Chapter 9

Fumiko knew she was lost. Bob had taken her to her own bedroom and lay down with her, fully clothed, on the bed. He had started kissing her. At first they were short, sweet kisses. Then they got longer and longer until she lost her breath. His lips found her neck, and her ear lobe. His hands wandered all over her body. In what seemed like no time at all, she was writhing, full of unsatisfied passion.

Their clothes seemed to come off like magic, except she could remember impatiently removing every item, once he got it loose.

And then they were naked and she knew she would let him do whatever he wished with her.

Then he stopped, and got off the bed.

“No!” she moaned.

“I just need to get something,” he said.

He picked up his pants and reached into a pocket, removing a square, shiny packet.

“Condom,” he said, grinning. “I’ve been carrying one around with me ever since that night.”

Her ardor cooled a little as she watched him extract a milky-white circle. She expected him to hand it to her, to install on him. The two men Hiroto had given her to had required her to do that. Bob did it himself, though. It made his penis look more white than pink.

She was ambivalent about the condom. She knew what a penis, sheathed in a condom, felt like inside her. She also knew what Bob’s naked spike felt like inside her. Even with her relative inexperience, she knew there was a recognizable difference.

He came back for more kisses. He had much more patience than she did, something that amazed her.

Then he was inside her and her groan of satisfaction was shocking to her own ears.

That satisfaction was muted, though.

She thought about the others ... this almost felt like the others.

She didn’t want to think about the others. And she didn’t want him to feel like the others.

She wanted him to feel like ... Bob.

It was the condom.

“Stop!” she gasped.

He did, looking down at her.

“Get off,” she said.

He did, instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you wanted this.”

For the first time in her life, Fumiko got assertive with a man.

“Stand up!” she snapped.

He got off the bed.

She rolled to sit in front of him and reached for the condom. Her fingernails had grown since coming to America. They slid under the rim of the thing. It was slippery, but she got a grip. She had never taken one off while there was still a hard penis in it, and she had to tug hard. A fingernail ripped it and, in frustration, she jerked harder.

“Ow!” said Bob, but in a voice that suggested it wasn’t that uncomfortable.

Finally his manhood was pink again, instead of white. She looked up at him.

“I do want this,” she said, her voice firm. “But not with one of those things on.”

“I’m honored,” he said, softly.

“I am unsatisfied,” she said, boldly.

He satisfied her.

He satisfied her three times.

And then, with a groan ... he satisfied himself.

Life after that was much less ... tense. Fumiko still recognized the oddity of her situation, but she ignored it. Ironically, the crowded atmosphere of the house was soothing to her. Things were frequently crowded in Japan.

By American standards, the house was cramped, rather than crowded. What made that less troublesome was that everybody living there liked everybody else. There were moments of discord, of course. All relationships have those. But there was an extra portion of patience involved, and the rough spots were weathered.

A social scientist might have hypothesized that, because the women were “competing” with each other for the available males, and because the available males were selecting from multiple mates, the constant evaluation involved was responsible for keeping things “fresh”. In other words, there were no monogamous relationships to become stale, or too comfortable.

The key to staying in love is to keep falling in love with your chosen mate over and over, as life changes that mate.

That “conventional” view of things might have been valid, in a sense, but the fact is that the selecting of bedmates was usually done by the women, not the men.

It wasn’t a free-love orgy, in any sense of the term. Sex wasn’t normally done in view of the others, but foreplay in ‘public’ wasn’t embarrassing to anybody. If one of the men felt frisky, he might approach a woman from behind and reach around her to cup and fondle her breasts. Whether that led to anything, though, was almost always the woman’s choice.

To be honest, both Tim and Bob got all the sex they wanted. Neither was ever frustrated because of unresolved horniness. Part of that, of course, was because the odds that one out of three women might be interested in making love were pretty good.

Fumiko did not seek out a physical relationship with Tim. Her internal resistance to “poaching” her daughter’s husband was too strong. Plus he seemed too young to view as a potential mate. Suki, on the other hand, knew her husband well. He was a randy, highly-sexed man, and she knew he was interested in her mother. He denied it, but when she teased him about it in bed, his reaction spoke louder than his words. What made this okay, to Suki, was that she knew he loved her and would never leave her.

It’s probably safe to say the average man - make that woman - might not be able to understand how Suki could willingly share Tim with Emma, occasionally, or even contemplate sharing him with her mother as well. In Suki’s case, however, her introduction into sexual play, passion, and then commitment, took place under circumstances the average woman never experiences. Basically, both Suki and Emma “grew up” in a situation where sharing was not threatening in any way, shape, or form. Sharing was, to them, just part of the love that was available in the home.

It also isn’t fair to say that, as both Tim and Fumiko initially resisted a mutual attraction, of sorts, it caused discord. It didn’t. Their interaction was that of an easy, comfortable friendship. It was just that, as happens in many easy, comfortable friendships, there is also some curiosity ... maybe a little fantasy ... passionate thoughts of unspoken possibilities that intrude on the mind, sometimes.

Suki detected that sexual tension. And, in her mind, felt that things might flow better if there were no barriers in the relationships of the family.

She resolved it the same way she’d resolved it with Bob.

She tried to convince her mother that Tim should be served.

By this time, Fumiko was no longer innocent, in terms of her previous life. She knew exactly what her daughter had in mind.

“Has your husband asked for this?” said Fumiko, intentionally reminding her daughter of her marital status.

“No,” admitted Suki. “But I know he would like it.”

“Any man would like it,” said Fumiko.

“Perhaps,” said Suki. “Is it that you don’t like him?”

“Of course not,” said Fumiko. “I think he’s a wonderful young man. That is the point. He is a young man. He is young enough to be my son.”

“That wouldn’t bother him,” said Suki.

“Of course not,” snorted Fumiko. “He might be young, but he’s still a man.”

“So you have never been curious about what he might be like ... in bed.”

Fumiko felt heat in her cheeks. Prior to this she might have covered her face with her hands, in shame. But she wasn’t that Fumiko, any longer.

“Perhaps,” she admitted.

“Then why not find out?” asked Suki.

“Because things are not done that way,” groaned Fumiko.

“I think you already know this family is different.”

“I will not go to Tim and ask that he bathe with me,” said Fumiko, firmly.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Suki. “I think you should let him give you a massage. He gives wonderful massages.”

Fumiko paused. A massage might not be so bad. Passion did not flare so vividly in that setting.

“Merely a massage,” she said.

“Yes,” said Suki, trying to keep her excitement from showing. “Just a massage. That will let you two get more comfortable.”

Fumiko decided not to tell her daughter she was already comfortable, more comfortable than she’d ever been in her life.

“Just a massage,” she said, capitulating.

Had Fumiko heard how Suki talked to Tim about the massage, she might have had second thoughts.

“Look,” said Suki. “I know you get excited, thinking about her. That’s okay. I know how much you love me. I just want everybody to feel like there are no barriers in this family. Plus I think you’ll blow my mother’s mind.”

“I will?” responded Tim. He wanted to just let that be a compliment, but curiosity demanded more. “Why?”

“Because you’re a very different kind of lover than Bob,” said Suki.

“How?” Now Tim was very curious. This was the first time Suki had compared him to his father in this way.

“Never mind that,” said Suki, leaving him slightly frustrated. “It’s a good kind of different. That’s all you need to know.”

“So I just give her a massage?”

“No, you dope. You give her an erotic massage.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” he said.

“I have some ideas about that,” said Suki. “So does Emma.”

It was awkward, at first. Fumiko had appeared in front of Tim dressed only in her robe, many times. She had seen him in only jockey shorts on several occasions. The bulge in those shorts, in fact, had made Fumiko curious. But she was only curious, and had not thought to investigate.

“You’ll just lie down on the bed,” said Tim, trying to sound like all of this was routine. “On your front. I mean I’ll do your back, first.”

“And I should be naked?” asked Fumiko.

“That’s the best way,” said Tim. Emma had actually made him practice saying that.

“And if I get cold?”

“Um ... the massage oil gets hot when it’s rubbed in,” said Tim. He didn’t tell her it was also flavored black cherry. Emma had gotten it for him somewhere.

“And you have done this before?”

Tim thought back to the two times he had massaged a woman. Suki had instructed him, as he practiced on Emma. Then Suki had been his final exam. Both women had been pleased.

“Yes,” he said.

Fumiko untied the belt of the robe Suki had instructed her to wear. He was wearing one, too. She was naked beneath hers, and wondered, briefly, if he was naked under his. She was only mildly surprised that her level of embarrassment was quite low. She decided that was a result of the fact that she already knew he looked at her sometimes, as a man looks at a woman, and that she didn’t mind that. All this did was satisfy his curiosity.

She lay down on the bed. There was no pillow, so she turned her head to one side.

His initial touch surprised her, and she flinched. His hands spread wide on her shoulder blades, and moved. They felt strong. She felt heat swipe across her back and was delighted at the sensation. America was full of fun, interesting things.

As a massage, it was quite enjoyable. Her initial discomfort seeped away as his hands moved all over her back, pushing and prodding. A little purr of contentment escaped her mouth.

His hands moved to her bottom, but the intimate touch there didn’t disturb her. It didn’t feel sexual. Part of that was because he only manipulated the flesh there long enough to make it feel alive, before moving to her legs.

“I need to be on the bed to reach you easier,” he said.

She felt him climb onto the bed near her feet. When his hands closed on each side of one ankle and then slid upwards, they painted more of that delicious heat all along her leg.