Cherry Blossoms Ch. 02

Besides weekends, when I would go visit Kameko, this became our usual pattern. As soon as Mr H. left for work each day, we would undress and copulate in every corner of the house. Within a week, I had planted my seed inside Mrs Hashira in every room of the house, in the shower, in the bath, in the entrance hall, on the bedroom floor, sitting on the toilet, on the kitchen counters. At first, we restricted our fucking to daylight hours, while it snowed outside, and Mr Hashira was at work. But after a while we just didn't care any longer and did it whenever we felt like it.

When Mr Hashira came home from work he said nothing and just sat in the other room while we 'gardened'. Mrs Hashira was ecstatic at my handwork, shouting 'yes' 'that's it!' each time I did the right thing, complimenting me loudly on how many seeds I was able to plant inside her. And whenever she served her husband dinner, she kept talking about how she couldn't wait for the seeds I put inside her to germinate so she could finally have a baby. The young wife seemed to enjoy cuckolding her husband. It were as though she were extracting some sort of revenge on him for his inability to have children or pleasure her. I wondered if Mr Hashira was jealous, but he seemed totally content seeing me and his wife together.

"Hai! Yatta!" Mrs. Hashira would exclaim with childlike glee every time I made her pussy quiver with another potent orgasm, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to her husband's quietude.

"I love foreign cock!" she'd declare, riding me on the sofa while her husband watched television in one of the armchairs. I had taken to eating her out on the living room floor before fucking her senseless and she had grown fond of stroking me off until I was just about to cum. Then Mrs H. would ride me, paying no attention to her husband, even when he was in the room.

Over that blessed month of unending sex, my beautiful host even agreed to swallow several of my creamy loads, assured in the knowledge that there would always be more semen for inside her and acknowledging that her pussy needed a break sometimes. Her compliments, genuine or not, warmed me from the inside out, and the prospect of my 'seeds' germinating inside Mrs Hashira's womb, filled me with a sense of accomplishment I hadn't felt since arriving in Japan.

One snowy afternoon, as I ate a steaming lunch after a morning of relentless copulation, Mrs. H. leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Just imagine, Max," she murmured in my ear, even though we were alone in the house, "all the beautiful blossoms you have put inside me."

I fucked Mrs Hashira over the kitchen sink while she did the dishes after dinner that night, and Mr. Hashira's aloof presence, silently listening from the neighbouring room, only intensified my pleasure. Inseminating another man's wife had become an indescribable joy to me and even Kameko seemed to have noticed something was on my mind. I began to think about making Mrs Hashira pregnant all the time, adopting her obsession as my own. Kameko usually accepted my excuse that I was tired from teaching and preferred visiting her at her own apartment, but Mr H knew the truth and I wondered if he enjoyed hearing his wife being ravaged by another man.

In fact, I began to think there was something developing between Mrs Hashira and I that went deeper than our financial arrangement, and I wondered if things would go on like this forever. But as it turned out, I was wrong. As soon as she fell pregnant, the Hashiras asked me to leave.

Mrs Hashira was distant towards me when she came home from the doctor one morning with the happy news. I tried to kiss her put she pushed me away.

"Really? So we're done here?" I asked, hoping she might change her mind.

She asked me to please understand the sensitivity of the situation. Her husband had tolerated her fantasy of having children with another man but now that she had fallen pregnant it was time for me to leave, she explained. I said I respected her position.

"So you're really pregnant?"

"Yes, Max. I am pregnant with your child. You will leave first thing in the morning."

As aloof as Mrs Hashira had become, the next morning while I was packing my things, she came to say goodbye and a flicker of sadness showed plainly on her face. Her left hand, shining with its oversized diamond wedding band, lingered on my chest as we said our goodbyes, holding me away from her while touching my heart.

"Business is business," I said matter-of-factly.

She nodded. "Sensitive position," she murmured. "My husband has suffered enough."

I said I understood and wished them both the best of luck with their new family. She gave me a hug and left the room while I finished packing. When she returned she had some meals packed for me. I appreciated the gesture. She really was going to make a good mother. I carried my bag to the door, and she handed me a business card. Apparently a friend of hers might have work for me. Another sweet gesture and a stark reminder that I was once again out of a job.