Chapter 7

Suki had finally taken Fumiko to bed, lying with her until the now-exhausted woman fell asleep, and then dozing off there, herself. Bob explained everything to Tim when he got home. The next day started Tim’s two days off. He knew that Suki liked for him to wake her up when he got home, both to tell him the news of the “day” and to make love. He didn’t mind sleeping alone for one night, but couldn’t imagine what things would be like the next day. He hoped Fumiko didn’t go somewhere else. He liked her.

Emma and Bob were up at nine, when Suki shuffled into the kitchen, wearing her robe and fluffy bunny slippers.

“She’s awake, but too embarrassed to come out,” she sighed. “We’ve been talking, but I can’t convince her she shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Daddy told me what happened,” said Emma. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I slept like a log,” said Emma.

“I mean how are you with the fact that my mother got horny for your father last night?”

“I get that completely,” said Emma. “He makes me horny all the time.”

“I’m not sure I get that,” said Bob.

“Oh come on, Daddy,” groaned Emma.

“No, not you. I understand that perfectly. I just don’t get how seeing me boffing Suki could make her feel ... anything but upset.”

“I don’t know if I can explain it or not,” said Suki, “but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” said Bob.

“I learned many things last night,” said Suki. “I did not know, for example, that when I was six, to seal a business deal, my father gave my mother to a man for a night.”

“No way!” gasped Emma.

“That happened one other time, too. My father was angry with her and gave her to his business partner as punisment. He told her what to do and she did it. In her whole life, sex was about what the man wanted. She did whatever she was told and tried to find some pleasure in it if she could. Basically, after she left school, she never had any kind of relationship with a man she really respected. Then she came here and met Bob and Tim, who she feels are amazing men. When she saw me in a dominant position over a man, obviously enjoying it, the realization of everything that could have been, but never was, overwhelmed her. She wished she could do that, and the only man she knows, who she could imagine doing that with, is Bob. She says Tim is just a boy.” Suki grinned.

“Wow,” said Emma.

“She feels so ashamed, though, because she feels like she is dishonoring everybody else by having those thoughts.”

“Man,” sighed Bob. “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” said Suki, frowning.

It was silent for a while, as people thought.

“I have an idea,” said Emma, suddenly.

Both of the others in the room stared at her, waiting.

When she told them, Suki smiled. Bob looked mildly horrified.

In the end, he was outvoted.

“It’s just like at home,” said Suki. “You will serve Bob like I did for Emma and Tim when I got here. In this family this is completely normal.”

“This will not help with my feelings,” complained Fumiko.

“Mamma, there is nothing wrong with your feelings. You are the only one who is upset by them. We thought that, if you served him, you will feel more normal about things.”

“Do I have to?” moaned Fumiko.

“Of course not, Mamma. That’s the whole point. This has to be your decision, to serve him as you might serve someone in Japan.”

“This is not Japan,” said Fumiko.

“No, it is not, and that is also a point in this. This is our family. Before you got here it was made up of Tim, Emma, Bob, and me. Now you are part of it. You are free to make your own decisions, just like all the rest of us.”

“But you want me to do this?” said Fumiko.

“I want you to be happy, Mamma.”

“How does Emma feel about this?”

Suki stood up and left the bedroom she had been talking to her mother in. When she returned, Emma was with her. The young woman was smiling and sat next to Fumiko on the bed. She hugged the woman she thought of as her mother-in-law.

“I love you,” she said. “I’m sad that bad things happened to you that caused you to be here, but I’m glad you are here.”

“This is a very strange family,” sighed Fumiko.

“Do you want to leave?” asked her daughter.

Fumiko sat. She looked at Suki, and then at Emma. Both women’s faces were calm.

“No,” she finally said.

Smiles bloomed on the girls’ faces.

“Then go and do your duty,” said Suki, her voice falsely stern.

Bob was uncomfortable. He had been outvoted, but then Suki had asked him to let her mother do this. She had said it would help her mother feel more normal ... that her mother’s past included this kind of thing. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Suki had “served him” in the shower before, but they had already developed some intimacy in their relationship by that time. And he was pretty sure that being served in the bath by a woman in Japan didn’t always involve having sex. Suki had been a little vague on that part, in the past.

At the same time, the male in him wanted this to happen. He had spent hours talking with Fumiko, but it had always been on a purely platonic level. He had appreciated her delicate beauty, but his intent, on a cerebral level, had only been to help her. First, he helped her practice her English. Later, he helped her recover from her injuries, and found her legal assistance. He had tried to be supportive in any way he could. The male in him, though, had always been interested in more.

He stood a little stiffly as the woman removed his clothing, piece by piece. She had come to the master bath in her robe. When she dropped it, she was naked. Her face was a mask, her features unmarred by any hint of emotion.

“You have been very good to me,” she said, softly, as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and pulled it free of his hands. She folded it neatly and set it aside.

“No problem,” said Bob, automatically.

“I should not feel the way I do about you,” she said, reaching to unbuckle his belt.

“I probably shouldn’t feel the way I do about you, either,” he said.

“And how is that?”

“You’re about to find out,” said Bob.

Fumiko wasn’t shocked to find that Bob was erect when she lowered his pants. Every man she’d been with, naked, had been erect. What shocked her was the size and shape of his tool. Hiroto and the others had been so similar as to have come from the same mold. Each had been brown, about four inches long, and a little larger in diameter than a man’s thumb. This one, however, was very pink looking. The tip looked the same, with its wrinkled hood, and little eye peeking out, but it had to be six inches long, if not a little more, and was twice as large around as any she’d seen before.

She stared at it, fascinated.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Bob. He bit his lip. Suki had told him specifically not to say that.

“So my daughter tells me.”

She looked up at his face. Somehow, as surprising as it was to her, her fear and timidity had vanished. This man had not grabbed her, pushed her down, and mounted her. Any other man she’d been with would have done that by now. Bob obviously wanted her as a woman, but he was ... respecting her.

It took a few moments to get his pants off his feet. Suki had said it was necessary that Fumiko take his clothes off, rather than him already being naked. The shower was already running. Fumiko couldn’t get used to the almost decadent usage of water in America. All that wasted water, going down the drain, being used for nothing. She stopped thinking about that, though, and concentrated on what she was there to do.

“Please?” she prompted, gesturing to the shower door. She bowed.

Bob opened it and stepped in.

Fumiko followed.

It was all going wrong, in Fumiko’s mind.

She was supposed to be serving Bob. Her daughter had been correct, in the sense that, as she prepared to do this, she felt like she knew what to expect. She had done something like this many times before. She had started out well, washing him, sliding her hands all over his wet, slippery body. The small sounds he had made gave her a guilty kind of pleasure. She wasn’t supposed to be getting pleasure. She was supposed to be giving it.

But then the tables had turned and Bob began to serve her! His soapy hands had explored what felt like every inch of her body. Well... almost every inch. He had not lifted her feet to stroke the bottoms of them, like she had done for him.

And he had not touched her sexual portal.

His hands, sliding across her small, still-firm breasts, had brought sounds from her own throat. Hiroto had ignored her breasts, particularly when they were feeding Suki. They had been small, conical mounds with muddy tips when she first married, and then gently rounded ones with firmly defined, almost black nipples after she weaned her daughter. Bob’s fingers, stroking over those nipples, caused her passion to flare.

He reached up to turn the shower head aside, so that the water was no longer beating directly on them, and then turned her to face him. She looked up into his face, the face of a nice man, a gentle man.

“You corrupted my daughter,” she said. It came out without prior thought to say it.

“I did,” he admitted. “Well, my daughter did. But I confess I didn’t resist. I tried to, at first ... but I was weak.”

“Now you desire to corrupt me?”

“No,” he said.

She pushed her hips against him, and felt the erection she had explored for so long press against her diaphragm. The message was obvious to Bob.

“I should not want that,” he amended. “I don’t want you to feel corrupted. I understand if your marriage vows make this uncomfortable for you.”

“In my mind the divorce is already complete,” said Fumiko.

“Still, I don’t wish to corrupt you.”

“My daughter does not feel corrupted,” said Fumiko. “My daughter is happy. I am very pleased with my daughter’s situation.”

“I’m glad about that,” said Bob.

Bob’s assumptions about bathing in Japan, based on Suki’s vague description of it, were correct. Bathing in Japan was usually a fairly quick, efficient process. The soaking afterwards could last a while, and there might be some hanky panky during that phase, but there wasn’t usually a lot of foreplay while the body was being cleaned.

In this case, though, since Fumiko was no longer in her home culture, and things were already very different than they’d been in her life before, she went about things a little differently.

She squatted, her face coming even with the erection that was so obvious, but which he wasn’t impatient about. Her hand moved to let her see what she had already felt. She felt an uncharacteristic eagerness to explore this one. She’d never been eager to deal with one before. She had expected a white man’s tool to be different, and was both happy and a little apprehensive that this one was both longer and larger in diameter than the others. Water dripped from it. There was ample room for her small hand to grip it and move several inches. An ache in her loins anticipated feeling this longer, fatter thing stretching her. Somehow, she knew that would happen. She hadn’t known that before she got in the shower ... but now she did.

That ache encouraged her to do something else she’d engaged in before. The difference was that, as she moved her mouth to envelope his rigid member ... she actually wanted to do it.

He groaned, like the others had groaned, but his hands merely rested on her wet hair, rather than gripping it and forcing her to continue. He didn’t fuck her face with his prong. He simply enjoyed what she was offering.

She stopped for two reasons. One was to see what his reaction would be. She hoped he would not become angry, or slap her and demand she continue. The other reason was that ... if he didn’t do any of those things ... she wanted this thing to remain firm. When his hands continued to stroke her wet hair, she slowly stood. This time she had no problem meeting his gaze.

“There is one place you have not cleaned me,” said Fumiko. She could not help but lower her eyes.

“If we keep going, I’m going to want to ... keep going,” he said.

She was able to look at his face again.

“I know this,” she said.

It was incredible, beyond her wildest fantasies. She had been completely unprepared for the situation she found herself in. Had she dreamed of having a wonderful lover, her most passionate fantasy would have been dull by comparison. Fumiko felt like she should be able to see her ancestors, because she had surely passed into heaven.

She had tried, through duty, to take him while they were still in the shower. That hadn’t worked well. He had only been able to penetrate her an inch or so. She was too short and he was too tall. All it did was inform her that, when the time came, she would be able to take his larger instrument without pain.

She became impatient as he dried her, serving her even more, but followed docilely when he led her to his bed. She didn’t have any idea what to expect.

What she did not expect was that he made her crazy before ever penetrating her with his penis. She wasn’t used to long, passionate kisses. She’d gotten some foretaste of that in the shower, but now, as his hands continued to stroke her body, his lips seemed to suck the energy out of her. She did not expect for her nipples to supply so much pleasure, or to crave the kisses he gave them. She certainly didn’t expect his lips to drift lower, kissing her everywhere, until he applied gentle pressure to spread her legs.

Then he ... kissed her ... there.

Before this, she’d had no idea what a man felt as she sucked his penis. All she had known was that they liked it, seemed to crave it. Men were odd creatures, in that they seemed to want to spurt in her mouth, but were always unhappy after that because they got soft and could not fuck her. They always wanted to fuck her, and that meant it was her job to get them hard again.

Granted, she only had experience with three men, Hiroto, Akio Hamada, his business partner, and the man he had awarded her to for business reasons. But they had all been the same, for the most part. It had been those experiences, in fact, that had made Fumiko ironically accepting of her lot in life. The other two men hadn’t beaten her, but it was clear that all men were basically the same. Before that she might have dreamed she could have had a better life, with a different husband. After being treated basically the same by three men, she assumed that was just the way men were.

Bob made it clear she had been wrong. Men weren’t the same at all. Or maybe it was just that Japanese men were all the same. Or maybe it was that men with tastes like those of Bob were different.

She couldn’t continue thinking about this as his tongue probed where only a penis had gone before. His fingers had found and teased her bump already, something else he did differently than the others. His touch was gentle, teasing, rather than rough and demanding. It was his finger, teasing her in the shower, that convinced her to find out what else about this could be different.