There once was a Duchess of Beever

Who slept with her golden retriever.

Said the potted old Duke :

"Such tricks make me puke!

Were it not for her money, I'd leave her."

I have been asked by friends on line to put down my story so that anyone can read it.

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 parents 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 mothers legs were bare of her normal nylons. Since that day I had caught her in her underwear and only reinforced by witnessing her nudity, mothers 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 husbands 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 child. 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 but 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.