"Even when 'bedding' me, Ichiro doesn't want to kiss, touch, or embrace me. He dislikes me touching him - and has never shown me his manhood. To prevent unnecessary...and unwanted...contact, Ichiro has me lie face down with my legs together. Lifting the back of my sleep kimono, Ichiro mounts me from behind and - 'inserts' - himself between my inner thighs and...hmmm, what is the word...ah, buttocks. He then takes me quickly until he releases his semen...sometimes within me...most often, not. When he is finished, he then rolls off and goes to sleep, ignoring me."

The University President would have been just as stupefied as I was to have learned that Ichiro elected to forego Kiyomi's outstanding boobs, womanly pleasures, and even his own gratification. He would have been horrified to learn that Ichiro neglectfully used his sensuous wife as he would an inflated rubber adult fuck-doll.

Looking at me pitifully and with doubt in her voice, Kiyomi murmured, "I must, Damon-san, be so undesirable to make my husband behave as such."

"I find you, Kiyomi-chan, desirable beyond all words." With that said, I let my lips speak volumes as to her sensuality. I kissed her while caressing her incredible form. My hands stroked and fondled her all over until Kiyomi responded passionately, her quivering body becoming putty in my hands. Then displaying my engorged erection to her, I said, "Do you see, Kiyomi-chan, how much you arouse me? That is an unmistakable indication of how desirable I find you.

"Now, touch me. Go on. Touch it! That's it. Grip me, Kiyomi-chan, harder. Yes, wrap your fingers around my swollen shaft, and move your hand up and down." Kiyomi complied tentatively, but as I moaned at her touch, her feathery caresses gradually evolved into firmer strokes. "Hmmm, go on. Yes, pump me, yes, just like that."

"Ohhh, Damon-san, your manhood has become so...big...so smooth and hard...so hot to my touch. Ohhh, my hand barely encircles its girth and it is so long. What? Yes, it is the biggest that I have seen. It is the only man's organ that I have seen or touched. Damon-san, I am afraid that my womanly sheathe will be unable to accommodate such impressive manly sword."

"Nonsense, Kiyomi-chan. You will, and you will learn to love it." Then with my hand resting on the back of her head, I nudged her face towards my dick. "Kiss it, kiss it now. Show me how you want to...need to...please a man. Then I will show you just how incredibly sexy you are."

"Please, Damon-san," she pleaded as she turned away, "I have never done this before. I know not what..."

Reaching down, I grabbed her chin and made Kiyomi look at me. "Show me how willing you are to go to protect Ichiro," I said sternly to remind her of her predicament.

A chided Kiyomi gave a slight nod of acquiescence, leaned forward to press her lips to my bulbous head. "Kiss it...yes...like that...just like that. Now, lick it and savor my taste...yes...my head and shaft too. Hmmm, it tastes good, doesn't it? Yes, that's it, Kiyomi-chan. Now, take me into your mouth - go on, do it."

Her lips parted to admit my bulbous head into her hot moist mouth. "Now suck it, suck it good. Come on, do it. Oooh, that's so good, Kiyomi-chan. God, you are unbelievable...so good.

"Your husband is such a 'baka-tare' (idiot, moron)! He does not know what he's missing. Hmmm, how does it feel, Kiyomi-chan to suck a 'real' man?" Kiyomi answered my question by pressing forward to take as much of me as she could between her delicate grasping lips. "Oh, Kiyomi-chan, how I would love to have you suck me off and taste my sperm - but not now."

With that I reluctantly withdrew from her luscious mouth and push Kiyomi back on the couch. "Now it is your turn to see how what will happen to you when you please me." Placing her legs on my shoulders, I bent Kiyomi's legs back so that I could do some serious muff-diving.

From the way Kiyomi moaned and trembled in undisguised ecstasy, I knew that this was the first time her sweet juicy pussy had been eaten and that she loved it. Her hips lifted off the couch to lewdly bump and grind as my lips latched on to her stiff clitoris. She uncontrollably pussy-humped my face when my fingers and then my cock probed her fleshy petals.

"Kiyomi-chan, do you want this?" I knelt between her legs with my raging hard-on plowing her love trench from bottom to top and back. "Do you want to know what it feels like to be a 'real' woman? Do you want to discover what has been absent in your miserable marriage?" My flanged head teasingly popped in and out of Kiyomi's sizzling twat, making an obscene slurping and plopping sounds. "Kiyomi-chan, do you want to be treated as the desirable woman that you are?"

Kiyomi threw back her head with her eyelids fluttering in anticipation, her nostrils flaring, and her long black hair clinging to her glistening skin. She lurched when I leaned forward to slowly sink into the tightest, hottest, and wettest cunt I had ever had ever experienced. The back of her hand covered her mouth in uniquely feminine manner, but I wasn't sure whether she did so to hide just how much she savored the sensation or to stifle the whimpers that escaped her ivory throat.

"Itai (It hurts), itai," Kiyomi whined in a high girlishly voice as her molten velvet flesh was made to spread around and engulf my penetrating cock head. "Itai, Damon-san. You are so large. Ichiro is but a twig compared to your thick branch. Oh, how you pierce me to the core...so deep...so much!"

I repeatedly pulled back to push gently forward, wedging myself further into Kiyomi's churning pussy. In slow measured strokes, I took her until her child-like whimpers of wincing pain morphed into groans of undisguised yearning. With each thrust of my groin into her churning twat, her large tits flopped wildly up and down her small chest, jiggling lewdly like full bags of Jell-O. Panting breathlessly, Kiyomi surrendered to the tsunami of lust that overwhelmed her, ratcheting up with escalating tension and expectation.

Suddenly a gut-wrenching orgasm tore through Kiyomi, sending her into fits of convulsions that had her quim suddenly gushing with spurts of her sexual excitement. Sobbing hysterically, Kiyomi clung to me as her fingernails raked my back and her legs entwined with mine. Her thighs clamped around my pumping hips and drove me into her bodily depths. Kiyomi shook violently in raw ecstasy; her sexual release spewing out and drenching our mashed genitals in warm wet slipperiness.

"Oh, Damon-san, I am...without words. After years of marriage, I never knew that 'pillowing' could be like this," Kiyomi sighed as she gasped for air. "I never knew I could be stretched or penetrated like this...oh, how I thought I had died when you touch parts of me that I never knew existed. Oh, Damon-san, did I have...an orgasm? I did? What? At least two...maybe three?

"Oh my...please forgive me, Damon-san," Kiyomi gasped as she realized just how much of her juices she had discharged when she climaxed. "I am so embarrassed for I have wet myself and you. What? It is natural? A 'squirting' orgasm? Hai, Damon-san. I never knew that a man could make me react and feel this way."

"Kiyomi-chan, you must learn the carnal ways between men and women. Since you husband has so seriously 'neglected' your education...ah, such a poor instructor...I, as his superior, must assume this responsibility. You must learn to please me...in 'all' ways. Do you understand?" To this Kiyomi nodded her head as she hid her face in the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

Suddenly Kiyomi stiffened, emitting a sharp yelp as my stiff index finger teasingly circled her puckered asshole. Each touch of her rear orifice caused my Japanese submissive to lurch as if shocked by an electrical cord. My finger soon became well coated with her slippery fluid that escaped her wiggling cock-plugged cunt.

When my finger tip pressed against her virgin asshole, Kiyomi wriggled in a vain effort to dislodge my digital presence. "Damon-san," Kiyomi exclaimed when my intent became apparent. "Please, Damon-san, please. What are you doing? It is most - 'improper.'"

"Woman," I barked, startling Kiyomi. "I see you have yet to know your place. Are you questioning me? Are you telling me how I should be pleased or what I may do with your body? Ah, perhaps Ichiro was right about you are so willful and demanding!"

"No, no, Damon-san, please forgive me. I did not mean...oh, I am so confused. You have done things to me that I never could have imagined. Forgive me, but where your finger now touches me...is so strange. I am... confused...as to what you want to do to me."

"Kiyomi-chan," I said sternly, "I am not Ichiro. As I have said many times to you, I want you - 'all' of you, and I will not be denied. If you do not wish to be please me and experience the wonders of your own body and that of mine, then leave. Leave now!"

With that I started to pull away and but, before I could withdraw from her from her snug love box, Kiyomi sat up to clasp me to her. With her face pressed against my chest, she pleaded, "No - please, Damon-san - please forgive me. Please be patient with me for what you have done...and wish to do... with my body...is so strange...so unfamiliar..."

Forcefully reseating my rock-hard dick back into her churning cunt, I restated my overriding expectation of her. "You will do many strange and unusual things with me, Kiyomi-chan. You will learn to take my manhood into all - and I mean 'all' - orifices of your luscious body...including this one..." With that, I plunged my well-lubricated finger between her virgin sphincters, eliciting a shrill whine from Kiyomi's lips. "And you will learn to love it."

With her eyes tightly closed, Kiyomi submitted as I digitally reamed her tight squirming little anus, struggling desperately not to upset me. I knew from the writhing of her buns and her child-like whining that I would have to take special care when I finally got around to sodomizing her and breaking her in properly to the pleasures of being sodomized.

"However, I will not take this precious gift of yours today," I announced as I withdrew my embedded finger. "No, I will save it for another time when I...we...may leisurely enjoy your anal deflowering.

"Kiyomi-chan, you have pleased me - but - have yet to satisfy me. I have not released the pressure in my loins, and this causes me extreme discomfort." When I withdrew my raging hard-on from her clinging twat, I was gratified to hear Kiyomi's soft mewl of regret.

"I have not done so because I am without protection. It would be most difficult to explain should you become with child...that is half-gaijin. Don't you agree?"

When Kiyomi opened her mouth to reply, I pressed her face towards my man-meat marinated with her love juices. Holding the back of her head as I entered her parted lips, I proceeded to slowly pump my hips until I slipped easily into her welcoming succulent mouth.

"Show me, Kiyomi-chan, your willingness to satisfy me."

As soon as Kiyomi realized what I wanted, the fingers of her small hand wrapped themselves around my shaft, sliding up and down. Her delicious lips latched on to and mouthed my cock. I was gratified at her efforts to show that she was a quick learner and was eager to please me.

"I will fill your mouth with my seed," I groaned as I felt my nuts lift and tighten due to Kiyomi's oral endeavors. "You will gratefully take all that I give you...and savor the taste of my loins. Then you must swallow it...all of it...for it is expected of you. Do you understand?"

Kiyomi nodded slightly as she bobbed her head and looked up at me. In her lovely eyes, I saw the epitome of a Japanese woman - a willingness to accept and please - no matter what was asked of her. That was all I needed as my hips jerked and thrusting deep into her sucking mouth, I exploded in a supernova of seething semen.

Startled at first, Kiyomi urgently sought to gulp all that I shot into her sucking mouth with only a small creamy trickle escaping the corner of her lips. It was only after she had finished gulping down my wad that Kiyomi took a deep breath and then sighed wistfully, "Ooh, Damon-san, what has become of me? I have shamelessly done things I never thought possible. Oooh, I am so ashamed for I have become...so brazen...so wanton."

"Dame (Stop it), Kiyomi-chan. Because your marital education has been sorely neglected, the passions you have just experienced seem strange, overwhelming, and somehow forbidden. But, this is not so, and must be corrected. However, first things first...

"Kiyomi-chan, because of you and your demonstrated willingness to do whatever was necessary on behalf of your unappreciative husband," I said after a poignant pause, "I will allow Ichiro to stay - but, not a teacher - but as a research librarian. He can translate to his heart's content and save face by contributing immensely to the University's English-Japanese curriculum, his department, and the University.

"You - will continue to be his wife. You will perform all wifely duties expected of you, and take care of your husband, Ichiro - except for sex unless Ichiro specifically asks you. If not, you will comply with Ichiro's wishes not to be distracted from his studies; not to be pressured to father a child; and not to be imposed upon by his sexually demanding wife.

"However, Kiyomi-chan, you shall be my woman. As time permits and my bodily urges require, we shall discretely meet so that I may continue educating you in the erotic art of pillowing. I know of a very exclusive 'love hotel' where I may continue your proper instruction. Then after you have pleased me, I will send you home - content and satisfied - with your luscious body trembling from our love making and seeping with my manly semen.

"For if you agreed to these conditions and please me, all will be well. Is this what you desire, Kiyomi-chan?"

Kiyomi slipped from the couch to the floor before me. Gathering and composing herself in her nudity, she knelt before me before me. Then placing her two touching hands on the floor in front of her, Kiyomi bowed deeply to me with her forehead hovering just above the diamond formed by her hands.

"Hai, Damon-sama," Kiyomi intoned formally, indicating my new role in her life. "While Ichiro may be my husband, I shall be your woman. I will do whatever you desire so that my husband may save face and be content. You shall be my sensei as I shall be your obedient pupil. I humbly look forward to your next lesson."

Then creeping forward to my lap, Kiyomi sensuously kissed, licked and sucked my throbbing slime-coated cock. Then as she began to mouth one of my hairy testicles, she muttered, "Hai, Damon-sama...uhmmm...my lord and master...uhmmm...I'm yours...uhmmm...to do with what you will...uhmmm."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For those of you who might have been confused with the use of "-chan" and "-san" and "-sama" attached to the end of the character's names, they are Japanese honorifics that denote social standing and relationship status. "Kiyomi-chan" was use by Damon to reflect her cuteness, his affection for her, and that she is much younger. "Damon-san" was used by Kiyomi to denote respect for Damon being the department head. When Kiyomi shifted to "Damon-sama," it signified her elevation Damon's social standing in her life and acceptance of his superior rank (e.g., her lord or master) while also denoting her inferior status (e.g., servant or slave) to him.

Also, if you never have heard of them, the Japanese "love hotels" are short-stay establishments that discretely cater to couples seeking a tryst or carrying on an affair. With little interaction with the hotel's staff or other guests, these hotel provide a high degree of intimacy and a full array of amenities to include erotic goodies. The privacy provided allows a couple to do whatever they choose. Hmmm, perhaps the seed for the next Kiyomi story to come.