Properly Honoring One's Seniors

Nonplussed.

Taken aback.

Disconcerted.

Startled.

Befuddled.

Flummoxed.

Choose one (or more!) from column A to describe Samuel's reaction, his state of mind. Such a thing had never happened to him before, never, nowhere, nohow. Sure, he was now 66 (going on about 43 he told himself). And sure, the bus was full – but to have someone offer him their seat? And not just any old 'someone', but this absolutely beautiful, absolutely TINY Japanese woman? She could have been anywhere between thirteen and early thirties – he couldn't tell. The lovely low-rise bosom suggested lower twenties. Tiny, tiny, tiny! And exquisitely pretty, in anything but a little-girl way despite her size. Her tank top seemed painted on, and displayed the minuscule hillocks of her breasts, capped by what might well be the world's tiniest mature human nipples. Plus a set of poured-into-them stretch jeans. And her sandals – probably size double-zero or some such – surely they belonged on a Barbie Doll?

She'd looked up at him from her seat, caught his eye, started to rise. Genuinely embarrassed, he shook his head, waved her down, saying "Thanks, it's not necessary. I like to stand – it's good exercise!" She settled back. Sam looked at her: she apparently didn't notice his gaze, her eyes were aimed demurely into her lap, at her folded hands. God, he thought – her hands are miniatures!

At the next stop the seat beside her went vacant: she looked up at him again, gestured for him to join her – a gesture half command, half tentative invitation. He settled beside her as the bus lurched into motion, forcing their thighs to touch full-length in the narrow "two-very-skinny-people" seat. "Thanks!" he said, looking over at her. She raised her face, met his gaze, and nodded. "Why did you offer me your seat?" he asked. She was, on the surface, a perfect stranger – but something about her was tickling the backside of his memory-banks: he just relaxed, mentally, to let it surface.

She gave a tiny shrug: "Because you are much older than me, and in my culture – or rather, in my ancestral and family culture- age deserves respect. Age is supposed to be accompanied by wisdom. It is only sometimes that age does in fact coincide with wisdom – but always we make that assumption. Also - knowledge and learning are revered." She paused, then went on. "Plus, you are a teacher and a scientist, and both are quite highly valued: they enhance the respect due to any person."

Sam was totally at sea – she was right on both professional counts, but how the hell did she know such things about him? She smiled at him – it was positively dazzling. He was struck for the Nth time – with N very large – by how utterly horny, how turned on, he could get, and how fast. He wondered how old she was, her weight, her height – could she possibly stretch to five feet? He doubted it. An explanation was forthcoming.

"I can see that you are surprised I know you, Doctor Johnson. You undoubtedly do not remember me, but I was in your 600-student lecture section two years ago, when I was still an undergraduate. Now, however, I am well into my doctoral research. In another field than yourself, however."

The penny dropped, and Sam's memory retrieved an image, a name. "AH!" he said: "You sat about five rows back, on my left, at the aisle. I believe your name is Yoshiko?"

She laughed, delighted, and replied "Very good, Doctor! The name is actually Yoshino – like the decorative cherry tree. I am surprised that you remember me at all. I was a very shy student in your class – I hadn't enough background to ask intelligent questions. At least, not often." She paused, laughed again: "I am a good deal less shy nowadays!"

Sam was entranced, and did, in fact, recall that she'd asked several good questions. He told her so, and she blushed at the compliment. A long pause ensued as they balanced against the bus's sudden hard turn, which produced more thigh contact.

"Tell me, Doctor, where are you going on this bus? I've never seen you on a number 71 before." Downtown, he told her, to spend an afternoon at the city art museum. And she? Enroute to the big, good used-book store, half a block from the art museum. Would he, she queried tentatively, be interested in having a coffee with her before they went on to their independent destinations? If he were interested, and had the time, she would be quite honored and pleased - she was enjoying talking to him outside of class. He accepted, making it clear that it was a splendid idea, and insisting that she call him Sammy instead of Doctor – they were no longer student/teacher, and there certainly wasn't any reason for prolonging formalities.

She knew just where she wanted to go for coffee, a couple of blocks away. She took his arm perfectly naturally, easily matched his much-shortened stride. They chatted as they walked, and he studied their reflection in the windows – he wasn't a big man, perhaps five nine, but he certainly appeared gargantuan alongside her! An odd feeling, but nice – it made him feel rather protective.

Coffee – twin double full-caffeine lattes – appeared on the tiny tête-à-tête table she'd chosen, over in a corner, private save for being beside a street-front window. The conversation flourished. They got along famously – she was brighter and better read than he might have expected, even from their classroom interactions, and topics ranged widely, from academics to her plans and research, to family things on both sides. And unknown to one another, each had always found intelligent conversation a profound aphrodisiac.

To end a momentary pause, he said, tentatively, "Yoshino, I simply have to ask..."

She stopped him with a finger to his lips, and a giggle: he thought she was absolutely the sexiest thing he'd encountered in many years, and wished he could tell her so.

"It usually takes less time – you are a very discreet person, Sammy. May I answer what I believe is your question, before you ask it? Then you can tell me if I was correct!" He nodded, waited. "Four feet ten and one half inches, and forty kilos naked dripping wet, which makes me exactly ninety pounds in that idiotic English system."

His face told her she'd nailed it. He reddened, said "Bingo. Hope you don't find the question impolite..."

She shook her head, then grinned and said "Not at all – I would guess YOU at perhaps one hundred seventy and five foot eight or nine inches. If you can confirm that, then we have equal information about one another." He nodded – she was quite close. "The last piece of the question is always my age. It's twenty five. I am NOT a teenager, Doctor Sammy! Those years are long ago and far away, and good riddance to them!"

There was a long moment of silence, then she laid her hand atop his on the table, seemed vaguely nervous. He started at her touch, looked quizzically at her. "Sammy, may I tell you something quite private? Now that we are no longer in a student-teacher relationship? And will you promise not to get upset?"

He studied her expression, then slowly turned his hand beneath hers until they were palm to palm – her hand simply disappeared into his as he closed it gently. The gesture was both sensitive and sensuous – it told her every remaining thing she needed to know. Sammy was more or less male-obliviato, although enjoying the touch greatly.

"I promise. No upset – but I don't understand what..."

She took a deep breath, and again put a finger over his lips. "I was raised, Sammy, in an extremely religious and extremely conservative atmosphere. I have worked conscientiously to escape from that upbringing. To become my own person. It has been difficult, but I feel I have succeeded rather well." He nodded. "Sammy... you should know that I developed quite a crush on you while I was in your class." Yoshino held his gaze.

He replied quietly "I'm astonished, and infinitely flattered. But WHY?"

She wriggled her hand within his: he tightened his grip slightly, she quit moving and luxuriated in the friendly, actively sexy warmth and pressure. "For many reasons. The respect-factor of which we spoke is probably a central item. Actual calendar age is immaterial – your behavioral age is much, much younger than the calendar indicates, which I know from your web-site is sixty-six. You are both physically attractive and in very, very good physical condition. You are intellectually attractive in many ways, especially as a teacher. A superb teacher, in fact. And besides... there is the matter of your lecturing while dressed in shorts and tee-shirts. You have a very nice body, to my way of thinking. Very."

She giggled and squeezed his hand again. "The net result was an intense crush and a level of infatuation that led to many months of lurid daydreams. And night-time regular dreams, too. I remember my dreams well – they are often quite vivid, Sammy. And you have been a major player in them ever since the start of that class. Of course, when you were the teacher and I the student, any mention of such a thing as a crush, or of attraction of any sort, any contact outside of professional relationships, were all completely verboten. Unthinkable. Although we both know it happens all the time. I think such a no-contact rule is a good idea, and I hew to it."

Samuel was finding this one-sided conversation enormously arousing, but he had no clue what he ought to do in response. Nor did he clearly see where she might be going, although it certainly sounded purposeful, not mere idle chatter. So he waited.

"Sammy, we are long past the requirement for such non-contact. Well over a year, in fact. I am a thoroughly liberated woman, despite my upbringing. My parents think I am a lost cause because I am not yet married with a family. They hate the idea, but I do have the occasional boyfriend – although not at the moment. My family is especially upset because I have chosen to date only Caucasian men - I do not like the attitude of Asian men towards women. Nowadays, I consider people and relationships quite carefully, and am both careful and selective."

She paused for another long, searching stare into him, over coffee now ignored and cooling. "I can choose which of my interests to pursue, and how, and where, and when." Her pause was even longer this time. Finally, "And, Doctor Sammy, I have hoped for some such encounter as this, wherein I might indulge myself totally."

She held his gaze, wriggled her hand in his again, and took a pronounced, long, deep breath. Samuel's insides were tied in a wrenching knot, waiting. "Tell me, Doctor Sammy – were I to ask you to come spend the rest of the afternoon with me at my apartment, would you be of a mind to sacrifice your visit to the art museum? There, at my place, you might just encounter some more personal experiences – hopefully much more interesting and satisfying than even a wonderful museum visit could provide. I would certainly be ready to sacrifice my visit to the bookstore in such a cause. Truly I would."

Wordlessly, he leaned across the table. Their kiss went on quite literally for several minutes, to the amusement of occasional passers-by on the sidewalk outside. When at last they surfaced, she nodded, smiled, squeezed his hand and said "You kiss magnificently! I will take that as a 'yes' – shall we go now? We can catch the proper bus half-way up the block, in..." she studied her watch: "...about four minutes. Let's go!"

An eighth-floor apartment, small, Spartan: furnishings high in quality and low in number. The door clicked shut behind them. She spun the deadbolt into place, turned to face him, looking up across the foot difference in their heights.

She grinned as she reached for his belt buckle, and said "I am a ferociously and perpetually horny person, Sammy. In general, yes, but right now very specifically for YOU. A culmination of all those hopeless dreams over the last two years! I hope you don't mind too much if part of my being liberated means I like to take command of sexual things on occasion... such as NOW. Perhaps we can trade leadership roles later, if necessary or desirable. Right now, we have a choice – undress one another or undress ourselves. As designated leader, I choose the first. Hold still, but also get started. At once!"

Naked inside a minute, they studied one another at arm's length for a few seconds. She was an absolutely perfect miniature, tiny breasts, lovely hips and thighs, a divine little-girl-ish crotch on an enchanting woman's body, nothing in the least concealed by her few wisps of almost-straight, jet black pubic hair. She was, and he told her so, the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered in person – and she could tell he meant it. Given his over fifty years of experience, she was highly flattered. In turn, she admired, out loud, his butt and leg muscles, accepting almost in passing, almost as a given, the rock-like erection he sported.

A few moments' inspection sufficed: she took him by the cock, led him to her bedroom, then, with a grin, pushed him down onto his back and straddled his hips, saying "I warned you that I like to be in charge, at least part of the time. I do hope you aren't upset by my being on top?" She reached down between her legs, found his erection, tugged it into the proper position, and muttered "Wonderful! You don't seem to be at all upset by my tastes!" The mismatch in size was real, but inconsequential - she simply sat down on him with a low whistling grunt, followed by an appreciative humming as she began to rock.

They lived up to one another's fondest hopes, and spent the entire afternoon and well on into the evening in a perfect frenzy of high-powered fucking, the athletics interspersed with prolonged sessions of mutual fondlings and explorations both physical and intellectual. Her self-liberation hadn't yet brought her to the level and depth of knowledge and techniques that Sammy possessed, but her willingness to learn, her rabid enthusiasm, and the fact that Sammy found her entire persona and body to be the ultimate turn-on, all conspired to produce a monumental, memorable, and even record-breaking encounter.

Nearing six in the evening, Sammy's face was again buried between her thighs for the Nth time with N large. Her excitement was resurgent – before losing control entirely once more, she took him briefly by the ears, pulled his head up so she could see into his eyes: "Dinner is a MUST-HAVE item, Sammy – I am starving, and you must be also. In thirty minutes, we will go somewhere. And then, unless you fight the program, we shall return here, and resume. Can you spend the night?"

Sammy kept his mouth fully occupied through her little soliloquy, and managed to nod vigorously without much affecting the sensations he was providing. "Goody!" Yoshino said, then, just before she lost the ability to talk coherently, "And as many repeats of this entire encounter as we can possibly manage. Okay?"

Even though he had to do so wordlessly, Sammy quickly made it crystal clear that he agreed.