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Turning Japanese

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I was 18, almost out of high school and decided that I was missing something in my life. I felt as if there was more out there than I was experiencing and I wanted to find it. So after thinking it over I enrolled in the exchange program offered through my school. After careful consideration and deciding that the best way for me to get the most out of the experience was to not choose the obvious countries of choice by most students: France, Italy, Germany, Spain; but instead to get my grand life experience in the Orient, particularly Japan.

After a year of applications, interviews, scrutiny and orientations, I was off to a brand new world on the other side of the globe. For a small town Canadian boy, this was a huge endevour, but anything was better than the ‘everyone knows everything about everybody’ mentality that a town of 4500 people invariably offers in some respect or another. Therefore, in the summer of 1996, I was on a 14-hour plane ride to adventure and I wasn’t looking back.

After a long and relatively boring trip across North America and the Pacific Ocean, I landed in Fukuoka Airport in Japan and met what would be my first host family of the year, the Yamamotos. They seemed like very nice people, I particularly had an eye for their daughter Aya who was only a couple of months my younger, but stunning in the way that the Japanese have seemed to master in my eyes ever since. A sort of sultry, shy yet provocative look that I see so very rarely in other women. She stood about 5’5″, 100lbs wet, but fit rather than morbidly skinny; long, silky, jet black hair, flowing to just above the small of her back; the sweetest face, smooth and without imperfection as if had I not seen her move in some time I could easily mistake her for a porcelain doll. And the most piercing jade eyes. Oh, those eyes. They just had me from the first moment I got lost in them. They were enchanting, they were a trap, but I couldn’t escape, yet at the same point, why would I ever want to.

After a couple of minutes, I managed to peel my eyes off her and slowly, through the expected language barrier got to know the rest of the family. The patriarch of the family seemed like a very gentle, caring yet silently firm man. There was just something about him, there was nothing quite masculine about him, and yet despite the way he carried himself, I could feel a strength in him, even though it would take some time for me to peg it down right. I think he knew what happened under his roof during my 6-month stay with his family, and for several months after before I returned to Canada, but he never spoke of it, or took any action of any kind.

Aya had two brothers, Ryo and Yuu, the former a year older than I and a former exchange student himself in Brazil the previous year, the latter about my brother’s age, about 4 years my younger. Both became family over that year and I even had Yuu stay with me back in Canada for a month, a year after I returned.

Then there was Sakiko, my host mother. Looking at her was like seeing what Aya would look like when she eventually hit 40. Her looks had faded from her younger years, still had hair down to her waist, but it had lost quite a bit of its luster and was starting to sprout into a regal grey in areas, mostly kept up in a tight ponytail. She was taller than Aya, closer to my height, probably around 5’9″, which was above average for a Japanese woman, and still had a body, probably not as tight as it once was, but still great, and relatively fit. Had I not known her age I probably wouldn’t have pegged her any higher than her low to mid thirties. I don’t know if my attraction had begun with her that first night or if it came later; probably later seeing as I was mostly infatuated with her daughter at the time, and when my eye was focused on something, one would be hard pressed to remove it with anything less than a better distraction.

After about and hour and a half car ride we finally got to Saga City, where I would be living for the following year, and my new house. It wasn’t really a house per se as it was a business with a home attached to it. I found as I wandered the streets that this turned out to be the norm rather than the exception. I also found that when I walked into the front door, there were about fifteen Japanese people in the store section throwing a party in my honour, which involved a couple of friends of each of the family members, most of which I commonly referred to as the “Gaijin Gawkers” (Gaijin is Japanese for Foreigner) as they were just there for a look at the stereotypical North American Boy. I would later remove this title from a few of them, as I became excellent friends with some, and a lot more with others.

At the time I was just teasing 6′ tall, about 180lbs, dirty blond hair, slightly faded blue eyes and a medium build well kept from years of hockey in the winter and baseball in the summer. I wasn’t cut or anything like that, but well built for my size, with a decent set of love handles, I managed to build out of a couple of years of high school beer appreciation. I was fairly average all around, nothing special, but not a sideshow freak either.

Anyway, we all got to talking, I found that Ryo had a pretty decent command of the English language which I decided to use to my advantage, turning him into my translator to keep my dictionary from catching on fire from friction and slowly worked the room, getting to know everyone as best I could. Embarrassing as it is looking back, I actually taught them all the Macarena. What can I say, it was annoyingly popular in 1996 and I felt it was my duty to share my burden with the rest of the world. After an exhausting first day and enough jet lag to tranquilize an elephant, I excused myself to my new room and passed out.

Now for anyone looking for a quick shag and bag story, I think at this point you may have realized that this isn’t the one for you, scroll down a little farther for the abridged version.

I had stayed with the family for a couple of months and had watched as summer dragged into autumn, all the while getting closer and more enamored with the ladies of the Yamamoto household. There was just something about them, and I couldn’t help but pay attention. I had found out that Aya was a bit of a tease, which didn’t surprise me a bit, constantly coming home with boyfriend after boyfriend. It was if she ate them alive for a week and spit out the remains when feeding time came around. Her efficiency was absolutely astounding. And once school started I had the extra added bonus of seeing this amazing vixen in her uniform: a white, short-short sleeved, slightly transparent blouse, with a dark navy blue, fold over bow tie; a seriously short, blue and green tartan skirt, personally hemmed by her to be so, yet just long enough that if measured, still barely met school regulations; and a pair of white school-issue, knee-high socks that sprouted out of a pair of plain black dress shoes. As if this were not enough, she tied her exceptional hair in ponytails, both jutting just right out of the back of her head that just screamed super love handles; from the front, from behind, didn’t matter. It’s no wonder she had every boy in school wrapped around her finger. However, as time went on, I began to realize that the very thing about her that was so mesmerizing would probably be the very thing that would keep me from getting her into bed; so I slowly set my sights on my host mother, Sakiko, or Okaasan as I referred to her.

I began to notice early on how increasingly beautiful she was, just little things like the June Cleaver way that she took care of the house, not as much as being subservient while doing it, but that she always seemed dressed and composed to go out in her best clothes while she was cleaning or cooking or minding the store while my host father was out delivering or servicing electronics equipment, which is what the store dealt in. There were also the traditional national festivals when she went all out and put on her kimono. It was a pale, almost pastel pink colour, made from the softest silk, with a sakura tree dyed on the back, cherry blossom petals all over, hanging from the tree, floating about her kimono freely as if it commanded the wind at another level, so that when she walked it actually looked as though the blossoms were flowing around her body, independent of the garment. It made her look absolutely stunning, and I made sure to get good use of my camera on those occasions. She was my guide in Japan, whenever I wasn’t in school, or off exploring on my own I was with her. We were inseparable. We would watch movies together, go to bars together (blond hair, blue eyes… I was mistaken as a foreign English teacher more often than a student), would go to tea ceremonies together, and sit up all night learning Japanese and English from one another ever so slowly, but better than had I tried on my own. I credit my own knowledge of the Japanese language to her; I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her, certainly not as quickly or with such ease. Because of all of this, expectedly we started growing closer.

It was completely unnoticeable at first, when we would stay up and watch a movie, she would nuzzle into me, or when we were alone in the house and I would complain about some kind of ache or pain I had from my intensive daily exploring, she would give me a serious massage and make the pain go away, and from time to time I would return the favour. With as linked as we were at the hip, one would think that we would have seen it coming, but I’d have to say our union surprised us both.

One late autumn night we were both sitting on the living room couch watching some random movie on TV, I was settled back into the corner of the aging, faded leather, L-shaped lounger, and she was getting ever so comfortable in the nape of my neck like always, my arm draped over her shoulder to keep it from falling asleep. About halfway through the movie, she got a little uncomfortable and shifted her body, bringing her breast in contact with my hand, instantly shooting a spark through both of us. It was if time had stopped along with our breathing and those couple of seconds lingered on for eternity. Something felt wrong about it all, but something also felt very right, as if that small instance opened up an animal we had both been oppressing. Yet we just sat there, so still as if we had lost track of where we were, who we were, just staring blankly at a movie on the TV that seemed less and less apparent next to that light graze.

Suddenly, as if time began to catch up with reality, my hand started to gain feeling and mobility again. My heartbeat raced so hard, I thought it was going to burst, and yet it seemed in perfect time with hers as I began to lightly caress her left breast through the aqua coloured blouse she had on, just a light grazing of the fingertips at first, swaying back and forth just under her nipple, but not making contact as if I still wasn’t sure this was really happening, or if it was going to end, or how far I could really go. Ever so slowly I began to take bolder and bolder steps, using more of my fingers and covering more surface area, until I ‘accidentally’ found her nipple, already firm and erect from the intense teasing, and gave it a squeeze through the cloth which in turn made her gasp aloud; the first noise either of us had made since the initial contact; which led me to go even further still. I cupped her breast in my hand and began massaging it, which led to a more audible squeal to accompany yet another gasp. As I did this, she pounced. We heard the thunder, we settled into the long pause, but that last tiny, nearly inaudible squeal was the lightning. Okaasan turned to me sharply grabbed both sides of my head and kissed me long and hard, with a passion I have rarely felt since. She would tell me later it was if she had been penting up fifteen years of sexual repression, and I had let the flood waters out, and there was nothing left to control the flow but me.

After a moment, I took swift control of the situation and flipped our positions, leaving her vulnerable and panting underneath my now adrenaline-pumped body, I dove into her, wanting to take in all that I could and not leave a drop behind, we were both lost in a desert, we were both an oasis for one another, and I drank my fill as my lips reconnected with hers; the force and passion was so intense that we had absolutely no connection with our surroundings…no sounds, no sights, no smells, other than what we found in each other, the animal unleashed, there was no caging it back up…or so it seemed.

As my hand reached under her blouse to find the softness of her skin, she darted quickly up into a sitting position, nearly knocking me to the floor, collected herself, and kept saying over and over again “we shouldn’t be doing this” in Japanese, the words intermingled with her still quickened breath. I reached out, the animal still within me, and took her shoulder, flipping her around until our eyes connected again, and just as I thought I had her locked on our one sweaty purpose again, she jumped to her feet, saying “no, no, no, no…we shouldn’t be doing this”, with enough emotion in her voice for me to hear her concern, but still softly enough that she didn’t awake the rest of the family sleeping just overhead, and disappeared through the kitchen and up the stairs to bed.

It took nearly half an hour for me to compose myself, my heart rate eventually slowed as did my breathing, and I lulled the animal back into it’s cage and closed the door behind it. I think it was at that moment that I first said to myself, “Oh my God, what have I done?” I wasn’t a virgin at the time, but I had never gone after a married woman before, and on top of that I lived in her house, at the very least things would get very uncomfortable and at their worst I could get sent home in disgrace with only 3 months out of a year gone. I freaked out for a bit, letting my mind mull it over and over again and then when I finally exhausted myself thinking it over, I wandered upstairs and to bed.

The next morning, I got up for school and reluctantly put on my uniform and headed downstairs, apprehensive; terrified of what I might see or find when I rounded the bottom of the staircase. However, when I made it to the ground floor, I found nothing. No angry family, no one to send me home, nothing at all. The store appeared to be locked, Otoosan (host father) appeared to be out working, and the kids were probably already gone to school as I had slept in again. Therefore, I wandered into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before being fashionably late for class yet again, but when I turned the corner I found Okaasan, already dressed up and doing her daily routine, which included my lunch that was neatly packed in a 3-stage bento box on the counter. She saw me come in, handed me a glass of orange juice and my lunch, smiled at me just as she did on any other school morning and sent me on my way.

“Did last night really happen?” “Was it all just an intense dream, something I made up?” So many questions ran through my head over the course of the day, all of it compounded by the fact that she appeared to be no different from any other day, and stranger still with no one around to act for. I was so confused. I told her to have a nice day, and sped to school on my bike, my mind beating me there, it was running so fast, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. I drifted through my classes not able to keep my mind on anything other than the previous nights engagement, and finally when that bell went off I made my way back to the unknown.

When I got home everyone had already beaten me there, they were all sitting in the living room, conversing with one another, watching one of the many random Japanese game shows that was on the air at the time, and marveling over the stupidity of what was going on. I sat down with them and tried to enjoy myself, but as the time went by, I found that I had to force myself not to look at Okaasan; if she was going to act as if nothing went on, then I had to try to do the same. The night finished like any other, a couple hours went by and we all sat down for dinner; then the kids went off to study, Otoosan went to bed early as he always did and Okaasan was in the kitchen cleaning up and preparing tomorrow’s lunches as I sat in the adjacent living room glued to the boob-tube when all I wanted to do was turn around and say ‘what’s going on?’

Finally, she sat with me to watch a late night movie, probably out of habit rather than on purpose, as if nothing has happened and nuzzled up-close just as if she had always done my arm around her shoulders, draped over the left side. However, this time was different. After about ten minutes of the most comfortable, uncomfortable silence I’ve ever endured, she turned to me with the most gentle eyes and said, “Last night can’t happen again”, but there was something…when our eyes met they locked together and I lost myself within them again. She was saying no, but all I could see in her eyes was the big “but…” at the end of that sentence, the longing for more than what was, and without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. Not like before, but more gently, each motion and touch was a caress, I drank her in instead of devouring her and she fell limp and helpless in my arms, and gave in again as our tongues met and danced with one another inside the velvet embrace. As I used one arm to hold myself up so as not to fall off the couch, my other hand began to roam, first tracing the lines of her face, and then into the lines of her hair which was let down for a change; her neck, her nape, her sides, her back, her stomach…I wanted to explore every region of her body with the tips of my fingers, just lightly gliding over her surface, causing goose bumps to rise wherever I met bare skin. Finally, my hand came to her ample, heaving breast; and I began to massage it ever so lightly as I squeezed her already erect nipple between my fingers through the thin fabric that was once again separating me from final ecstasy.

However, just like the night before, this seemed to trigger something in her and I could feel her jump once again and I thought I knew what was coming, but I was pleasantly surprised. “Not here, too, open” she said in her still broken English. I nodded and got up, and pointed over our heads at the ceiling where my bedroom was located, she nodded back in acknowledgement and I went upstairs first. She wanted to wait a couple of minutes after just in case someone in the house had woken up by then.

I went upstairs and dressed down to my boxers, and waited for her arrival, almost to the point where I thought she was going to stop it again until I heard the door open behind me. Okaasan had changed into her bathrobe which was downstairs in the bathroom, and you could feel the nervousness within her as I could count the rhythm of her heart nearly by the sound of the pounding under her heaving chest…she was completely vulnerable now, about to do something that was both very wrong in her mind, but also something she needed so badly that reason had no place in it anymore. I took two steps forwards and slowly began to remove the robe, sliding it over her shoulders until she was bare to my eyes, finally. She wasn’t as perky as she obviously was in her youth, love handles had taken over at her sides, and her breasts, although not drooping, weren’t as they once were…but she was beautiful.

I took her by the hand and led her to my bed and with one arm cradling her back, slowly laid her down and covered her with my own warm skin to begin our dance again. I traced her entire body with my fingers this time, able to access everything, although unclothed she was quite shy and it took some coaxing for me to keep her from covering herself up. In her mind, she still could not believe that I could find her that attractive. My lips joined in the exploration, first kissing her forehead and her cheek, and then down her neck and shoulders making sure to get everything, as she kept running her hands through my hair, massaging my scalp. I took one breast into my hand and then brought my mouth down just above the nipple, first blowing on it lightly, teasing it, finding how sensitive she was and where.

Then I dropped a little lower, flicking it with my tongue sending shivers through as her chest. She jumped at the action and rose into my mouth. Taking the cue, I dove into it, and the tempo of things rose back to the animalistic desires from the night before. Those same hands that were running through my hair just moments before were now dug into my scalp pulling me into her breast, suffocating me with it, wanting more. The light gasps that were coming from her lips were now becoming lustful pants. I finally removed myself from her breast and traced my way quickly down her stomach with my tongue, just stopping above her now soaking wet pussy to look up and grin before I continued. But I didn’t dive right in, instead I felt like teasing her some more. I followed the length of her thigh with a light breeze from my pursed lips causing her to buck lightly, her hand in her mouth to muffle what was now becoming a more audible moan. I devoured her inner thighs kissing every last inch, as close as I could get to her sex without actually touching it. But it seemed she could take no more and grabbed the back of my head with her free hand and pulled me in, at first missing the mark as I entered her with my nose, but I managed to pull back just enough to find my angle. My tongue tasted her labia with unbridled ferocity, I was determined to find and torture every last pleasure sensor left on her body, as her bucking increased and she bit even harder into her hand to muffle a scream which would have waken the whole house. As I continued my barrage, I decided to go for the prize and pulled her clit into my mouth sucking on it hard, flicking it so hard with my tongue that I was actually giving myself a muscle cramp, all the while she was still bucking into me, her nails piercing my scalp as she dug in deeper, the muffled moans through her hand getting louder and louder and louder and….

She pulled me up and took control. Turning me over onto my back, she went down and nearly ripped my boxers from my body, and lowered herself onto my manhood before I had a chance to react. She was so tight. I had been with a virgin before, but this was something amazingly different, as she rose and fell on my blood-gorged penis, it felt like I was on drugs, she was so tight it was euphoric, but unlike a virgin she was also experienced which made it so much better. She had control of muscles within her that I didn’t even know existed at that point. I was reeling in the experience but I wanted control again and flipped her back onto her back, in the process pulling out. I held myself up there for a moment, and looked deep within her eyes again, my body heaving and shaking from the sheer power of the moment, drenched in sweat, wanting to capture the moment. She looked back into my eyes and spoke just one word in Japanese:


Feeling the desperate longing once again in her voice I lowered myself back down on her and entered her nice and slow, allowing her to experience each and every inch until I was up to the hilt. And just as slowly I pulled it back, nearly out, to the head and in piston-like fashion kept doing this, picking up speed with each successive thrust, feeding her more and more of myself, leaning into her, taking her mouth to mine and resumed the attack, ravaging what should never have been mine and loving every second of it as I went in and out, in and out, In and Out. Her moans began to increase in volume and intensity with each stroke, and soon it would wake the neighbours yet alone the rest of the house. I hadn’t thought about it in the heat of passion, but I was holding both of her hands over her head and as such she had nothing to bite into, so finally when she couldn’t take it anymore she bit into my shoulder as I continued to pound her, getting ever closer to that final climax. I couldn’t feel that pain of her teeth, only how good I felt at that moment. I let go of her arms, and used one arm to hold myself up while I slid the other under the arch of her back, pulling her up slightly as I continued to thrust harder and faster still, and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, my body let go, filling her womb with my love juices and collapsed in complete exhaustion by her side.

With both of us and the sheets completely soaked, I smiled at her and kissed her forehead gently. We laid there for a couple of minutes basking in what had just happened, what we had just done, lost in our stolen moment. However, she had no choice but to go; it was getting really late and she needed to crawl into bed with her husband just a couple of meters away, to make sure we didn’t get caught. I remained awake for another hour or so after she left, allowing myself to take in what just happened and settle a bit, and then I finally passed out for the night.

The next morning, I actually got up on time for school, had a shower and ran downstairs with a huge smile on my face. Most of the family was getting ready to leave and even Otoosan was still there because he had no deliveries that day. Okaasan was finishing the bento boxes for everyone like usual. When it came to mine, I walked over to her, said good morning, and flashed a little grin. As I looked down at my lunch, I saw large bandage covering her left hand.

She told everyone that she had slipped with the knife when she was preparing the morning breakfast. No one questioned her about it, why would they? But I knew how she injured her hand.

She grinned back as if to say, “We’ll do it again sometime.”

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