At Sukis Ch 01

It was on the subway where I first saw her, so brashly youthful, so self-possessed, so slyly insouciant, sitting alone in the seats usually set aside for the elderly, gazing at herself in a small compact mirror she was holding. She had been applying makeup to her eyes with quick, deft strokes, and I admired how agile she was. I could never put makeup on while riding the train. My hands aren't too steady as it is, and I would feel far too exposed, doing something like that in public that I'm usually doing in the privacy of my bedroom.

The truth was, she was beautiful. I had always been fascinated with Japanese women, and Suki was no exception. Women from Japan just have always seemed so stylish, so slim, so petite; they are everything that I've always wished I was. Me, I'm a tall, gawky American woman, and I've always felt a little overgrown, ever since my breasts began to develop when I was twelve. Maybe it was all that hormone-saturated milk my mother made me drink with lunch and dinner that made me so bosomy so early in life. I don't know, but it has always been a curse to me. I've never known what to do about all the stares from men I would attract. When that happened to me as a teenager, it scared me terribly, and it some ways it's made me a little wary of men ever since.

To me, Asian women, with their small frames and narrow waists and perfect honey-brown skin, were the ideal I couldn't live up to. So I've been half in love with every Asian girl I've ever known, particularly Michiko, who in high-school had become the first girl I ever kissed. Before that I had kissed a few boys -- on bus trips and in dark closets during drinking parties -- but none of them ever made me feel anything. But words can hardly describe what I felt when I kissed Michiko that day in her parents’ station wagon. It was like discovering for the first time what pleasure really could be, what life is supposed to promise. She put her gentle lips on mine and I felt an explosion of moisture between my legs, and my whole body seemed to be swelling and blushing simultaneously. I felt magnetized, irrepressibly drawn to Michiko, overwhelmed with an irresistible urge to press my body against hers, to feel her against me, to rub her pert little breasts and kiss her all over her body.

But we were both so meek; we couldn’t follow through with it. But since then, I’ve fantasized about her constantly, bringing myself to luscious orgasm after orgasm, thinking about her lips on mine, and my hands on her body, her dark eyes and her smile, and how bright and beautiful her face was, how delicious her mouth was. I get wet just describing it now, thinking of her still, my lost Michiko. But she doesn’t matter anymore, now that Suki has come to possess me.

So we were on the subway, and after she was done putting away her makeup kit, I felt that she was noticing me as much as I was noticing her, because whenever I looked at her, she was staring back at me with a enigmatic, mocking smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was ready to laugh at me, or if she was, for some impossible reason, fascinated by me. She had short, pixie-like hair, straight and black and boyish, tortoise shell glasses in narrow frames that perched halfway down her button nose, and she wore a skirt with tiny open-toed black shoes that showed off her delicious toes, perfectly painted a bright shiny red. How I wanted to nibble on them, suck them until the enamel came off -- God, where do such thought come from! And she was wearing a shirt like none I’d ever seen, it fit her snuggly across her breasts, emphasizing their roundness and fullness for a woman so small, but it hung loosely around her arms and waist, and had a curious collar, slightly but intentionally asymmetrical, provocative, as it exposed a sliver of her beautiful porcelain shoulder.

I was getting dizzy just at the thought of her looking at me, I felt like I was swaying at the edge of a precipice. Finally I just dove in. I sat beside her, and she smiled at me. I told her I liked her shirt, that I never saw anything like it.

“You like it?” she said. “Thank you so much! I make it myself.” I was relieved to find that she spoke English well enough to communicate. Her voice was surprisingly sultry for someone so petite. We introduced ourselves to each other, and we made small talk. My heart was pounding in my throat the whole time, and I hoped she couldn’t tell how hard my nipples had become. It felt almost unseemly. She continued to tell me about her clothes-making for a while until finally I told her that I would love it if she would make a shirt for me.

“I would love that,” she said. “I’d love to make girl like you look nice and sexy.” She smiled with that same coy, clever look, and she shifted slightly against me. Did that mean what I thought it could?

“Well you would have your work cut out for you,” I said.

“Don’t be silly,” she growled. “Beautiful tall American girl like you,” she said, “it’s nothing to make you sexy. The whole world dreams of you.” She looked me up and down with serious look now, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed me. I felt myself blushing unaccountably. After all, we were just having an innocuous conversation. Yet I felt warm, on fire, and my pussy was getting wetter and wetter the more she looked at me. I felt that if she touched me, even casually, accidentally, I might explode. And I longed desperately for it.

I could hardly think to speak. She asked for my number, and I was so nervous I could barely spit out the digits as she programmed them into her phone. “I call you sometime, take your measurements” she said, slyly, with a definite note of salaciousness. I couldn’t have been imagining it.

I practically ran home from my subway stop to get home and masturbate. I put my hair up, dug my vibrator out of my drawer and set myself up in front of my full length mirror the way I like. I can angle the mirror down so I can watch myself, so I can see the slim vibrator slip in and out between the lips of my vagina until my clit stiffens. I lean against the wall and watch myself spreading open, wider and wider, and I imagine it is Suki watching me, smiling her enigmatic smile, saying, “you have such beautiful measurement.” My breasts were certainly larger than hers, maybe this will intrigue her, I thought. I held them up and offered them to the mirror, tweaking my nipples, which were as stiff as push pins. They felt heavy and luscious to me, plump and melon-like, and I imagine Suki, her tortoise-shell glasses on, sucking away at my nipples, pulling and tugging until it was like there was a cord connecting each nipple directly with my clit.

I put my thumb in my mouth, and imagined it was Suki’s big toe, and I sucked and sucked, closing my eyes and then opening them to see myself in the mirror, naked and languorous, pleasure roiling through me. I came like crazy, thinking of her, dreaming I was plunging my tongue into her tight Japanese snatch.

It wasn’t too many days later that she called and invited me to her apartment. It was in some neighborhood I had never been in Queens, and the directions were finally so confusing that she agreed to meet me at the station and walk me back to her place. I had the hardest time deciding what to wear. I didn’t know if Suki was really interested in me as a lover, or if she really just wanted to make clothes for me. I didn’t know how much seduction was expected out of me.

I decided to slut myself up a bit, and I wore my tightest tank-top, which showed my breasts to their best advantage and left nothing to the imagination. Usually I’m too embarrassed to wear a top like that, but this was a special occasion, perhaps the only occasion I could think of that would warrant it. I put on a little makeup, which I usually don’t do, and I put on stockings and a short skirt, one that emphasized my long legs. Looking in the mirror, I seemed sexy enough. But I still felt awkward. I felt as if my whole body had become sensitized, and dressing sexy intensified the feeling, an all over buzz that was warm and distracting.

Walking to the subway, I got lost in the buzz, and almost forgot where I was headed. The skirt made me walk with my legs close together, and the friction this was causing between my legs was driving me crazy, and turning me on. I could tell people were noticing me, watching my breasts bounce, looking at the cleavage that my tank-top exposed. Part of me wanted to hide, but another part of me was reveling in it. I felt a little shameless, and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. I forgot how totally arousing it was.

When I got to her stop, Suki was waiting for me as she had promised. She looked amazing. She wore a long form-fitting dress that presumably was her own creation as well, and it revealed her tight little ass and her perky breasts as well as the beautiful lines her torso made. Her hips were narrow, so she had a slender physique, exactly what I have always dreamed of, exactly what I haven’t had myself since I was twelve. She had giant Jackie O sunglasses on that made her head seem perfectly round, perfectly cute.

“Look at you,” she said, laughing, “You’re so beautiful now! Beautiful American woman of the world.” She playfully grabbed my hand to take me to her apartment, and we held hands the entire way. It was like a wonderful dream. She was talking and laughing, tell me about the sights in her neighborhood as we passed them, all the while our hands clasped together, swinging back and forth. At one point she pulled me close, and I could feel her small lithe body tremble beside me. Or perhaps that was just me quivering with anticipation. On the corner, in front of a fruit stand, she raised her sunglasses onto her forehead and looked into my eyes for a long pregnant moment. “I can’t wait to get to apartment,” she said. “I want to put my hand up your skirt.”

Immediately I blushed and my pussy became positively soaked. “That’s why I wore it,” I said.

In front of her door, we kicked off her shoes, and she brought my hand to her lips and kissed it. “Don’t be so nervous,” she said. We were barely inside her apartment when she pulled her long dress up over her head and demonstrated that, just as I had suspected, she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Her naked body was sheer perfection. Her breasts, so elegant, like little teardrops rolling down her chest, with light brown nipples, hard little buds just waiting to be tongued. And her pubic hair was mostly shaved, save for a dark, silky stripe that come up from her slit, which already appeared to be lubricated with her sweet juice.

“What you waiting for?” she said. “Let’s play.” She threw her body against me, and my hands were in her hair, and caressing her body and feeling her softness, and sliding over every curve they can find: her hips, her ass, her thighs. She put her hand up my skirt as she promised, and pulled my panties down so she could get at my dripping cunt. “Oh,” she murmured, her voice as sultry as it was in my dreams, “you all wet already. I love that.” And she worked her fingers inside me deftly, and it felt as if I was shaped just for her and her quick little fingers all of a sudden, and how come I never knew this before? I never knew anything like this pleasure before.

I was nearly panting, licking her neck, kissing her bare shoulders, squeezing the tight cheeks of her ass, trying to work my own fingers inside. I was six inches taller than her, and it seemed as if my hands could reach everywhere.

“You’re a crazy American girl,” Suki said. “I bet you do crazy things.”

“I do anything,” I said, kissing her, sucking her neck, running my fingers through her short hair.

“Come to the bedroom,” she said. She led me by the hand to her bedroom, which had a four-poster bed with a canopy and was lit with candles. I could hear the sound of gently running water. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered, and I obeyed, while she attended to something in one of the drawers of her bureau. I wrestled my tank-top off and let my breasts free from the bra I was wearing. I pulled off the skirt and stood there in nothing but my stockings when she turned around when she turned around.

I was stunned for a moment by what I saw, because she suddenly had a huge jet black penis jutting from her slender hips. Then I saw she had put on a strap-on dildo. “Want me to fuck with you this, huh? American girl like that big black cock?”

Her voice made me weak, faint with desire. I licked my lips and said, “God yes, Suki. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

“I like it when you say please,” she said, with a slight chuckle to her voice. “Down on your knees.” I got on my knees, not even noticing that she had begun to bark commands at me. I was putty in her hands, completely given over to her, delirious with a need to have her body against mine. “Suck on it,” she said, thrusting the big rubber cock at me, and of course I sucked on it, even though it nearly gagged me, especially as she was twisting her hips, forcing it deeper.

“That’s nice,” she giggled, and I couldn’t tell if she was feeling pleasure, or if she was just laughing at me, with the rubber cock in my mouth. It didn’t matter. I would do anything she told me at this point, and I was so turned on, she could have stuck the lit candle in my cunt and it would have made me come.

Finally she pulled the rubber cock out of my mouth, turned me around, bent me over a chair she had, and started to fuck me from behind. I gasped when I felt that black cock push into me. It felt so amazing. I felt filled up like I never had been before. She worked at my cunt with that rubber cock relentlessly, gyrating her hips, thrusting with primal power, all the while laughing her enigmatic laugh and muttering words I didn’t understand in Japanese. Me, I couldn’t speak. I was too busy moaning with pleasure. I was coming before I knew it, great waves of pleasure that rippled through me as she split me open.

I begged her to let me eat her pussy. “Please,” I begged. I wanted her to feel the pleasure I had felt, and I thought it was the surest way to make her come. But she had withdrawn into a shell, and she seemed uninterested in communicating with me. She lay back on her bed, and drew the canopy closed. I poked my head in the opening, and she pushed it away with her bare foot. I only caught a glimpse of her pleasuring herself with the same black cock that she fucked me with. I was disappointed she wouldn’t share her pleasure with me. But what could I do? I dressed quickly, feeling very foolish, suddenly, in my sexy clothes I had worn, and then I left.

I didn’t know where I was going in her neighborhood, so I wondered lost for a while, partly in a daze from all the pleasure and all the disappointment. I had been on an emotional roller-coaster, and I barely knew what to think, was barely aware of my surroundings. I bumped into people. I nearly got hit by a bus as I wandered into a street without watching the signals. I was a mess. I wondered if I would ever see Suki again.

*

A few weeks went by without me hearing anything of Suki. I sought for her in vain on the train where I met her, but didn't see her. I tried the number she gave me, but it rang and rang and rang. I began to think it was all a dream, an overheated fantasy my brain concocted to spur my desires. But then one morning I received a call. The moment she spoke OI knew it was her, and immediately my heart began to race with delight and trepidation. "I make something for you," she said, "I want you to come over and try." I told her I could hardly wait, and said I'd be on the first train out to her neighborhood.

When I got to her neighborhood, it was like being plunged back into an ornate and lurid dream. Part of it was because it was so foreign. All the signs were in Asian characters, and all around me were Chinese and Japanese faces, the sounds of their languages, totally mystifying to me. I felt like i stuck out so much, I saw no other white faces at all. And this aroused me in a strange way, a feeling compounded by the fact that I only had come to this place to have sex, to indulge myself in sex and nothing else. So everything seemed erotic; the way I stuck out, the way I seemed to be taller than everyone else, the way the streets seemed to wind and turn on themselves, the smells of meat cooking at sidewalk barbecues. I felt lost in a mass of alien sensations, which made all my senses heightened, and my entire body was alive to stimulation.

By the time I was at Suki's apartment, I was on fire with desire, my cunt wet and ready for her. She was more beautiful than I even remembered her. She had a boy's white wife-beater shirt on and a pair of panties. She threw her arms around me and kissed me on the mouth, letting my tongue dance inside her mouth for a moment before she pulled away and giggled like she always did. Her short hair was toussled, and her glasses had become crooked on her face. She looked so cute, I wanted to devour her.

"My big beautiful American girl," she said, laughing. i wondered if she was going to fuck me with the strap on again; I yearned to have something inside me, and feel her hands all over my body. I began to take off the shirt and shorts I was wearing, moving towards her, wanting her touch. But first, before she would make love, she wanted me to try on the outfit she made for me.

The first component was a corset. "You made this?" I asked. I couldn't even fathom making something so complex. She put it around my waist, and I got on my knees so she could lace it up. She would loop the lace through two holes, and pull tight, and I would gasp as it cinched me. And the process seemed to go on and on, the corset squeezing my ribs tighter and tighter until I thought I would suffocate. But the more tight it became, the more painful it was for me to move, to breathe, the more aroused I became especially as it thrust my breasts out forward as it straightened my back it made impossible for me to hunch forward.

Finally Suki was finished lacing it, and she had me stand up. "Look how beautiful you are!" she said, and she led me to a full length mirror where I could see myself. I looked totally different, I could hardly recognize my body. Because my back was so straight, I seemed several inches taller. My waist was suddenly so wildly narrow, and my breasts, by comparison, looked gigantic, so much larger compared to my tiny waist. My hips, too, suddenly seemed so wide, so curvaceous, so shapely. The corset made my breasts thrust out so far, too, in front of my arms, in a frankly sexual pose that I never saw myself in. And it made my ass stick out in the back, too, and made my vagina so easily accessible from the rear. Plus I was so wet, too, I felt wide open to the world. I never felt like such a sexual object before. It made me swoon a bit, or perhaps that was just my shortness of breath, since it was so hard for to take in breaths with the corset as tight as it was.

I thought that was all, but there was more to the outfit Suki had made me. First she had me pull on black stockings that reached the middle of my thighs and then a skirt that didn't even reach the tops of those stockings. Of course, I wasn't wearing any underwear. And then she had me put on a white, translucent silk shirt that fit like nothing I had ever worn. It was designed to be as tight as the corset around my waist, but featured a soft, loose upper half, that cupped my breasts in gentle bags of silk, In the mirror I could see how you could see my hard nipples and the brown of my aueroles right through the material in the light.

Now that I was more fully dressed, I looked even more lascivious. Everything about me seemed to scream a sexual availability: the way my breasts were thrust out and compartmentalized in their silk pouches, the way the short skirt draped barely over my bare ass, which I couldn't help but stick out lewdly, like a monkey in heat, and the slashes of white, creamy thigh that showed beneath the tiny skirt and above the stockings I wore, little flashes of flesh, and my legs, perfectly sleek and long in the black nylon encasement. "You so sexy," Suki said.