Cherry Blossoms Ch. 02
In the next few days, there was an abundance of sucking and fucking. I found the taste of Kameko's nipples to be divine, while her pussy was utterly delightful. She couldn't get enough of my dick and frequently went down on me whenever we were alone. Additionally, we ventured beyond our bodies, exploring various sights and sounds of Tokyo. It was a fantastic time, and I felt like a new man.
In the quiet moments, cuddled up in her minimalist apartment, we made love excessively, until we both grew too tired and fell asleep beside each other, discussing the past and future. Her world, filled with adorable clothing and J-Pop, was a completely different universe from my South African upbringing of sports and politics, but there was something about it that easily resonated with us. I quickly forgot the loneliness and misery I had felt just days before.
As the days turned into weeks, a deep appreciation filled my heart. I couldn't believe how close I had come to abandoning my journey. It appeared the universe had a plan for me all along; this plan, fortunately, included a lot of hot sex with a lovely young girl I was starting to develop genuine emotions for.
However, my newly acquired happiness came crashing down on me one morning as winter's first snow clouds gathered in the sky. I finished a freezing journey to the language school, only to discover Ms. Watanabe in a similarly cold mood. I could sense something was wrong.
"Letting go...contract ending...budget cuts..." she said as I entered the staff room.
My stomach churned. Fired? Just a few weeks after I started? Perhaps it had nothing to do with my recent performances and everything with enrollment numbers. My lessons weren't bad. They might've been a tad unorganized since I became infatuated with Kameko, but they weren't awful. Maybe it was just the economy.
This was a major setback. Tokyo was expensive, and my savings were almost depleted due to my attempts to spoil Kameko with shopping excursions and fancy dinners. Terror replaced the joy I had recently experienced. How could I support her relationship without an income?
I left the school, disheartened, and saw that indeed it had started to snow.
"Sensei Max?"
Someone was calling me. I turned around and saw that Mr. Hashira was approaching, wrapped up in his coat, and digging his hands into his pockets. Confused, I stopped to listen.
Mr. Hashira had eavesdropped on Ms. Watanabe, who was planning to let me go. He said his wife wished to enhance her English ability and had been considering obtaining private lessons. If I impressed her, he suggested, the job could be mine.
I experienced a strange combination of curiosity and relief. Why would Mr. Hashira, a man who had shown no interest in my classes, now suggest I teach his wife?
"I would be honored to meet your wife," I replied.
I pushed the confusion from my mind and we parted ways, exchanging bows.
I visited the Hashiras the next day, wondering what awaited me. The area in which they resided was quite affluent. Low shrubs in pot plants guarded the entrances to tall, well-maintained buildings, giving the impression of dignified wealth.
Climbing the stairs of a small, new building down a quiet side street, I took a deep breath and cracked my knuckles, feeling anxious and nervous. This could be my best opportunity to obtain a job and stay in Tokyo with Kameko. A vision of her perfect ass, bent over in the shower, and the high-pitched sound of her voice, pleading for me to continue fucking her, flashed across my mind as I knocked on the Hashiras' front door.
A minute later, I was greeted by a stunning woman posing elegantly in the doorway. The woman, likely in her mid to late thirties, smiled at me and welcomed me inside.
"Hello," I muttered, managing a weak smile. "Is Mr. Hashira here?"
"Ah, Max-sensei!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and welcoming, contrasting her poised beauty. "Mr. Hashira is still at work, but I've been anticipating your arrival. Please, come in."
Bowing slightly, she gracefully removed her own footwear and invited me to do the same. I obliged, placing my boots beside her delicate silk slippers.
"Welcome to our humble abode," said Mrs. Hashira.
The apartment, like the neighborhood it was situated in, radiated quiet affluence. A modest amount of expensive furniture blended beautifully with large windows filled with natural sunlight and high ceilings and wooden floors, creating a stylish and soothing environment.
"Thanks," I responded. "That sounds great."
The sound of the water boiling eased my nerves, and shortly after, the trophy wife entered with a steaming cup of fragrant tea in her immaculate porcelain hands.
"Here you go."
"Arigatou."
I was about to take a sip, but realized the tea would still be too hot. Then, I almost dropped the cup when Mrs. Hashira perched her stunning ass right beside me on the couch. Japanese individuals are usually more reserved around strangers, but Mr. Hashira's lonely wife appeared quite content sitting next to a stranger. I used the opportunity to examine her strikingly beautiful features.
Mrs. H's beauty was undisputable, but beneath her innocent gaze, an underlying sharpness emerged. It was as if she was analyzing me in great detail, each aspect of my appearance. This was somewhat unnerving. She was assessing me just as I was evaluating her, causing a tingling sensation to run through me.
The age difference between her and Mr. Hashira was significant. She had the appearance of the old man's daughter. She was a beautiful woman in her fertile prime, full-figured but slender, exquisitely dressed in a chic designer outfit that highlighted her wealth and desire.
Mrs. Hashira's gaze remained fixed on me as the sharpness deepened, revealing a hint of either amusement or, perhaps, desire. I couldn't discern which. Without warning, she made a startling request.
"Could you stand up for a moment?" she asked.
I complied, and immediately, she began caressing my back and shoulders, sliding her delicate fingers along my abdomen and down each of my arms. I was initially taken aback, but the pleasurable feeling that came over me transformed into actual excitement as her exploration continued on my rugby-trained biceps.
"What are you doing?"
She chuckled, her voice velvety smooth and causing me to throb. "I apologize," she said, gesturing for me to sit back down. "But my husband might have neglected to mention some details."
I nodded, still uncertain.
"You see, Max," she began, "I'm already well-versed in English."
I felt my penis growing hard in my insufficient trousers when she continued.
"Mr. Hashira, bless him, is not at all adept at...gardening." She emphasized the word, indicating a deeper meaning. "He's never been able to cultivate anything," she elaborated, grabbing her midsection and looking at me meaningfully. The beautiful woman's eyes gleamed mischievously. "He mentioned your lessons," she went on, "and..." she trailed off.
"And?"
"And I had a different idea."
Mrs. Hashira made a rather surprising offer involving numerous metaphors for impregnation. Any suspicions I might've had regarding her intentions evaporated when she admitted her admiration for the size of my erection.
I had never been this aroused in my entire life. A beautiful married woman was appraising the size of my cock and had invited me to father her child. On top of that, she promised me a generous reward package, a considerable sum in yen, a reward I would have accepted no matter the circumstances, but especially for the sexual overtures Mrs. Hashira was making.
"How many 'seeds' do you want me to plant in your 'garden'?" I asked, meeting her smoldering eyes.
Mrs. Hashira mentioned that she wanted me to implant as many 'seeds' in her as possible.
The following day, I relocated with the Hashiras, and the discomfort went out the window as soon as dinner was served. Mr. Hashira purposely kept his distance when we ate, opting to view television in the living room. After that, he retired for the evening without a word. However, our meal together was delightful and Mrs. Hashira was attentive to my every request.
"You need proper nutrition," she explained, as if it was all part of our agreement, but a part of me pondered if her suppressed maternal instincts were beginning to emerge. I inquired about Mr. Hashira's intentions, and she swiftly dismissed my concerns.
"Forget about him," she counseled.
"Why's that?"
"Perhaps this wasn't the most conventional solution, yet..."
"But you were lonely."
She responded with a wistful smile. "Perhaps."
As we sat there in silence, an unusual bond formed between us. We were both unemployed, drifting around the city, trying to find connections in unusual places. While I now had Kameko, I couldn't help but feel drawn to Mrs Hashira. But on the other hand, money was a necessity. I couldn't ruin what I had with Kameko, but at the same time, Mrs Hashira was incredibly attractive and enticing.
"I accept your job offer," I said. "You're beautiful, and I'm sure you'd be an excellent mother. I'm just not entirely comfortable with this situation."
I didn't know why I was being so hesitant now. Was I intimidated by Mrs Hashira or did I feel guilty about Kameko? It was hard to tell. However, my desire for Mrs Hashira was growing stronger each second. She was the embodiment of domestic bliss, and seeing her move gracefully about the kitchen only heightened my seduction.
She continued cleaning the dishes, giving me a chance to enjoy her flawless body as she leaned provocatively over the sink, her ass jutting out and her spine arching slightly more than necessary. When she finally turned to face me, she calmly mentioned that people would be suspicious if I left so late. She recommended staying the night and making a decision the next morning. Although I was still unsure, spending the night at Mrs Hashira's held an undeniable logic. It would be freezing cold and treacherous walking back to my apartment in the wee hours of the night.
"Okay, I'll stay," I agreed. "We can discuss this more in the morning."
The guest bedroom was very comfortable, but I couldn't sleep. My mind was preoccupied with the idea of having sex with her. Whenever I pushed away the thought of Mrs Hashira straddling me, the image of Kameko frowning with suspicion popped into my head.
Morning arrived, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange. I got out of bed, feeling groggy after a sleepless night. As I emerged from the guest room, I found Mrs Hashira in the kitchen. Her eyes shone with hopefulness as she urged me to eat breakfast. Mr Hashira had already left for work, she said, and she had prepared a delicious Western-style meal of bacon and eggs.
I was starving and didn't hesitate to dig in. As I ate, all my concerns from the previous night dissipated under the morning light. Watching Mrs Hashira bustle about the kitchen in her loose-fitting kimono helped make up my mind. I would indeed take her up on her tantalizing offer.
"Mrs Hashira," I began, "concerning our conversation last night..."
Mrs Hashira shook her head, her long black hair fluttering across her face.
"Please, don't worry about it. Today is for preparing, getting used to each other."
I stayed with the Hashiras for a month, sowing my seed in Mrs Hashira's 'garden' whenever Mr Hashira was at work. The first few days, Mrs Hashira walked around the house naked. She invited me to shower with her and massage her, and I enjoyed these intimate moments. And although she wouldn't let me have sex with her until I was aching with anticipation, she made up for it in sheer dynamism.
The first time we made love replayed itself vividly in my mind like it happened just moments ago. Mr Hashira had just left for work when she removed all her clothes and stood in the living room. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Despite having soaped up and kissed each other, it felt like we were about to engage in a whole new level of intimacy.
"It's time for planting," she whispered.
I dropped my clothes in a heartbeat, racing across the room towards her. The warmth of the room made being naked seem natural, despite the freezing snow outside. Wrapping my arms around her, we kissed passionately. I couldn't get enough of how her breasts felt crushed against my chest, and how my cock rubbed against her stomach. Mrs Hashira took her time, kissing me deeply, and sucking my tongue, until my erection sought attention. *explicit content excluded*
Bending to her knees, Mrs. Hashira slowly engulfed my engorged member into her mouth. Her actions were professional, almost as though she were immune to the pleasure she was experiencing, although her eyes remained closed and she continued sucking for a few extra minutes. I yearned to release my seed within her mouth, but I knew my hostess was a master of temptation, determined to save all my sexual energies for impregnating her.
Once satisfied by the length of my erection, and realizing my member was fully coated with her saliva, she gently stroked my cock for an additional minute before lying down on the carpet of the living room. I took her cue and got into position over her delicate bosom, admiring her beauty as I lowered myself over her and positioned my penis next to her wet, waiting slit.
"Are you absolutely certain about this?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "You must impregnate me."
Her youth shone through her face, glowing with her reproductive readiness, and I could see her eagerness and longing through her eyes as she looked forward to having children. It was clear that living with Mr. Hashira was a secure yet solitary life; I pictured that a caring, maternal individual like Mrs. Hashira endured such lonely living conditions.
Without further hesitation, I submitted myself to her and sank my cock into her tight, accepting core. As she gasped in shock and surprise, I realized her passage was tighter than anything she had previously experienced, and it was uncertain if she and Mr. Hashira still engaged in such activities. Her eyes grew wide in astonishment, and she tightly gripped my arms as I pushed my entire form into her.
Being gentle was a challenge despite the prolonged teasing, but Mrs. Hashira requested I simply enjoy myself. I adhered to her request, increasing my pace and force. As her juices made my path smoother, deep, soft moans left her lips each time my cockhead touched the ends of her petite vagina.
I continued pumping furiously, lengthening each stroke as time progressed. She encouraged me, urging me to lose my inhibitions. She hesitated in allowing me to kiss her, possibly feeling embarrassed by our situation. This angered me, so I pressed my member harder, thrusting as far and deeply into her as my cock would allow. Each loud scream of pleasure escaped her lips, climaxing with a final, powerful orgasm.
Frustrated by our lengthy buildup, I released a torrent of sperm into the depths of her needy vagina. Mrs. Hashira had already experienced multiple climaxes, but as she felt the seed I longed to give her, she opened her legs and embraced me passionately as she discovered the seed she coveted in her depths.
After watching the blissful expression she wore immediately after our tryst, it was a moment I would never forget. With my affection for her growing beyond an attraction, I wanted more than just a transaction - I sought to make her pregnant. The thought of pleasing her and fulfilling her desires in the process ignited a new sense of love within me.
Once her pleasure subsided, Mrs. Hashira returned to her knees and cleaned my member with her mouth, restoring my erection within a few minutes. We returned to the sofa, where Iimpaled her from behind, pounding into her with fierce, unforgiving strokes, repaying her for days of titillation in a single, explosive moment.
As I fucked Mrs. Hashira vehemently, I felt my resentment and frustration culminate in the force with which I thrust, finally allowing myself to release and spread my seed to its peak inside her. She continued bleating in ecstasy and after receiving my second load, begged for me to clean myself off by filling her with even more cum.
In spite of my intense efforts, I pumped my third and final load into her wanton snatch. Mrs. Hashira again cried tears of happiness while experiencing a powerful orgasm, thankful that she had received the seed she desired. We returned to her bed, where I could explore her tight, wetted opening even further and leave my essence deep within her. Her tears were filled with joy, and witnessing her pleasure was rewarding, reaching a peak in which she spasmed and climaxed utterly.
While screwing Mrs. Hashira, I glanced at the nightstand and spotted a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Hashira's wedding day. The photo displayed Mr. Hashira with his typical bland expression, while Mrs. Hashira was still beautiful and radiating. She may have lost her youthfulness, but she gained an alluring motherly attractiveness that I admired. The image of the innocent young woman in the picture and the horny woman in my grasp was a stark contrast. The sight of her tears and her bouncing breasts made my penis even harder. As her eyes connected with mine, she showed appreciation in her gaze. I slowed down a bit, then carefully penetrated her with just love until we experienced our first orgasm together.
Our daily routine consisted of Mr. Hashira's departure for work. We would disrobe and have sex in every area of the house, from the shower and bathtub to the bedroom floors, the toilet, and the kitchen. At first, we were cautious and confined our activities to daylight hours while it snowed outside. Later, we became indifferent and conducted these activities whenever we felt the urge.
When Mr. Hashira returned from work, he would remain silent and sit in another room while Mrs. Hashira and I "gardened." Mrs. Hashira was thrilled with my performance, repeatedly shouting "yes" and "that's it!" as I did something right. She openly boasted about the number of seeds I planted within her. While serving meals to her husband, Mrs. Hashira would mention how she patiently anticipated the seed I planted growing so she could give birth to the child he desired. The young bride seemed to enjoy cheating on her husband. It seemed as if she was avenging him for his inability to have children or satisfy her sexually. I wondered if Mr. Hashira was envious, but he appeared content just watching us together.
"Hai! Yatta!" Mrs. Hashira would yell in childish excitement whenever I created a powerful orgasm, a stark contrast to her husband's silence.
"I adore foreign dick!" she'd proclaim, riding me on the coach while her husband watched television in the armchair. I had adopted the routine of eating her out on the living room floor before ravishing her mercilessly. She ceased paying attention to her husband's presence and even brushed me off when there was a chance of my climaxing with the intention of climaxing inside her.
Mrs. Hashira's feedback made me feel cozy, and the idea of delivering my "semen" into Mrs. Hashira's womb filled me with a sense of achievement I hadn't felt since arriving in Japan.
After devouring a midday meal on a snowy afternoon, Mrs. Hashira leaned in with a secretive whisper. "Imagine, Max," she whispered, even though we were the only ones in the house. "All the stunning flowers you planted inside me."
I made love to Mrs. Hashira over the kitchen sink while she was performing her chores after dinner that evening. Mr. Hashira's quiet presence in the adjoining room only heightened my pleasure. The notion of inseminating another man's wife brought me immense joy, and it appeared Mrs. Hashira shared my obsession. Kameko started to notice my unusually positive mood. However, I began to think about making Mrs. Hashira pregnant, relishing the belief that her desire for a child would become our shared goal. Kameko usually permitted me to visit her in her apartment, but Mr. Hashira was well aware of the truth and might have appreciated hearing his wife being impregnated by another man.
It occurred to me that there may have been a deeper connection between Mrs. Hashira and me beyond our financial agreement. When Mrs. Hashira revealed her pregnancy one winter morning after seeing the doctor, she exhibited distance towards me.
"Really? So we've come to an end here?" I questioned, cautiously hoping she would change her mind.
She asked me to comprehend the delicacy of the circumstance. Mrs. Hashira's spouse had accepted her longing for a baby carried by another man, but now that she was pregnant, it was time for me to depart, she clarified. I acknowledged her viewpoint.
"So you're genuinely pregnant?"
"Yes, Max. I am with child with your seed. You will leave first thing in the morning."
Despite seeming detached, Mrs Hashira appeared sad while bidding farewell the next morning as I gathered my belongings. Her left hand, adorned with a large diamond engagement ring, remained on my chest during our goodbyes, preventing me from getting too close but still touching my heart.
"It's just business," I stated frankly.
She agreed, "Delicate situation." She added, "My husband has been through a lot."
I responded that I comprehended and wished them well in their new family. Mrs Hashira gave me a tight hug before leaving the room. Upon her return, she had prepared some meals for me. I was grateful for this kind act. She was truly a considerate individual who would make a great mother.
I took my bag to the door, and she handed me her friend's business card. It seemed my friend had potential job opportunities for me. This was yet another kind gesture and an unsettling reminder that once again, I was without a job.
Read also:
- Senior Year at Sommerville High Ch. 10
- Sylvan Courtyard 6: Career Assist
- No desire to debate
- Live without regrets Pt. 03
Source: www.nice-escort.de
