My name is Nick. I am of Japanese descent and I came
from, what I think of as, a typical family. My father
was transferred here just before I entered high school
– so I have been exposed to both worlds.
As a young boy, my friends and I used to think of girls
in the West as being very liberal and so we desired the
pale skinned blonds from the television and magazines.
After moving away from our ancestral home, I discovered
that contrary to the media, the West is very
conservative – much more so than in Japan. For example,
incest is taboo in the West while you will find the
reverse is true in Japan.
I grew up in a household that was traditional – in the
sense that the women in the family are inferior to the
men. This is not particular about my family only but
common in most households my parent’s age or older. In
a Japanese family the head of the family is the father,
and then the sons, in descending order. The mother or
her daughters have little to no say about how the house
is run.
So if the head of the family looks outside his marriage
for sexual release, his wife can not utter a word, but
to accept her life and the decisions her husband makes.
Her shame to satisfy and interest her husband is
immaterial. She is the woman and she does not matter,
this is not bias, this is just fact. Our society is
based on male dominance.
Oh sure many of the younger female generation in Japan
is trying to change this – but they have long years of
tradition to fight. I only believe this will truly
change after the older generation dies off – until
then, many of the Japanese households are still
traditional in their beliefs.
My home was no different. Even after moving to the West
– at home we spoke Japanese and we lived as when I was
growing up.
An early memory was of my father taking mother into
their bedroom and hearing mother making strange noises
in the next room through the paper walls that separated
us. I heard things that stayed with me until now –
telling mother to do things, sexual things that I
didn’t understand at the time but realized they excited
me for some reason.
As I grew older these sounds stopped coming from my
parents room and dad would stay out until late in the
evenings. Nothing was said but I felt mother was shamed
in some way.
Not until we transferred to this country did I learn
that father had a mistress – only a few years older
than I – that he paid for her move at the same time we
did. Dad sat with her on the plane – mother acting as
if nothing was wrong, and indeed, giving me more
attention than I would have liked at the time.
I never realized that I was senior to my own mother in
our home until I saw her in just her underwear one day.
It was the turning point in our relationship. No
nothing happened between us – just that I strode from
my room just as mother was leaving the shared bathroom
on the top floor – she had her own room separate from
fathers – when we both just stopped surprised at the
sudden appearance of the other.
My eyes drifted down uncontrollably and I saw the hint
of darkness where her nipples lay beneath her bra and
her pussy beneath her white cotton panty. I must have
glared long enough for mother’s cheeks to turn red and
she whispered, “Excuse me son.” I watched her walk down
the hall to her room, her ass moving voluptuously, with
a nervous over the shoulder glance in my direction.
-*-
Up until that day mother was not even considered a
woman in my eyes if you understand? I never looked at
her like I looked at girls my own age – she was just,
you know, my mother. But that incident convinced me
that mother had these gorgeous curves that many of my
peers were lacking. That she was beneath me within the
peaking order of our home, did not hit me until late
that same night.
Instead of the blond big breasted girl in my class, I
thought of my own mother as I stroked myself. As I did
that act my fantasies conjured up some wild images that
easily helped me to ejaculate. It was after, catching
my breath, that I realized mom was a woman. One that
dad seemed to enjoy ignoring – so her destiny could
fall upon my guiding shoulders. Thinking back, it was a
very strange feeling – realizing mother had to do what
I told her. And as long as dad did not find out, or
object, more because it would embarrass him and cause
him to loose face, I could do whatever I wished.
Don’t think I lost all interest in blond haired white
girls – on the contrary, this was more of a convenient
and obtainable outlet for my growing sexual frustration
at that time in my life. It felt like I was never going
to loose my virginity back then, especially to a blond
haired white girl.
So I strode into the bathroom as mother showered one
day – she was just stepping out of the tub when she
froze looking at me – then her eyes looked for a towel
and found only the one in my hand. She stood naked and
dripping outside the tub, with her hands trying
unsuccessfully to cover her abundant curves and female
secrets.
I was in heaven – the first woman I had ever seen
naked. The wide nipples, the oh so smooth flesh of her
heavy breasts, the way her waist tapered and then
flared out to her hips, the silky darkness of her pubic
hair – she was perfect in my eyes. Only when I reached
her face, and I am a little ashamed that I had started
from the bottom and worked my way up, did I see her
tears, her fear and her humiliation. She could do
nothing and we both knew it.
Father did not want her and we both knew it.
I dropped the towel onto the floor and turned to leave
– feeling like a jerk, that I had discredited the
family honour. When supper came around and we sat to
eat, nothing was said, she acted towards me as she
always had. This calmed my self-loathing more than a
little.
Strangely I never feared that she would tell father
about my indiscretion in the bathroom – she could not
embarrass him that way.
When darkness came, mother’s naked flesh was in my
fantasies as I stroked myself before sleep.
-*-
The next day, with dad gone, she seemed nervous near me
– as if forcing her normalcy within our relationship
was impossible when alone. Was she scared of me now?
Why?
As crazy as this sounds, the way my mother was acting
towards me was turning me on. I have a hard time
realizing why this is but guess that it is based upon
feeling like a man for the first time in my life. I
felt like I could grunt at her to come into my room and
I would give her a command like dad used to do back
when we lived in Japan when I was younger. “Take me
into your mouth…”, “… on your knees woman…”,
“…move that ass faster…” She would do it – that was
the realization in my head – that I could do it with
her at any time.
These thoughts scared me. Rather than take her up to my
room and loose myself in her submissiveness, I rushed
from the house to meet my friends.
That was the night I stole a still-warm panty from her
dirty laundry and used it to masturbate too before bed.
The thing was, the next day when I got home after
school and found it was missing from where I had left
it on the floor by my bed. I did a search and found it
folded in the clean clothing on top of the drier –
mother never said a word.
-*-
I am not sure how long it was that mother and I lived
our awkwardness whenever near the other – but I could
not help but look upon her as a willing concubine and
she looked upon me as if she was the deer living with a
hungry lion. The next direct act by me may seem rather
tame to you, but to a virgin teenager with a never-
ending libido, it was a passionate encounter. Dad sat
on the couch laughing at some television show while
mother sat next to him knitting, smiling politely but
probably paying the show no attention.
I had been sitting on the floor before the couch, my
back against it, when mother sat down to be with dad
and I. The couch itself was another act by dad that we
should life like Westerners did – we even sat in chairs
at a table for our meals.
I immediately realized how close we were, her knees and
calves nearly couching my upper arm and shoulder.
Trying to keep my head faced forwards, in case dad
should look down, I strained my eyes to see that
mother’s legs were bare of her normal nylons. Since
that day I had caught her in her underwear and only
reinforced by witnessing her nudity, mother’s legs were
beautiful – strong, smooth and curvy.
Wearing skirts and never slacks at any time, her lower
legs were always visible. I have noticed how they
bunched up when she stretched upon her toes, or how
they reshaped when she squatted – I have noticed so
much about her those last weeks.
The act was not proceeded by a conscious thought, I
just stretched out my hand and laid it with my paw
grasping her thick calf. I heard her knitting needles
become silent – but dad broke out laughing at another
joke on the television and I realized how brazen I was
doing this. That didn’t cause me to retreat, instead I
became aggressive in my mauling – feeling one calf and
then the other, moving from just the back of her knee
to her ankles. Her flesh was smooth but firm, she
tensing at my touch, and it was so warm.
It is hard to imagine, now years later, just how erotic
it was to touch the smooth soft warm flesh of a woman’s
calf. How innocent was I? Or perhaps I was simply less
demanding in my pleasures back then.
The television program was over way too quickly though
I must have pawed my mother’s legs for several minutes
at least, when father sat up to shut off the
television. I realized too late that he could see me
groping his wife, my mother, as he moved to stand up –
when mother’s half finished knitted sweater dropped
suddenly over her legs, effectively hiding my sin from
her husband’s eyes.
-*-
Less than twenty minutes later I stood before the
mirror of the bathroom brushing my teeth when mom
slipped in the door soundlessly. She looked furious,
“How dare you?” she hissed.
I rinsed and spit, saw that her humiliation was hidden
behind her anger – at least for now.
“Do you want to hurt your father – is that it?”
This line of thought had never entered my mind –
purposely touching my mom to get at my father. How
atrocious. I did not have time to conjure up a reason
why mother may have thought this when I heard dad’s
footsteps approach from down the hallway.
Mother and I froze.
“Are you there?” His voice always so deep and
commanding – so unlike men from the West.
Mother looked horrified that he may know she was there
in the bathroom with me. Of course nothing was going on
but it was certainly inappropriate. “I am just getting
ready for bed.”
And the oddest thing happened at that moment in time –
I noticed how her fear caused her chest to heave, her
breasts raising and falling so expressively. So with
trembling hands I reached out and before mother
realized what I was doing, grasped both her meaty
breasts in my big paws. Her eyes shot to me in horror
and shock but otherwise did not move.
But I did not care, I held the first female breasts in
my life and they were glorious. Mother swayed as if she
were going to faint and could not look at me after that
single emotion-filled gaze.
“Have you ironed my white shirts?”
Mother swallowed thickly, my hands moving aggressively
all over her chest. “Yes, but they are still hanging up
in the laundry room.” Her voice failed her at that
point with a small squeak that I knew dad could not
have heard.
Tears were rolling down her eyes now.
Father sighed to great effect, “I shall move them to my
room as I will need one tomorrow morning.”
We heard his footsteps recede down the hallways.
Mother just stood there for another minute, head hung
low, as her son mauled her bosoms. I was in heaven.
And then it was over and for the life of me, I could
not tell you if she or I had broke apart first. But I
blinked and I saw her rush from the bathroom leaving me
alone with my thoughts, looking down at my hands
imagining how those soft flesh globes felt.
-*-
After that encounter with mother, if there had been any
doubt or guilt on my part, it had disintegrated with
the touch of my firsts breasts. You should realize that
I spent long hours fantasizing about blond haired girls
with big pale fleshy bosoms – so unlike the girls I had
known in Japan. I had become a boob man since arriving
in the West. Mom’s were larger than the average
Japanese girl my age, but she had extra meat that just
seemed to acute her curves.
Just the next day I strode up behind her as she dried
the dishes in the sink to wrap my arms about her torso,
each of my hands filled with tit flesh. She froze and
hissed but otherwise did not move. What else could she
do – dad was not here and I was the man of the house?
When I started to fumble with the buttons on the front
of her dress she finally started to resist, whimpering
‘no’ as her hands fought with my own. I ignored her,
simply focusing on those big meaty breasts. Her dress
was pulled to either side of her chest and I yanked and
tore at her underwear to release those fleshy globes,
possibly hurting her in the process, and then I had my
hands full of soft warm inviting flesh. Mother stopped
fighting me at that point and sobbed as I enjoyed a
pregnant moment alone with her chest.
While this had been going on I was rhythmically shoving
the hardness in my pants into the soft crack of her
ass, pressing her hips against the edge of the counter.
So innocent in the ways of women was I back then, that
I never recognized how mother’s sobs had turned to deep
laboured breathing, how her buttocks pressed back into
my groin or how her nipples hardened almost to diamond-
like points.
No, when the moment became almost too much for me to
bear, I pulled myself away from my mother and rushed up
to my room and flung myself into my bed. I orgasmed in
seconds, panting while smiling at the power I had over
my own mother.
-*-
Mother, I should explain, was a typical middle-aged
Japanese woman of the time. She was short with a round
and cute face. As she had aged she had gained weight,
much of it going into her breasts and ass – so that
both caused her to have this exaggerated curved figure.
She had tiny ankles and feet, wide strong calves from
being on her feet so much and shoulder length straight
black hair that she wore tucked behind her ears.
She was as far from the blond-haired girls of my
fantasies as I could get. But that just did not seem to
matter to my lust.
So just one of my school days not long after the
kitchen incident, it was particularly difficult as I
had continually been assaulted by beautiful blond
haired girls in my school. They seemed to be constantly
around me – one even talking to me. I walked around
half the day with a hard penis behind my school bag. I
was practically in a trance as I finally strode through
the door to our home and found mother standing
surprised with an arm full of clothing.
“Is father home?”
Her head nervously replied in the negative.
My school bag dropped and I rushed as if half-insane.
The clean clothing fell to the floor and I wrapped my
arms about my short cute curvy mom, my lips attacking
her neck and cheek and jaw even as I humped my
painfully hard penis into her soft stomach. She did not
resist but I felt her move her face so that we were
facing and then our lips touched, opened and I tasted
her kisses. It just made me hotter so that I was
whimpering as if in pain.
Hands fumbled between us, with my belt and zipper. Was
it my own? My whole consciousness focused on my penis
as that strong tiny hand wrapped around my hardness and
held it. Mother slipped her tongue into my mouth and
kissed me passionately as her hand began to move slowly
up and down.
I was putty in her hands, no longer the ravaging animal
but the whimpering stud. It took literally seconds for
me to start pumping my seed upon my mothers hip and
thighs, soiling her flower patterned dress, her nylons.
I came in copious amounts which left me panting with
exhaustion.
Then it was over and I stepped back to look at my
mother – something had changed in her, she did not look
horrified at my touch, at the sperm dripping from her
clothing.
“Go up to your room and leave me to tidy up?” It wasn’t
an order but I could see that she will need to change
her clothing, refold the laundry strewn over the floor
and do at least another load of wash. I remember
nodding dumbly and moving up to my room after
retrieving my bag – her eyes following me the whole
time.
Only after I changed my own pants, which had a few
marks of evidence of my earlier ejaculation, did I
realize that I had just gotten my first hand job.
-*-
A Japanese lady is often a quiet polite woman that
always defers to the man of the house. It practically
trains the men in her life to become more dominant,
controlled. When I listened to my parents have sex when
I was younger, listening to dad order his wife to
pleasure him – it was the natural role in their
marriage. With his abandonment of their marriage bed
for another, humiliating his polite and silent wife,
did that her possibilities of a lover, the next male in
the house – me?
I had to be careful of course – dad could never
discover what I did with his wife else he would loose
face. He was the head of our family and I deferred to
him as much as my own mother did.
The opportunities to be alone for any amount of time in
our home was not as frequent as I would have liked. I
had to wait until Saturday until my father went golfing
that I knew I had hours with mother.
Finding her dressing to go out, she explained that she
was going shopping for new clothing. I was disappointed
and told her I wanted her to stay home. She looked
sheepishly at me and then took her jacket off. My heart
began to thump faster at that moment.
I took her into the living room and sat beside her. We
began kissing passionately, saliva soon dripping from
our chins as our tongues duelled. Mother whimpered as I
mauled her beautiful breasts. Her hands again had
withdrawn my penis, stroking me steadily as we necked.
One of my hands landed on her nylon covered thigh,
slipping up beneath the hem of her skirt.
Mother spread her knees without any direction, my hand
cupping her covered crotch – finding it warm thought
the two layers of undergarments as well as decidedly
moist. She was soon humping into my hand as I stroked
that part of her, my own cock speeding up in her
aggressive fisting. I let out a loud bear growl as my
seed pumped from my cock, splatting and dribbling down
her fist, onto her arm and onto my tee-shirt covered
stomach.
We both fell back onto the couch, her thighs still
spread with her skirt to her navel, me with my half
hard penis hanging from my jeans. We both appraised the
other, her eyes devouring my drooling prick.
When mother started to close her legs, to retreat from
the couch, I stopped her with a wave of my hand. She
looked surprised but not hurt by my silent command.
Leaning over I slowly unbuttoned her flowered patterned
dress, from neck to naval, spreading it wide to expose
her lace white bra.
For the life of me I could not see how to remove this
undergarment and instead hefted out her soft pliable
flesh so that they hung above the bra high up on her
chest. The pale flesh, for a Japanese person, was
capped with a dark brown wide nipple – wrinkled to a
point. I took one nipple into my mouth while twisting
the other between thumb and forefinger.
Mother gasped in surprise and perhaps delight, one hand
stroking the back of my head as I ate from her flesh.
For long minutes did I suck from her teats, as if
hungry for the milk I had received as a baby. She was
mewing in pleasure, clenching her thighs together while
wiggling her ass beneath me. Looking up from her chest,
I could see my mothers round mature face clenched
tight, her mouth open as she gasped with pleasure of my
touch. It was an empowering moment.
As I had sucked upon her flesh, I had been humping my
renewed hardness into her nylon covered thigh. The
intensity of my second explosion left me dizzy and
almost without strength in my limbs. I pumped my seed
all over her thighs while distantly realizing mother
was thrashing beneath me while making some pretty
intense noises of her own.
We lay intertwined for a good long while before she
stood to leave. I followed and she smiled over her
shoulder as I followed her to her small room, smaller
even than my own. I sat on the edge of her bed and
watched her strip down her wrinkled soiled clothing to
her plain white cotton panty. I saw with pleasure that
the front gusset of the panty was dark with wetness and
only then did I realize the new smell coming from her
body.
I could have fucked my mother right there and then –
she would never have denied me.
Instead, seeing her son’s penis again hard and lewdly
thrusting from her open soiled jeans, she knelt before
me submissively. I enjoyed the seconds in this position
before her hands rose and both enclosed my penis yet
again. I watched her work at my hardness, patiently
stroking me up and down – her big bare breasts swaying
hypnotically side to side.
It was when she leaned in closer to rubbed her hard
nipples and soft breast flesh over my hard drooling
cock did I really get into it – my passion rising like
the mercury thermometer. So that in another moment I
was panting, watching as if delirious with a
temperature as my seed pumped for the last time that
day over the delicious flesh of her breasts.
Mother knelt there smiling at me softly as I was
finally sexually sated for the day.
-*-
Back then there was no email and the way we
communicated from afar was through hand written
letters. Leaving Japan I had left several friends – and
had exchanged letters with all of these for a long
while until only one friend lasted the extended
separation. We spoke about what teenagers talk about –
usually girls.
Months before my friend, Saito, had noticeably stopped
discussing girls – wanting to hear about all those
strange and wonderful things that he can not experience
back in Japan. My comments about blond girls with big
boobs went unchallenged, no comments forthcoming. Only
after seeing my mother come from the bathroom naked did
I notice this admission on his part.
I wrote a long letter about my confusion, about my
strange attraction to my parent, about my parents
separated and cold relationship – it was confusing and
disjointed. I did not want to look like a pathetic fool
but I needed someone to discuss this strange occurrence
in my life.
So after that eventful Saturday I received Saito’s
return letter and read it with surprise and
exhilaration. Almost as if it was a normal occurrence,
and years later did I realize that it may just be, he
explained that he and his mother have been lovers for
several months. It was kept from his father, of course,
but as long as he concentrated on his studies and not
date other girls, his mother would be available for
him. He also said that given my parents relationship
that he was surprised I had not moved into this role
with her yet.
At that age, I reacted stupidly to this comment and
resolved that my next reply would include a more
correct response.
-*-
Being the good company man that he was, father attended
numerous functions. Infrequently this included mother –
normally to his peers or superiors dinner parties. At
one such, less than a week from our intense Saturday
encounter and after I had received Saito’s response, I
went into mother’s bedroom after I heard father go out
to the garage to get the car ready for their short
trip.
Mother looked up in surprise at my unannounced entrance
and started to look worried until I explained where
father was. We would be able to hear him enter the
house if he returned and had little fear of being
caught together.
I sat on the edge of her bed that I had sat on when
mother had used her hands to pump my seed all over her
pale breasts the other day. I watched as she sat at her
cosmetic table applying the final touches to her
makeup. Her eyes nervously looking at me in the
reflection. She looked very nice, in a dark dress with
black sheer nylons and black heels. She never wore
makeup around the house and I was pleased to see that
she used it conservatively now.
When she finally laid the odd looking instrument back
to the top of her table, I knew she was ready to follow
father out to the car.
“Come to me tonight mother.”
She turned in her chair and looked at me sharply for a
good couple seconds. “Your father?”
“After he is asleep.”
We looked into each others eyes and I knew she
understood what I wanted.
-*-
The moon was full and allowed enough light into my room
to make everything glow with an odd gray effect.
Mother’s white bathrobe slipped soundlessly into my
room and she froze at the end of my bed looking down at
me. She was breathing heavily, almost panting and I
wondered if her nipples were hard yet. The robe fell
without any forewarning and mother stood wearing only
white cotton panties – the rest of her flesh glowing
eerily in the moonlight.
My blanket was thrown to the side and mother gasped to
see me already naked, already hard. As if in a dream
she stepped around to the edge of the bed and looked
down at her son. My hand slipped up and stroked the
outside of her panty, finding it hot and already
saturated with her excitement.
Mother hooked her thumbs into her panties and slipped
them down her curves to step out of them. I indicated
with a hand that she should pass her panty to me, and
almost embarrassed she did, standing watching as her
son put the soiled garment to his nose and inhaled
deeply. Again that distinctive scent I had smelt in her
room the weekend before, but much more potent.
Like a dream things quickly altered, so that mother
climbed over her son to straddle his thin hips with her
knees, she held my hard cock straight up and positioned
herself above. I felt the hot wet kiss of her sex
before she descended and life would never be the same.
Mother moved with long slow movements of her hips,
fucking herself slowly upon my hard cock. Her fat
beautiful breasts hanging and swaying above me so that
I watched them hypnotically. My hands had reached
around and grasped her full soft round ass.
I was experiencing and thrilled all at the same time.
Surprised at how intense the feeling of her sex wrapped
about my cock was – how strong the inner muscles seemed
to clench me possessively, deliciously.
Mother was making these small whimpering noises as if
she were hurt, her eyes clenched tightly, her body
quickly breaking out in a sweat, her muscles already
trembling uncontrollably.
She suddenly collapsed onto my chest and locked her
lips to my own as she let out a muffled scream as her
cunt muscles danced upon my instrument. Her body jerked
and I was too stunned and pleased at the realization
that my mother had orgasmed while fucking me that I did
not take my own selfish pleasure at that time.
My mother rolled like a rag doll off me and lay there,
panting and catching her breath. Her dark eyes open and
starring at me almost in awe. Eventually her hand
slipped down to find me hard and smile spreading on her
lips at the treasure found.
Mother moved with more energy than I would have
expected, climbing onto her knees and elbows, her face
into the pillow with her ass high. A second’s confusion
as I lay on my side as she waited patiently.
Realization came to me as if a light turned on in my
head and I climbed up behind her.
Even in that dim gray light I could see everything at
an angle never before appreciated. The asterisk of her
anus, the mysterious folds of her sex spread out like a
flower moving as if panting or throbbing. Though my
cock was almost painfully hard, I took my time and
touched all that I could see – treasuring the sight for
all time. Not just her vagina but even the long strong
lines of her back, the curves of her soft hips and
waist. From that moment forwards, this would be my
favourite position with any woman I would be with –
silently comparing it to this first time, to my own
mother.
My cock fumbled for an entrance and I felt my face
flush in shame that I could not find it. Mother had not
moved to help so I used my fingers again, allowing them
to slip into the hot dripping wet groove of her sex
until they were engulfed in her body. She moved with
pleasure at the intrusion, pushing her hips back as I
started to fuck her with my fingers. Next attempt, my
cock had better luck – slipping deeply where my fingers
had been.
Mother stuffed a pillow into her mouth and scream with
pleasure as I seated within her for the first time in
this position. It was the most natural of acts to grasp
her soft hips and start to move my hips back and forth
– my pale cock moving dominantly in and out of the
willing wet cunt before it.
Soon her whole body was rocking back and forth, our
sexual organs slamming together loudly, with delicious
juicy sounds. Her body was glistening in the gray
light, sweat pooling on the low points upon her strong
back – dripping down to her shoulders or rolling past
her meaty breasts to the top of my messy bed.
Then I clenched my jaws tight and growled like an
animal, shoving myself as deep as I could into my
parents body as my cock jerked and spit its seed into
my mothers body.
It was my turn to collapse, mother falling to her side
with me so that we lay spooned as if made for the
other. I soon fell asleep, images of mother’s naked
body in my head.
-*-
My parent changed after that eventual night together.
I had awoken alone but with the memory. I found her
soiled panty forgotten beside my bed and I held it to
my face with pleasure.
Later, father sat at the table eating his breakfast and
reading his paper as normal, mother placing my own meal
before me as I sat. Nothing was different – at least,
until father eventually left the house.
Mother rushed into my arms, seated upon my lap, kissing
me passionately. When we broke for air, she looked
different and it took me until I was at school to
realize that it was the smile she gave me – a happy
unrestrained smile that I had never seen before. Mother
rarely showed an extravagance of emotion, let alone joy
– but that was what she showed me then. I had made my
mother happy – it was a strange but pleasant side
affect to my actions, one that I did not regret in the
least.
Naturally my hand grasped a covered breast and her
smile only widened. I nodded towards the table and she
immediately understood and slipped from my lap. I
watched as my mother happily reached beneath her skirt
to push her plain cotton white panty down her long
legs, stepping out and leaving the garment forgotten
the on the floor. Mother faced the table and pushed the
soiled plates away before bending over upon it.
I studied my mother bent over before me for a half
minute before reaching over to flip up the edge of her
skirt to her waist. Mother was bare beneath her skirt,
having not worn nylons and having removed her panty,
and I could see that her sex was already looking moist.
She was breathing heavy as my eyes drunk in this
vision, my hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, her
upper thighs to get a more intimate look. My thumbs
spread the meaty hairy outer lips of her vagina,
spreading her inner lips so that I was shown pink
glistening flower.
She gasped when the finger sunk into her sex, pressing
the side of her face against our dinner table –
unconsciously accepting any act I wished to do with
her. Mother was soon panting and clenching her internal
cunt muscles as my finger frigged her aggressively.
When I thought her ready, I withdrew it and brought the
dripping digit to my face. I smelt that distinctive
scent, I tasted it for the first time – ignoring the
whimpers and wiggles of my anxious parent.
The finger returned and mother mewed with pleasure
until she felt it attempt entrance to her anus. It was
surprisingly resistant to my invasion and I stopped
trying to push into her and instead just applied firm
pressure until it eventually sunk into her to the
second knuckle.
I was surprised to look up to find mother looking over
her shoulder, her eyes wild and glassy, surprised but
nervous and very excited. For some reason this
embarrassed me and my hands withdrew as I stood up. Her
face fell back to the table and she sighed in pleasure
as she wiggled her ass.
My hard cock had little difficulty finding the correct
entrance this time – sinking into her ready body
without a pause.
What else was different from the night before was the
sounds mother made, she did not attempt to muffle her
excitement – and her whimpers of pleasure echoed
through our house as I moved aggressively in and out of
her body.
I fucked in this position for a good long while,
watching and touching everything I could reach. Amused
that mother was drooling from her open mouth so that it
pooled on the table beneath her. My thumb had returned
to her anus and as it moved in and out of her second
entrance, I enjoyed the more animal-like response I
received from her when doing so.
I was able to witness my own mother’s orgasm and
understand it for what it was. She was a lonely,
typical Japanese housewife – ignored sexually – she was
putty for my attentions. I returned to my seat and
snapped my fingers and pointed. With pregnant
movements, mother slipped from the table and knelt
between my thighs and then took the head of my penis
into her mouth. Surprise filled my already heightened
senses – another equally exquisite pleasure had been
discovered.
Mother’s head moved steadily up and down until it left
me gasping for breath and tensing the seconds before I
began to pump my load into her willing mouth. Loudly I
heard her swallow my load and forever after I would
love this intimacy between us.
She lifted her face from my shrinking penis, saliva and
sperm upon her lips and chin – she looked at me almost
embarrassed but she looked pleased never the less. I
patted the top of her head as if she were a pet that
had just pleased me – she beamed in pride and mewed in
response.
-*-
Let me skip ahead nearly two decades.
My wife was my height, taller in heels that I enjoyed
her in, naturally blond haired and had filled out since
our marriage to a voluptuous soft curvy woman. The
three kids that came along filled her life for the
early years of our marriage – she working part time
more recently.
I loved her, I loved my family. But I still fucked my
mother as often as I could.
It wasn’t infatuation, it wasn’t obsession of any kind.
I loved my mother but I also loved to dominate her, to
be the man in her bed.
Through all those years together, she had never denied
me anything. She would do any act for me, seemingly
enjoying and happy at any attention I gave her.
She and dad had not had sex since before she had taken
my virginity that magical night. She was the typical
Japanese housewife, expected to be there for her
husband even though he ignored her in nearly all ways.
Now, much older, he was around more often, having
retired, and he still expected mother to serve him hand
and foot. But they never shared a bed – I asked my
embarrassed and naturally humiliated mother, and she
admitted her shame that her husband did not find her
desirable. Perhaps it allowed me to have an
unrestrained relationship with her and I should be
thankful – but I had always wondered.
My own wife, I should add, even fuller figure and older
of face, was still attractive to me. I fucked her as
frequently as we could – determined to give her the
attention that my mother never received. So we had a
good healthy sex life, even for a couple with grown
kids.
My wife never knew about mother and I and I never
hinted at any other relationship than what she saw. She
stepped naturally into the mixed roll of a white woman
married to a Japanese man. I was in charge, there was
no doubt about that – but, I guess, since there was
nothing she wanted, that our relationship was accepted.
My kids were great – two girls and the boy, he being in
the middle for age. I gave all three the attention I
never received growing up with my parent. Never denying
them the emotional contact of a father – being there
for any need that I may help. My eldest daughter moved
away to college – a tall blond beauty with a hint of
Asian, she was the most beautiful thing in my life.
My boy was a handful, just finishing high school and
filled with energy and intelligence – he was left
wanting for nothing. Then my youngest daughter, my
princess, she was the spoilt one – dark of hair and
eyes but with the pale skin and figure of her younger
mother.
My mother was over frequently – being the babysitter
and voice of wisdom in the early years, to being a
friend to my wife in the later ones. She was the
perfect grandparent and my kids loved her – my wife was
thankful for the traditional closeness of my family.
This also opened up opportunities for secret encounters
with my mother, moments stolen from busy days – she
seeming to need the intimacy as much as I.
Life to this point was blissful – perfect and the life
that I could have picked out as that bumbling Japanese
teenager forced to integrate into the foreign Western
society that I found myself in. The wife of my dreams,
the perfect kids and my own mother as an outlet for my
bold Japanese dominance.
Then it was shattered. Returning into the house from
the still running car, I had forgotten the envelop with
the report I had to meet about. I found my wife and son
kissing passionately in the kitchen, both his hands
grasping her full meaty ass outside her denim shorts,
their tongues exposed as they kissed. I slipped
backwards, out of the house to my car – horrified and
numb – the envelope and meeting forgotten.
I locked myself in my office and hung my head in my
hands, shocked beyond belief at what I had seen. How
could this happen? Why did it happen?
I had given my wife the attention that my father never
gave my mother. Back in the beginning my mother was
starved for any attention, her body on fire at any
touch – so much so that her humiliation at her son
using her was so easily forgotten. My wife could not
compare this with her life – I never sought young
willing girls outside my marriage, I never slept in
another room. And I dare say, with the practise gained
from being my mother’s secret lover, I was an
accomplished husband in our marriage bed.
My son and my wife – lovers!
I could still remember the fire in my veins at the
realization of dominating my mother – of having a
willing female for my passionate teenage desires. I
sensed that heat within the vision I had seen – my son
undergoing a similar path as I had taken. But why had
it started – where else had there been a similar
comparison?
My wife was not even Japanese! She was pale skinned and
blond – the woman of my teenage dreams. She did not
grow up in a household as restrictive and as structured
as I did. Oh sure she had found that our marriage
became this way by natural means – but she was silent
and accepted it without a word.
I thought our lives were perfect.
The day was lost in misery but I had regained something
as my anger rose.
-*-
Two nights later my wife slipped silently from my bed
when she thought me asleep. I waited and then went down
the stairs to where my son’s room was, knowing already
where to find her. The muffled noises within came as no
surprise – I could hear her whimpers, the sloppy
slapping of sex, a single groan of desire from him.
I opened the door to find my blond wife on her knees, a
mouth full of pillow, my son kneeling behind her with
hands filled with her soft fleshy hips as he drove
himself in and out of his mother’s body. They were both
naked and sweaty – all three of us froze, horror
filling my wife’s face, fear in my son.
They broke apart and I saw the hard penis of my son
dripping with juices of his mother as my son hid his
nudity behind his blanket. My wife rushed to me sobbing
and crying with despair, begging me for forgiveness.
My hand shot out and down without a thought and I
struck her hard across the side of the face so that she
was thrown to the floor at my feet. My son stood very
still, on the other side of the bed. “Get to my bed
woman!” Sobbing and whimpering in pain, my wife crawled
quickly to the door and rushed to her feet to run into
the darkness – her voluptuous body bouncing naturally
and wildly. I pointed at my seventeen year old son,
“You, I will talk too later.”
I returned to my marriage bed where I tore the newly
worn nightgown from her body, throwing her onto her
stomach. I raped my wife for the first time –
sodomizing her violently so that there would be blood
on our sheets the next day and she would stay in bed
for half a week afterwards. It was not the first time I
had entered her anally, but the first that I did not
prepare the act with love and gentle attention first.
No – I used her, needing to reminding her who the man
was.
Only after, as I lay panting, she sobbing next to me,
did I realize that I had lost face by my discovery of
her and my son rather than letting it go and ignoring
it. Still not sated in my anger, I retrieved a belt and
struck the back of her thighs and ass again and again
until I fell asleep in exhaustion in the chair facing
my abused sobbing wife.
Our relationship changed forever after that night. I
did not fail to remind her who was the man of our house
– who was the head of our family. My son was forbidden
to be near his mother alone and I carefully watched
them to ensure this directive was followed. My wife I
used nightly – fucking to punish and not for pleasure.
I wanted to humiliate her as she had done me – but I
was only left feeling angry and hollowed of emotion.
It was, oddly, my mother who I confessed too – sobbing
as she held my head tenderly as I revealed it all to
her. Then she told me something that took me completely
by surprise – telling me father had known about us
nearly from the beginning. I was shocked, horrified
that it was known that I was my mothers lover – feeling
like a failure to cause my father to loose face.
She assured me that everything was fine, that her
husband had not lost face or been humiliated because he
no longer desired her, that we had been wise to hide
our intimacy. I looked up into my parents face and then
down to her bare ageing breasts, the puddles of sperm I
had deposited there moments before.
It hit me then, how a Japanese family functions, how it
could allow these incestuous relationships to prosper
in secret. And I felt better than I had in weeks – even
climbing upon my mother for another fuck.
-*-
My son sat terrified beside his equally fearful mother
in our living room. Our youngest daughter would not be
home for some hours and I had staged this after my
mother’s revelation the day before.
“Do you love your mother boy?” I was speaking like a
Japanese I realized, loud and sharp – dominant, the
uncontested head of his home and family. Rarely did I
act this way in our home – always trying to be the
‘normal’ Western husband and father.
Not knowing where this was going my son nervously
nodded positively.
I could not help but lash out, “And you love to fuck
her don’t you?”
My wife jerked at my aggressive confrontation.
Of course my son sat without moving a muscle – his
answer obvious and I was a bully to ask such a
question.
Forcing my voice calmer, “Was she your first?”
He quickly snatched a look beside him to his mother and
then nodded positive to me – embarrassment adding to
his fear.
I asked my wife, “When did it start?”
With a quivering fear-filled voice my wife admitted,
“Three months ago.”
At my son’s age I had been fucking my mother for years
and I had expected a much longer term to their
incestuous relationship.
Silence was thick for the minutes after that question.
I knew after I talked with my mother that I stood to
loose my wife – I could not keep on punishing and
hurting her as I had, not if I wanted to keep her. I
would eventually drive her away, drive her into my
son’s arms anyways. She was no Japanese, that was not
more evident than now.
It was time to explain to them the new arrangement.
“You will move into the spare room immediately.” It was
my eldest daughter’s room and this was effectively
banishing my wife from my bed. She looked up in
surprise, her fear still dominant in her features. “I
am the head of this house and I shall be obeyed.” Such
a Japanese thing to say. “Now go to your new room, the
sight of you makes me angry.”
My wife blinked twice until realizing I was dismissing
her – she stood and rushed from the room, doing as I
asked. Did she think I was going to follow and belt her
again or perhaps rape one of her holes.
My son had sat in silence through this, starring
carefully at the floor before his feet. I softened my
voice and spoke earnestly, “In a typical Japanese
family, after the father, the next male stud comes
next. Do you understand what I am saying?”
My son’s eyes rose to my own but I could see that he
did not understand.
“I want you to go to your mother’s room – be gentle
with her because I had shamefully lost my temper and
hurt her – but give her what she needs.” This time my
son blinked his distinctively Asian eyes at me in
confusion and dawning surprise. “In the secrecy of this
house you have my permission to use your mother.”
‘Use’, not love. Though I loved my mother, it was not a
romantic love – I used her for sex not from some
misguided emotion. “I warn you – do not cause me to
loose face again!”
My son’s face was slowly showing his surprise and
dawning joy and he nodded positively. Eventually, “I am
sorry dad.”
I held back the tear I felt start and nodded. I waved
for him to go, “Go to your mother boy – enjoy her.” As
I had for many years. I was suddenly feeling proud of
this decision and not so nervous – this was the right
thing to do.
I also felt a little saddened, some part of me that had
publicly denied my heritage by desiring a life so
unlike my parents had come apart. Without any knowing
act of my own, we were more like your typical Japanese
family after all.
My son stopped just before exiting the room, “Thank you
dad.” I nodded as if it was nothing to give your son
your wife for his sexual pleasure.
I saw the question before he asked, answering before it
was voiced, “It is how its done in a Japanese family
son.” He nodded as if understanding – and then I saw
the spark of realization form within in, realizing that
I had just admitted an intimate knowledge of his
grandmother, my own parent.
He turned and fled the room – overjoyed at this sudden
change of heart in his father. I passed my wife’s room
twenty minutes later and heard the slow rhythmic
movements of the springs of the unused bed – her sighs.
I left the house as if it were my last day, but it was
only the first of our renewed family life.
Things changed after that. I found myself a sexy young
mistress that I enjoyed. Oh, I didn’t completely stop
fucking my wife – but it was usually on special
occasions, after a party or after drinking. My son was
overjoyed – probably using his mom day after day, in
all ways that he could imagine. My wife had become less
animated, less emotional – almost, dare I say it, more
Japanese – she rarely smiled, she did her duty and
spoke little.
My father died around that time and I had mother move
to an apartment close to our house – I visited her
frequently and my wife and son understood our
relationship was much like their own – perhaps
foretelling their future.
-*-
It was a couple years later, my son having moved across
the country after college and had gotten married.
Unlike my relationship with my parent, he had stopped
having sex with his mom after meeting his future bride.
Oh, I think they were intimate on the very rare
occasion that he visited and they found time together –
but I knew by looking at my wife, that it wasn’t the
same.
After my mother died, I allowed my wife to return to my
bedroom but I did not give up on the pretty young
things that seemed to flock to older men with money. In
the later years of my mother’s life, she and my wife
had become fast friends – and I suspected that they had
shared everything about their secret relationships with
the men in their lives.
I guessed that this helped my wife accept her new life
– so Japanese that it surprised even me.
