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College

My name is Jason, and this is my story of how I went from an angry teenage “motherfucker” to a young man who is confident of himself and his sexual mastery of women…or at least one woman, Akemi, my Japanese stepmother.

When I met Akemi, I was a bad-ass punk who grew up as a loner and a rebel. I blamed much of this on my asshole of a father, who didn’t want to deal with me when my mother died. Dad was some sort of college jock who turned businessman and was full of himself, if you know what I mean. How he ended up marrying my mother is a mystery to me (and to him, I think), and as he constantly reminded me, I was the “oops” moment in his grand scheme of things. When my mother unexpectedly passed away, Dad who fancied himself as a ladies’ man, didn’t want a seven-year-old brat cramping his style or chances with the women. So, it was off to boarding school with me.

At first, I passively rebelled by flunking much of my school work that I could have done with my eyes shut. But this just resulted in stupid remedial courses, teasing classmates, and nagging teachers. After being held back a grade, I decided to change with way I acted out. I did so by getting back at people who sought to make my life miserable by making theirs worse.

The labels of “incorrigible” or “juvenile delinquent” were applied to me, and I was expelled and bounced from one boarding school to another. Besides irritating my father, the only other perk of my bad-boy persona was that I attracted more than my fair share of female boarders. You’d be surprised how many girls were willing to stray from the straight and narrow of boarding school life to traipse briefly on the wild side with me.

In retrospect, I now realize that although my father was upset at having to respond to school officials and then having to find a new school, he couldn’t care less what happened to me. This was apparent when he made the perfunctory appearances at parental events and never failed to slip his off-handed reminder about what a “pain-in-the-ass” I was just before he left.

The only other time I saw my father was when he trotted out one of my new stepmothers. The ‘Three Stooges’ – or ‘Moe, Larry, and Curly’ as I called them – were the classic mid-twenties bimbos – proxied-blond, busty, and dumb – who couldn’t string words together to make a coherent sentence. They were all smiled in pseudo-friendliness when they met me and then proceeded to ignore me once my old man did. By the way they fawned over my father, I knew that they were financially dependent on him and earned their keep by lying flat on their backs with their legs spread wide. That is until some other skirt happened to catch my father’s wandering eye, and they were dumped like me.

Akemi, however, was intriguingly different. The minute I laid eyes on Akemi I was thunderstruck and so was she, judging slight widening of her almond-shaped eyes which was immediately followed by a subtle smile that graced her delicate lips. She was a naturalized Japanese which became immediately apparent when she bowed when introduced to me. I remember when my father chided her for doing so, Akemi serenely said, “A woman always bows to a man as a sign of deference. I definitely see a man before me.” This response pissed my father off to no end, but Akemi paid him no heed, and I found myself immediately warming to and interested in my new stepmother.

Her Asian exoticness was highlighted in her demure but discerning eyes, classic high cheekbones, straight nose, and an inviting mouth. Her long black hair was pulled back from her attractive face into a simple ponytail that fell down her back to just above her narrow waist. Standing about five-foot-four, Akemi was dressed in a simple but chic black slip dress that molded to her slender figure and casually accentuated her modest curves. When combined with her cultured Oriental grace, Akemi was subtly alluring and certainly sensuous.

Akemi was further distinguished from Three Stooges who could barely walk and chew gum at the same time, by a certain sense of maturity. Although she looked a few years older than her predecessors, I was surprised to find that she was thirty, some twelve years older than me; ran a shiatsu massage business out of her home; and as such was financially independent of my father. I also discovered that Dad had given up his “bachelor” pad to live with her when Akemi insisted that I spend the winter break of my senior year at her house much to my father’s scowling disapproval.

Because I haven’t lived with my Dad and stepmoms since attending my various boarding schools, I balked at first at my new stepmother’s invitation. It was then that Akemi took a step forward to place herself between my Dad and me, and bowed to me from the waist. In doing so caused her dress to fall forward to give me a teasing but fleeting glimpse of the tops of her modest ivory breasts cupped in a black lacy strapless bra.

Then with smiled as she straightened and with an intriguing bahis firmaları twinkle in her slanted eyes, Akemi said in a silky-smooth tone that only I could hear, “Jason-san, do you not feel a special bonding between us? I do, and know that you are now a part of my life. Your father will be traveling during the Holidays on business, and if you honor my wish, we will have a chance to get to know each other. It would be my pleasure if you will share my home for everything in it, is yours.”

It went without saying that my answer was, “Okay.”

Still, when I rang Akemi’s doorbell a couple of weeks later, I was wondering what the hell had I gotten myself into. However, once Akemi opened the door, whatever reservations I may had simply disappeared. Her face immediately brightened upon seeing me as a wide smile graced her delicate lips. She bowed quickly to me and I couldn’t help but notice that her long hair had been lazily pinned up to tantalizing expose her lovely alabaster neck and shoulders – an unspoken a hint of things to come.

“Jason-san! Welcome to my humble abode. Please sit here,” as she directed me to a small padded bench just inside of the entryway.

As I sat, Akemi knelt before me and began to unlace my shoes. “In my house, we do not wear shoes,” she said as my Vans were deftly removed. Whatever I might have said froze in my throat for as Akemi bent over, her thin scoop-neck sweater fell forward to treat me to one hell of a breathtaking view of her braless tits.

Tender cones of snow-white flesh dangled mouthwateringly before my eyes. Each was topped with a delectable puffy dark pink areola from which a delicious cylindrical nipple jutted up and out. Then just as my mouth began to water, Akemi straightened and smiling at me said, “Please honor me by wearing these slippers that I purchased especially for you. Come, let me show you your new home.”

Akemi’s house was a narrow three-story structure built on a steep slope for a panoramic view of the city. The first floor was dedicated to Akemi’s shiatsu business. The right-side consisted of a small lounge just off the entryway, and a small office that was tucked in the far-right-corner and under a stairwell that led to the second floor. A restroom and changing room for her customers were straight ahead. The ofuro (Japanese hot tub) room occupied the far-left-corner and her massage room to the left of the entryway.

“My late husband insisted that our house was traditionally Japanese. So, you will find that the ‘tatami’ (straw mats) in the rooms which a separated by ‘shoji’ (rice paper sliding) doors. This lets me change the floor configuration as needed. Please bring your suitcase, and let me show you the upstairs of our house.”

I enjoyed watching swaying of her lithe form as Akemi ascended the stairs. At the top of the stairs, we immediately enter a second-floor combination kitchen and dining area. A small restroom was under the stairs that led to the third floor, and on the other side of the floor was a modest living room.

The third floor consisted of a study area and the master bedroom that was separated by a bathroom. Except for the bathroom, the other rooms were defined by sliding paper screens which Akemi showed me as she drew a screen to make the study area into a small room.

“Jason-san, this will be your room. We do not have beds because we sleep on futons (sleeping mattresses) that can be folded and stored to provide space. Why don’t you join me in my bedroom and chat while I finish packing your father’s suitcases since he leaves early tomorrow morning for another of his two-week trips.”

The master bedroom was a large room with a panoramic view of the city. I lounged about casually watching Akemi pack, taking in her casual grace and natural beauty. She shyly inquired about my life but wasn’t at all shocked when I shared my dislike for my father, my well-earned bad-boy reputation, and the various girls that I had bedded. I, in turn, discovered that “Akemi” meant “bright and beautiful,” that she had been about my age when she was first married and immigrated to the States; and that my father was only the second man she had known intimately.

Then having finished packing, Akemi nodded slightly to me and said softly, “Please forgive me, Jason-san, but I must dress for your father wants to take me to dinner tonight. My apologies, but he was quite insistent in making reservations for only two. I have, however, prepared dinner for you and it is in the refrigerator. You only need to warm it in the microwave oven.”

I told Akemi not to worry about the situation because my father and I didn’t get along and that I could use the time to rest and relax. “Thank you, Jason-san, for being so understanding,” Akemi said as she bowed to me to once again flash me a glimpse of her tits. “I promise you that we will have more time once he has departed to become intimately acquainted.

“Now please excuse me for a moment, Jason-san,” she kaçak iddaa said as she started to slide a shoji door between us, “but I must dress for your father will be home soon. He is an impatient man if he is kept waiting.” With that Akemi slide a screen to enclosure herself in her bedroom. Yet, what she didn’t realize was that the setting afternoon sun clearly silhouetted her enticing figure against the rice paper partitions. I watched as she undressed, her pert tits, the curved buns, and the form of her nudity clearly outlined before slid into her party dress.

Opening the bedroom screen, Akemi turned as she pulled her long hair together and lifted it to present me with an unzipped royal blue party dress. “Jason-san, would you be so kind as to zip me up,” Akemi murmured. As I complied with her request, I couldn’t help but notice that there was just a hint of a skimpy tong and no bra strap. It was then that I realized just how much I envied my Dad.

My brief reunion with my father was regrettable and forgettable. After he and Akemi left, I ate, lounged about, showered, and decided to hit my bed, or should I say “futon,” early. I was in a deep sleep when I awoke to the sounds of a woman in “distress” and knew immediately that woman was Akemi. With my heart beating in my throat, I crept to peep through a slight crack between the shoji doors of the master bedroom, and received the surprise of my life.

There was Akemi stark naked on her hands and knees with my equally naked Dad fucking the living hell out her doggy-style. With each thrust of his hips, Akemi whimpered in pain as if a bar of white-hot bar of iron had been rammed into her pussy. With her long dark hair tossing and clinging to her sweat-covered body, her clearly visible tits flopped back and forth, jiggling wildly, with each thrust of his hips.

Akemi suddenly lowered her head to the futon and shoved her butt back into my father, driving him crazy in the process. However, as I strained to get a better view without falling through thin screen walls, Akemi subtly turned her head towards where I hid and looked directly at me as she cleared her hair from her face. With a sensuous smile, she slid a finger over her delectable lips and gave me an unmistakable wink to my complete amazement and confusion.

By this time Dad was gripping her hips slapping his loins against Akemi’s quivering buns. With a guttural roar, he yanked her back to him, literally lift her from the floor as he spewed his guts into her churning twat. Akemi took all that he could give until he was spent, panting, and draped over her back. Then like a loose sack of potatoes, Dad just dropped off to the side to sprawl on his back in utter exhaustion.

Akemi took a nearby thin cloth towel and swiftly wedged it between her legs to catch his oozing sperm discharge. Then spinning around as she pulled her long hair from her face, my lovely Japanese stepmother proceeded to dutifully lick my old man’s cock and nuts clean.

Dad was snoring heavily by the time Akemi righted herself. In no great rush to cover her nudity, Akemi casually eased herself into a thin robe but did not bother to close it. She then combed out her long ebony locks until her hair cascaded smoothly down her back, her swaying breasts and stiff nipples playing a teasing game of hide-and-seek from the folds of her open robe. Finally composing herself, Akemi looked direct at the crack between the shoji doors, and slowly bowed to me before reaching to turn off the bedroom small lamp.

I rushed back my room in the darkness. Shedding my sleep pants and underwear, I immediately jerked off, quickly blowing my wad into a handful of Kleenex tissue. After a brief respite in which I laid on my futon and recalled what I had just witness. With visions of a naked Akemi willingly submitting to my horny old man, my hand once again found and gripped my hardening penis. My fantasy, however, soon became one in which I was the one mounting and taking my willing stepmother, and I swiftly erupted a second load into another wad of tissue.

The next morning, I found Akemi sipping tea in the kitchen. “Good morning, Jason-san,” she said with a slight nod. “I hope you slept well,” Akemi paused before continuing after a slight pause, “and that your father and I did not ‘disturb’ you too much last night.”

I was stunned at Akemi’s subtle innuendo about my voyeurism, and before I knew it, I said, “You knew I was there. You saw me last night, watching the two of you, letting me see you naked…and having sex. And yet, you didn’t say anything, or try to hide yourself from me.”

“In Japan, Jason-san, we live in such close quarters and are often separated by thin shoji screens. We have a different attitude about nudity and personal relationships. I am not ashamed of my body, or my bodily functions, or my discharging my spousal obligations. And as I have said before, I feel a special bond with you and as such, I am comfortable with you seeing me as you did.

“Your kaçak bahis father does not normally need to relieve his physical urges before he goes on a long business trip; however, last night he was rather ‘insistent’ when it came to pillowing me. I believe that your presence in my house gave him reason to demonstrate his prowess and dominance to me – a certain possessiveness – something like a ‘dog’ marking its territory. I saw no need to upset him or his inevitable release by informing him of your presence.”

“But – it sounded like he was forcing himself on you. You sounded like you were in pain and being raped. But, then you smiled at me, and later sucked and licked him clean.”

“Ah, Jason-san, let me explain. When I was married to my first husband, I was completely naïve and inexperienced. My mother and aunts instructed me before my wedding that the sole purpose of a Japanese woman was to please her husband – to make his meals, tend to him, and take care of his bodily needs, especially his sexual urges.

However, when ‘pillowing’ with her husband, a proper Japanese wife does not utter carnal pleasures like a ‘woman of the night.’ Instead she must feint reluctance almost to the point of being forced. When physically penetrated, a lady through her cries and sounds must make the man feel and believe that his proportions are simply enormous and that she has never experienced a bigger manhood. Thus, the whimpering you heard last night was to make your father feel like he was a virile samurai who was having his way, forcing himself on and ravishing an innocent farmer’s daughter with his fleshy sword.”

I sat there in stunned silence as I shifted uncomfortably as I sought to hide the stirring in my pants. I was sure that Akemi saw my physical reaction but she casually changed the topic by asking if I was hungry. I absently mentioned that I normally was a brunch-person, and then asked about her plans for the day.

“Well, I have no customers scheduled for the next two weeks in part because of the Seasons and because the chilly weather. I will use the lull to clean, and I was planning to scrub the ofuro and wash area. If you would assist me, I am sure that we can spend the rest of the day getting to know each other better.”

After a quick change of clothes, I joined Akemi in the ofuro room. I found her dressed in a loose cotton tank top and baggy shorts. By the way the front of her top quivered, I knew she was braless, and when she bent over or squatted, Akemi gave me inviting glimpses of her slender but shapely legs and her thong-covered crotch. I knew t that I would definitely enjoy helping Akemi and that this was destined to be a day to remember.

Akemi nonchalantly shared more of her life with me as we worked. “I did not know my first husband, Kenji, because our marriage was arranged by our fathers who were massage colleagues. Kenji was much older than me, and had immigrated to this country to open his own massage business in this city. He eventually become a naturalized American citizen much to the dismay of his parents.

“I did not know at the time, but Kenji resented being ‘forced’ into marrying me, and on our wedding night he took me, forcefully using me without hesitation or reservation. It was sufficient to say, I did not have to feign pain when Kenji deflowered me. Although I was a young woman about your age, I was terribly innocent in the ways of the world and especially men. I did not know any better and came to think that pain was a normal part of marital sex. And in the end, I did as my mother had instructed me and submitted to my husband’s physical desires throughout our marriage as painful as they may have been.

“Kenji-san was a strange man who yearned to be American but insisted on the Japanese tradition especially in terms of his house and me. While he demanded that I become a naturalized citizen, Kenji-san expected me to be a traditional Japanese wife who cleaned, washed, cooked, and served him. The only two exceptions were that Kenji wanted me to work once he found that I had learned massage from my father; and the second exception was that he did not want to have children, opting instead to expand his massage business.”

Akemi continued, “I quickly learned that a female masseuse attracted a lot of male clients and some wanted more than just shiatsu. But my husband was quite adamant that if I let my customers have liberties with me, they would come to think of me as a prostitute. Over the years, I learned to deal with such sexually-seeking customers with cultured skills and feminine grace. When my husband died a little over two years ago in an unfortunate automobile accident, I had my own clientele and was successful in all things except one…the pleasure of lovemaking.”

I immediately flashed back to the vision of her naked body from last night and the truthfulness of her statement. However, before I could say anything, Akemi read my facial expression and said, “Your father was at first a client who wanted certain ‘extras.’ He quickly found that I did not allow such liberties or date my customers. However, when I was widowed, he had no qualms taking advantage of my innocence and vulnerability.

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