Breaking The Rules

I'm of Japanese descent. Born and raised in Orange County, my father had a landscaping busines and my mother ran dry cleaning store. We were solid middle class, we had a small house, around 1400 sq ft, with three bedrooms and two baths. We went to the local schools and drove five year old cars. My father had one wish for us, get into Berkley, so we studied and studied and studied and we did.

I went the MBA route and got a job with an investment banking company in New York. I was the only Japanese American there. Because of our particular heritage my skin tone is white and my looks are not so marked, yes I'm Japanese but if I want to look western I can. I dressed that way, talked that way and made myself up that way, to fit in. I also took with me my parents repugnance of mixing blood. I wasn't going to do it and didn't let a man take me to bed. I saved myself for marriage to the man my parents selected for me. Except they were all in California and didn't have an education and weren't sophisticated enough. I had changed, and a hard working man like my father just never interested me. I turned 40 with a virgin pussy, the only thing that had ever penetrated my pussy was doctor visits, and my Japanese pleasure toys. I used the internet to watch, varying from straight sex, to lesbian sex, to gay sex. My focus always on one thing, a pussy or a gay man being penetrated by a big thick dick, something no Japanese man has. In that sense, my expectations would never be met. Japanese men have little dicks and I needed a big man.

My father turned 65 and I went home for the celebration. It was typical Japanese. On the way home, back to New York I sat beside a 'rough neck', I had no idea what that was. A big man, from Louisiana, he said he was Cajun, with big hard working hands. We talked during the flight and he put his hand on my knee and squeezed it tight. His hand was strong, very strong, and I got that feeling way up in me. Don't get me wrong, Japanese women get wet and I got wet from it. From nothing to wet, I felt I had to go change my panties. His hand kept grabbing my knee, my thigh, and got inside my leg, the most I could do was let my little Japanese hands rest on his as he worked to feel me up. I was dripping, I suppose my eyes were telling him to keep it up, I didn't stop him, I let him run his hand up and down between my legs. High enough that he bumped up against my pussy and I let my legs open up.

He was scheduled to go overseas, he was catching the flight from New York to Saudi Arabia where he worked as a rough neck, actually he was a supervisor but Cajuns call themselves rough necks regardless of their level of responsibility. I convinced him to stay overnight in New York, so I could show him the sights. What he saw was deep within my legs, my small tits, my small ass. His monstrous hairy dick, that's what I saw, split me in half. Not once, not twice, three times. He kept telling me as he fucked me that there wasn't enough of me to fuck. I achieved, I say I achieved but probably he was the one that did it, I had an orgasm as he fucked me, it took my mind away of what was happening, when I came too he had me pinned down so hard that I couldn't breathe and he came, I could feel it, the way he picked up his hips, slammed it in and released himself.

He left the next day to start his shift. I felt embarrassed and humiliated from my behavior, letting a big hairy white man fuck me silly, tear my virgin pussy open, tear me a new asshole. I was withdrawn from work, I cried at night. All those years saving myself, and now I was ruined. No self respecting Japanese man would have me. I was not worthy of being a mother. When he called me and let me know the flight he was on, coming back through New York, spending the night with me, fucking me silly, having me suck his dick like a child licks an ice cream cone. I cooked for him, I showed him what a clean house I kept. And after six months he took me down to Louisiana and showed me around. Could I live there, in those houses, could I cook and clean there, is that what he wanted?

We married quietly in a civil ceremony, and then I told my parents. There silence told me how they felt, only my mother told me that it was a relief, they had concluded I was gay and that's why I lived in New York. Any man, even a big harry Cajun man was better. I never told them, you don't talk about that with your mother, how big he was and how good it felt to be fucked by him. Since I moved in with him and married him I stopped using my Japanese toys I bought when I was younger, waiting for the right man that my parents picked for me to marry.