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Saori pursed her lips in an expression that said so much more than her
attempts at broken english. Her lustrous shiny-black hair swayed gently to
just below her shoulders as she tilted her head to one side and relaxed
back into a smile. She looked straight at me. Her eyes danced when she
smiled, lips parting slightly, just barely suggesting the tip of her pink
tongue. Saori could not have been more than five feet and four inches
tall, but when she wore platform sandals as she did now, she nearly reached
my own five-ten. Her face was a smooth oval dipping down to a small chin.
Her fiery eyes were still locked on mine as I took snapshot after mental
snapshot of the tilt of her head, the taper of her neck, the slightly
heaving swell of her breasts. My gaze continued over her too-often-covered
mid section. A traditional Japanese up-bringing made her somewhat
self-concious of exposing certain parts of her body. Her ass, pert and
only slightly rounded, served as a tantalizing prelude to the most luscious
legs I've ever thought to caress. Her body, perfectly proportioned,
beckoned to me.

Her body certainly wasn't the only thing I was interested in. I don't
know if I'll ever find someone who I could talk to as comfortably and often
as I could with her. Well, I suppose I've had more than enough
'comfortable' relationships, where each person feeds off the affection of
the other. This girl, this woman, was not only interesting to talk to, but
she shared herself so fully as to make you want to share yourself fully
with her. It was a feeling of total and complete, head over heels, (dare I
say it) love.

We were standing in her doorway. Her place was a sort of duplex in an
aging building meant mostly for aging people. She got the apartment
because of the loving environment her parents had raised her in which
resulted in perfect manners and a sincere respect for others. Quite often
when I'd visit her after work, I'd find her talking with one or two of the
senior residents who often spent the afternoon hours on a communal porch.
She really seemed to enjoy discussing such innane topics as social
security, medicare, and the subtleties of knitting.

It was a warm night, slowly replacing a hot day. Lacking
air-conditioning, Saori's place had retained much of the day-time heat.
Warm air struggled to escape as the slightly cooler outside air struggled
to decide which was the best way to replace the outflowing stream with a
cooler, more pleasant atmosphere. The scrape of aluminum on paint brought
my attention back to the beautiful woman in front of me. Saori had her
hands behind her, grasping the handle of the screen door. Slowly, she
stepped toward me, taking inches off the distance between us. I could feel
her small quick breaths, like a spooked animal ready to bolt. As she
stepped into me, the screen-door came fully open, the latch she grasped
stopping her from advancing. She tilted her head down and to the right,
glancing inside, then back at me. Some stray hairs of hers lashed out at
my face though not violently. I relished even the smallest bit of physical
contact with any part of her. Instead of leaning further into me, she
turned and walked deliberately into the living room without removing her
shoes. I was surprised. One of my first lessons in Japanese etiquette was
to remove my shoes when I entered Saori's home.

As I stupidly contemplated the grave faux pas Saori had commited, she
was watching me through the slowly closing screen door obstructing my only
direct path to her. I would have non of that. I pulled the door open and
stepped onto the small piece of linoleum just inside the door which served
as a place remove various forms of footwear. Saori watched as I kicked off
my sandals, while she was still breaking all kinds of rules by trampling on
her immaculate white carpet with her platforms. When I approached her now,
we stood almost eye to eye, her sandals raising her up just enough. Her
eyes were like question marks. Why wasn't I grabbing her and making an
issue of how good a lover I could be to her?

Truth be told, I was kind of scared. I wanted to, it was obvious by the
way we were looking at each other -- not to mention the bulge that was
becoming less and less obscure. I had been aroused by Saori in the past,
but it was usually relatively easy to avoid notice. By now, though, we
were nearly against each other. While my mind was chattering ten thousand
things at once, my body was repeating a mantra I had felt it chant more
than a few times (in no recognizable language).

I brought a hand to the side of her face as I leaned into her. She took
a deeper breath and stepped even closer to me, our feet lining up, hers in
platform sandals and mine bare. Saori pressed her body against me. . . a
body I'd only dreamt about, never guessing that she would want the physical
company of my masculine form. The only sexual interests she had shared
with me in conversation concerned the cute lesbian couple that lived in her
apartment complex. When they had moved in, she complained about the noise
they made when they had sex. Even when one of the women was away, there
would be noise accompanied by the fierce hum of what I thought had to be an
industrial strength vibrator. As days turned to weeks, Saori began to show
less annoyance and more interest in their coupling. "How do you think they
do it?" she asked one day at a local coffee shop. I tried to explain what
a dildo was, only to be embarassed when a barista I knew from my
intermittent college days overheard us. Through all my muddled efforts, I
think she got the idea, and was intrigued.

Though sex talk could be plagued by linguistic difficulties, I hoped to
verify shortly that Saori knew exactly what a phallic object was for.
Under all our cultural differences, we were still the same animal, driven
to seek pleasure in each other. For now, I was in heaven just absorbing
the idea that I was physically holding this incredible woman, and that she
really, really, really wanted me to be holding her. When we kissed it was
like two lava flows coming together. My lips were parted either by
subconcious choice or by force, the fireceness of her tongue lashing out to
tease mine. I responded not quite as strongly (I don't know many women who
like to be invaded by a man's tongue in that particular situation).

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The tenderness of the moments before were fading quickly into the
darkness of memory as our mutual lust set us both solidly in the present.
As we kissed, Saori was sliding her hands behind me, dark red fingernails
lightly brushing my skin. Her hands met behind me and raised up, taking my
shirt up over my head. I lowered my hand from her face, beginning to work
on the first button of her top. When I did so, Saori breathed out
heavilly, impatiently, as she slid out of my grasp, dropping to one knee,
kissing her way down past my chest, one hand trailing behind while the
other scouted ahead, working my belt buckle. Saori whipped off my belt,
the leather making a snapping sound as she threw it aside. She dropped the
other knee to the ground, wrapping her right arm around my thigh. Saori
kissed and licked at my belly button as she pulled open the front of my
pants and reached for the bulge in my boxers. As my slacks slid down, I
absorbed the idea that this beautiful woman wanted me as much as I wanted
her. As blood rushed away from my head, all coherent thought left with it.
Saori arched her back slightly, turning her perfect face toward me again as
she finally freed my throbbing member. Neither huge nor puny, I pointed
seven inches straight out from my body. Saori seemed impressed enough.
There may be some truth to the myth that asian men are cursed with
equipment of a smaller caliber than most men of european stock. Whatever
the reason, Saori seemed enthralled by the sight of mine. She was below it
now, kissing my inner thigh while one hand grasped the base of my cock.
The purple head bulged as Saori moved her kisses up my thigh and found the
root of my organ. She tongued my balls each in turn, breathing hot air on
them as she worked her way to the underside of my cock. Saori turned to
one side and licked up and down the whole underside, applying just the
right amount of pressure to provide maximum pleasure. I reached down and
pushed her hair back over her left ear. It was something I did to her once
in a while, especially when she needed comforting. She looked up at me and
smiled, sending a shock through my body which made my cock twitch in the
air despite her firm grip. Never breaking eye contact, Saori rested the
head of my cock on her lower lip. I quivered in anticipation, and she
grinned again, this time, her smile partially blocked by my member. She
took a slow deep breath, and slid me into her warm wet mouth.

In that moment, everything was good in the world. There were no
thoughts of financial difficulties or the fact that I had to move in just a
few weeks. My mind was engulfed in the pleasure Saori was bringing me with
her mouth. She pulled her head back, readjusting her angle of attack.
Again, the outside world was muted by the intensity of my physical joy. My
cock, now slick with Saori's saliva, slid easilly in and out of her mouth,
between crimson lips which I had so often day-dreamed about kissing. Now,
not only had I been kissed with those lips, they were wrapped around my
cock. Saori began to stroke me with one hand. She slid her hand up and
down the entire length, matching the tempo of her lips. Everytime I
plunged deep into her mouth, I could feel her swishing her tongue against
the underside of my cock. Once in a while she would dip down and engulf
one testicle then the other into her flaming hot mouth. The sensation was
incredible, especially matched with her hand furiously stroking me toward
orgasm.

I could feel the tightness of impending climax looming closer. Saori, I
found, was not too far off herself. Her second hand, the one that was not
involved in assisting her oral feats, had undone the top buttons on her
short black skirt. Darkness kept me from seeing as well as I would have
liked, but it was obvious that though Saori was doing her best to make me
come, she wasn't leaving herself very far behind. My thoughts were
confirmed as she convulsed involuntarilly a few times, moaning around my
cock. The sensation, and the sight of her face, scrunched up in
concentration as she sought desperately to please both herself and her
partner brought me to the brink. I mumbled something unintelligible, meant
to warn her of my impending orgasm. It didn't matter what I said. She
knew what was coming, and welcomed it. Her pace picked up, both on me and
on herself. She was stretching her jaw to get the entire shaft of my cock
in her throat when another orgasm rippled through her body. She moaned
around my cock, impaling her face on me, driving me deeper and deeper into
her. I could feel her gag reflex jump and then stop as I slid in to the
hilt.

Saori was literally trying to swallow my cock -- the sensation
overwhelming -- when I finally grunted in response to my own climax. Hot
come surged through my cock from base to tip and out into Saori's waiting,
greedy throat. An intense shudder pulled my cock, involuntarily, out of
her mouth. Another spurt of come landed on the left side of her face,
running down to her jawline, collecting near her chin. Another and another
spurt landed on her lips as her mouth hung half open. Almost unconciously,
Saori reached up with the hand that had been pleasuring her moments before.
Still shuddering from her lingering climax, she wiped my cum off her chin
and pushed two fingers into her mouth, sucking on them hugrilly. Saori
still held my cock in her other hand. As I was riding the wave of my first
orgasm of the night, the sight of Saori sucking on the fingers that had
just gotten her off brought me back to attention. I knew I wasn't even
going to get soft after that. I was ready for anything.

Saori, however, was not. She was relishing her intense set of orgasms,
and was probably a bit too sensitive for a good fuck, which was what I had
in mind. Instead, I helped her out of the rest of her clothes and picked
her up. A noble gesture, I soon found out that carrying a woman up a
flight of stairs just after an intense sexual encounter may not have been
the best idea. At one point I almost dropped her. I don't think she
noticed. We made it to the bathroom and I switched on the flow of warm
water in her shower. As we waited for the water to warm up, I realized
that we had not said a word to each other since she had so coyly said
"Oyasumi" -- goodnight -- out on the porch, just before silently inviting
me in. Saori and I held each other. I let my hands explore her body,
stroking her lightly, hoping to make her feel secure and loved. She
managed a meek smile as she burrowed her head into the crook of my neck.
Her hair was as perfect as ever, draped down her chest as she idily kneaded
my upper arm. Saori often complained about her straight, black, asian hair. Stylists just couldn't do anything with it, she said. I loved it.
It didn't even look like she'd just given an incredible blowjob minutes
before. Maybe it was because I hadn't vigorously tugged on her hair like
other men might have. I looked forward to seeing how it would stand up to
the rest of the night, which, I hoped, would prove eventful.