Michi 2

(JUST A NOTE:  This is somewhat of a continuation of the "original" Michi WHICH IS IN MY PORTFOLIO. Maybe one day I will make a whole story out of it instead of just captions of the naughty bits. Tehe. LOL. Anyway, enjoy! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AND CRITISISM!!)

  Hiroshima and Michi returned late in the evening, having spent the whole of the afternoon touring the local area. Michi's attention was easily captivated by the various "American" things. She had lived in a small private community up in the Japanese mountains where traditional customs were held and the modernizations of the world had not yet crept in. The electronics and various automobiles fascinated her. It was almost as if she had been living under a rock her entire life. Of course Hiroshima was constantly amused by her tugging on his sleeve and pointing at one thing after another, even at some people. They drew many looks. Michi drew lots of stares and whispered comments. Well, in actuality they both did. It isn't everyday that people see individuals dressed in full traditional Japanese clothing.

  The only thing Michi didn't like about their outing was when this bubbly teenage girl approached Hiroshima. This girl looked to be half American and half Japanese and was practically naked. She was wearing a belly tube top and shorts that stopped right below the cheeks of her bottom. To make matters worse she was all over Hiroshima, telling him how cute he looked in his Japanese clothes and pulling on his arm, and smiling in his face. Hiroshima was polite but it was clear that he would have rather been somewhere else. Michi didn't understand the words that were exchanged but she didn't like how the girl was grabbing over her husband and making eyes at him. She even shot the girl a couple of looks that went ignored. That was the only thing that made her day a little less pleasant, she didn't mind the stares and the whispers and the smiles and the waves.

  It was after 9:00 p.m. when they returned home. They had dinner at a small Japanese owned restaurant in town. The culinary display was quite entertaining to her. Today they were "all" Japanese.

  They entered the house and slipped their shoes off by the front door. It was such a habit for her. Hiroshima didn't bother to comment on the unnecessariness of it but followed suit. He took her hand and led her to his room. Once they entered he crossed the space and turned on the lamp that rested on the dresser by the down turned photograph. He picked the picture up and slipped it into a drawer without saying anything. Michi was curious as to what it was but she didn't ask. She stood behind him, quietly, with her head slightly bent down, her hands cupped in front of her. It was almost as if there was a chemistry to them. Words weren't needed. Actions were the only language that was understood. He left the room and she followed him to a bathroom that she had not entered before. Light seemed to bounce off the tiled floor. He opened one of the drawers to the dresser that rested against one wall and presented her with a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a washing cloth and a bar of soap that smelled like lavendar. He kissed her cheek and left her.

  Hiroshima returned to his room and began to undress. The evening had been an enjoyable one, after he forced himself not to care about what he was dressed in and how it must have looked. It was almost as if he couldn't remember the last time he had "been out on the town" with someone. Sure he dinned at places and took himself to the movies and hung out with friends, but as far as being with a woman he cared about, no. He did very little dating after Rosanna died. He stayed to himself and eventually moved from where they lived. It wasn't that he couldn't stand the environment or the old faces and familiar places, it was just that it broke his heart a little more to have to see it everyday and not have her with him. He had also lost his only son. Her parents did all they could to comfort him. Death was a part of life. While it was sad, it was simply one of those things in which a person had to accept the bad along with the good. There could not be one without the other. He understood this but it weighed so heavily on his heart that after a few months he was hardly the same person.

  Of course their deaths changed him. The death of a loved one probably changed everybody but he took it especially hard. He lost his appetite, his interest in everything, and his mental state changed. He could not sleep, he would not eat, it was nearly too much to ask him to awaken in the mornings. He lost his job, he lost 30 pounds, leaving him frail, pale and knocking at Death's door. Finally her parents could take no more of it. After keeping him in a hospital for some time to recover they agreed it would be best for him to go. While it was like losing another one of their beloved childeren, they wanted the best for him. He returned to Japan and remained there for a year. While each day was harder, each day was better. He regained his health and the black cloud that had become his life was gradually removed. He was almost complete again. His parents determined that it would be a good idea for him to consider finding another wife. For a while he was close minded towards this idea and was fearful of lose again. His parents did not mention it to him anymoe and stated that he should get on with his life.

  He returned to the States after his year in his homeland and found another place to live. He chose a small town where it would be easier to make new friends and not be haunted by his dreadful past one and a half years of living. He dated a little, but then he stopped trying. He lived his life with a singular mindset. While he was not reaching out, he was neither pushing away. He had friends over, he went to social events and parties. He was gradually surrounding himself by people who loved him and could help him keep his spirits up. In the meantime, the Ijiros were fufilling their self-given commission of finding a wife for their son. They began to search far and wide through a social network of people who believed in holding on to their traditional customs and ways of thinking. They came across the Fujikus. Michi was 18-years-old and was coming into her own. While she had a local crush she was willing to let it fall by the wayside when she began to learn about Hiroshima. His family provided them with as much information about him that they could. They told them childhood stories, about his qualities, the things he had done for people, his likes and his dislikes. They told all except the part of his life that had brought him to this point:  the death of his son and wife.

  She spent time with his family, and over time she developed a love for him. He was the ideal person in her eyes. He was gentle, funny, out-going, smart, adventourous, and caring. She longed to meet him in person, but both families determined that she should wait. They came to her so early so that the families could be joined and come to an understanding and relationship. Michi was only eighteen and was still a little too young to be given in marriage.

  Meanwhile, the idea of an arranged marriage was buried under all of Hiroshima's thoughts. It had been thrown in the closet with the other ideas that probably wouldn't amount to anything. It nearly floored him when he got the call. His mother told him that they were ready to complete their arrangement. He sat on his couch for an hour with his mouth partially hung open while she spoke at length about his new wife-to-be. She was 22-years-old, outgoing, kind, caring, gentle, patient, submissive, and eager to meet him. While she had learned everything she could about him he knew nothing about her. His mother said that all the important issues were taken care of and that it would be good for him to learn her, that way his marriage would grow stronger. Hiroshima had never really been in favor of an arranged marriage. He wanted to know what he was getting himself innvolved with before it happened. He decided to face the situation like a man and carried through the way he had agreed to. Documents were sent back and forth oversees and they were legally married in both the United States of America and Japan.

  Hiroshima received a picture of her so he would atleast know what she looked like. She was sent to him by plane along with a companion who would only be with her until he arrived. She was shocked when she saw him. The airport management had been kind enough to allow her to rest in a small office until he arrived. When he walked through the door she was surprised. Before her stood a man in his late twenties, early thirites with black combed back hair, a very somber, almost grim expression, and dressed in tennis shoes, blue jeans, a logo T-shirt, and a black hooded jacket. He looked different from his picture, less, what was the word? Nice. He looked serious and a little annoyed.

  She looked just the way she did in her picture only better. He could see all of her personalities just by looking at her. She sat in front of him with a slightly surprised yet patient look on her face. Some words were exchanged to the companion and then goodbyes had to be said. Michi was apprehensive and nervous. She was about to walk out and leave her family and friends behind. She put on a brave face and went with him. After an hour ride or so with her half sleeping in the backseat they arrived to his home. He didn't speak to her, he didn't help her with her things, and she was left clueless and alone.

  While she was thinking that he was making arrangements to get rid of her he was thinking about how he was going to do this. In a way he was starting over. He knew that's what he was doing and it wasn't a surprise, but it was almost as if he didn't actually expect it to happen. It was almost as if the promise his parents made to him three and a half years before had actually been something that his imagination had conjured up or that he had dreamt. But now it was done. The deed had been committeed. They were married and he had to suck up and get on with his life. He mauled over getting his attitude together while he stood in the kitchen and prepared a meal for them. He would have to let the old Hiroshima return and get rid of the glum Hiroshima that was trying to reappear. That is why he went in to her. That is why he made violent love to her with his fingers. That is why that morning he came in and appeared to be a different person. He had to prove to himself that he could do it again. He had to prove to her that the first impression that he had given was not the real him. He had to prove that when she had died that he hadn't died as well.

  Hiroshima stepped into his pajama bottoms and slipped a tank top on. He went to his restroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face and headed to Michi's room. She was sitting on the little wooden bench, brushing her straight black hair. Before it had the chance to cascade down her back she flipped it over her hand and brushed it again. She turned towards the door when she heard it open. Hiroshima stood there for a few seconds, dressed in his pajamas, looking back at her. She quickly rose to her feet. “Is there something you would like for me to do for you, Hiroshima?” She asked, quietly, but too quickly, still holding the brush. While she asked him as calmly as she could her pulse had immediately jumped up the moment she heard the door open. Her heart slammed into her ribs, threatening to come out of her chest. She was surprised by her severe reaction.

  “No, I just came to wish you a goodnight.” He said softly. ‘Is that really all?’ She questioned within herself. She truly would be disappointed if it was. How could he only wish to say goodnight?

  “Oh, ok. Goodnight Hiroshima.” She slightly lowered her head. Was that disappointment he saw?

  “Goodnight Michi.” He paused slightly, as if he wanted to say more. It was only for the briefest of seconds. He seemed to have made up his mind and began to leave.

  “Hiroshima, wait.” His eyebrows arched up and he stuck his head back in the door. “Must you really leave me so soon?” He was a little surprised at her question and stood there for a moment more, trying to determine exactly what she was seeking. What would his response be? She felt as if he was ignoring her though only a very brief amount of time had passed. ‘Please Hiroshima! Please stay!’, she screamed inside her head. He looked at her. What was her motive? She stood by the table with a very calm expression that looked oddly challenging at the same time. After what felt like forever he gave his nonverbal response and shut the door behind him. He knew what she wanted. She didn’t even have to say if for him to sense it. It was like there was an energy that pervaded the room.

  He crossed to her and kissed her. It was a full sweet kiss, a full lip lock. She let out a moan and wrapped her graceful fingers around the strong wrist that led to the hand that cupped her face, setting the brush down. She let out a murmur and let the feelings of sensuality bloom within and slowly consume her. This attention wasn't exactly what she was expecting, she just hoped to spend a little more time with him, looking at him, amazed that they were actually together after such a long period of waiting.

  Hiroshima pressed and she leaned back into the table, bracing her hand on it. His lips moved from hers to her cheek and down her neck in gentle caresses that set her aflame. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back, welcoming him. It was as if her shyness had disappeared and all she wanted was more. She was giving every indication that she wanted more, letting out tiny sounds that sent shivers down his spine. He had given her a taste of love and now she craved. Her body knew and she longed. Though it had only been that very morning that they had completely consummated their marriage somehow it felt as if it had been so long ago. She felt his hands move to her waist, to the koshihimo that held her yukata closed. She silently begged that he would open it and touch her there again, make her mind fall away. Instead, one of his hands held her waist and the other gathered her yukata from the hem.

  He pressed her more until she was forced to sit on the table. Separating the overlapping fabric and traveling upward his right hand found the curve of her hip and buttocks. He caressed her there, returning to kiss her lips. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue out until the tip came in contact with his upper lip. His lips closed over the pink tip and gently drew it further into this mouth. Circling first before retreating he let her dominate the kiss. She stroked the back of his neck and kissed at him with a silent fury. He was surprised by her need. This woman was beyond aroused, she was hungry. She drew him closer to her and arched her body so that they touched. Her leg wrapped behind his and held him captive, while her hands groped over his covered chest. She wanted to feel his delicious, soft skin beneath her silky, sensitive fingertips. He pulled her a little closer until their groins met.

  She could feel his hardness through the thin garment. Nothing seperated them except the cotton that wraped around his waist. He ground her against him with a languid, sensual rhythm, slowly thrusting his tongue in her mouth, holding her hard to him. She worked a hand in between them and untied her koshihimo. She showed no hesitation. The Michi from yesterday desired to disappear. He pulled it free from her and took both of her hands, pulling them behind her back. Once there he secured her wrists with the long tie, then slowly spread the brightly colored fabric, exposing her bare breasts. Her nipples grew even harder when the fabric brushed against them.

  He lowered his head and kissed her collarbone, his black hair brushing against her face and neck. He smoothed his hands down her sides and lowered his head further, kissing the upper swell of her breast before slowly drawing her swollen peak into his mouth with his tongue. This was torture. Why did he want to torture her? What pleasure did it bring him? Why wouldn’t he just give her what she wanted now?

  She gave a little moan and leaned forward as if to capture his head in her hands, only to be reminded that her arms were tied behind her back. She silently wondered if that would pose a problem. He gently pulled the tip, retreating and then approaching until she filled his mouth again and again. She moaned louder and arched her back as he withdrew. “Ah, you like that? You want more of that?” He questioned, not really hoping for a response, though she gave one anyway. He dropped his head further down and kissed the underside of her breasts. He lowered his body onto the bench that had remained in front of the table. Momentairly he paused and looked up into her face. She looked back at him, her lids nearly shut, her lips parted, her faced deeply flushed. He watched her as he slid his hands down her inner thighs, knees, and spread her legs from the inside. Goosebumps appeared on her skin.

  His fingertips danced up the moist skin of her inner thighs. He again leaned forward and this time his kiss landed on her belly, feeling her tremble beneath his touch. He went further, his tongue coming out and tracing a wet circle around her naval. Her skin was supple and smooth. Further he went, into the little dip in her tummy and onward. “Hi, Hiroshima, you, you aren’t going to. . . .Are you going to . . . please don’t.” She said faintly, unable to find the proper words to complete her question. Each time he lifted his tongue from her skin and replaced it he went lower. Upon arriving at her womanhood, he spread her with his thumbs, parting her symmetrical folds, feeling her wetness. She gave a little murmur that sounded like frustration. She wasn't expecting this, this was nothing like this morning. It nearly undid her to watch him close his lips around her, drawing her swollen wings into his mouth. She was shocked beyond reason and gasped, her body tensing up. “Hiroshima! D-don’t do that!”

  “Why not?” He questioned, amused by her reaction. His head remained down.

  “What if it makes you sick?”

  “Well, what if it makes me happy?” He questioned. As she was about to answer he made a figure eight with his tongue at the top of her inner lips, pressing down..

  “Ah! . . . Oh, oh, Hiroshima,” she crooned, wishing desperately that her hands were free. She didn’t know what she would do if they were. Would she push him away or hold him closer? He managed to open her with his tongue and slowly worked his way closer to her now throbbing point of desire. He touched it as gently as he could. She shifted from the agitation that pleasure sometimes bring, closing her legs a little.

  “Come on baby, let me make you more comfortable,” he said, gathering her in his arms, as if she weighed only fifty pounds. He lowered her onto the futon and then went down beside her.

  “Hiroshima, are you sure this isn’t unhealthy for you?” She questioned as he pulled her legs over his while he sat cross-legged in front of her.

  “Yes, it’s fine,” he muttered, lifting her bum with his hands and dropping his head. He inhaled her scent, letting out a little sigh of air, expressing his desire. Why was it so easy to make it so difficult to maintain control? If he could have eaten her like a man that hadn’t had food in days he would have. Be he could not behave so roughly with an inexperienced woman, could he? He took one of his gentle hands and with his fingertip he fingered her opening. “You’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice raspy and his own arousal growing. He looked down at her. Her back was arched awkwardly where she lay on her hands. He snickered. Why hadn’t she commented at the fact? He didn’t want to tear himself away from her but he did.

  She lay there trembling, her flushed face turned to one side, her almond deep brown eyes partially opened. Her hair lay in a messy pool around her head. Guess all that brushing was being undone. Soft whimpers issued from her, almost uncontrollably. He asked her to raise a little more and untied the simple knot that held her bound. She was then freed from her prison as well as the crushed yukata that she lay on. She placed her right hand over her left breast and felt her heart.

  “It’s beating so fast,” she said softly, almost absently.

  “I’ll make it beat even faster.” He commented, taking her into his mouth again and exploring her slowly, sucking her lips and caressing the whole of her with the flat of his tongue. She gave a groan as if she was fighting the desire give in to sin. He then took only one of his fingers and eased it into her, figuering that she was probably still sore from that morning. She began to writhe beneath him. The pleasure was agonizing. He gently combed the insides of her with his finger while applying light suction to her left inner labia, his tongue caressing up and down over the smooth skin. Suddenly she flinched. A whole new sensation opened to her. It felt like he was pressing the depth of her insides, as if he was pressing her abdomen through her inner cavity. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever known.  He gave a little smile; he found what he was searching for. He began to stroke her rather viciously with his finger, barely moving it from its current deepness.

  He slowly whipped her swollen bead, gaining a little speed. His left hand panned her belly, feeling her breathe. Michi lay somewhat beneath him, her lower body elevated by resting on top of his folded legs. One hand held the bed covers while the other's knuckles were bitten. A sheen of sweat covered her face and neck. Spasms overtook her as he began to assault her tender nipples. She arched on the bed, crying out to him.

  “Oh Hiroshima! Ahhh. Oh please, please don’t stop.” She pleaded. “It feels so good, it feels so, oh.” Her moans were completely unrestrained and she rocked her body, nearing her peak. He removed his mouth from her, breathing hard through open lips, taking in her expression. Her face was drawn by pleasure. Her breasts wobbling with her responsive movements. After a few moments of watching and feeling his male member turn into a painful throbbing rock he leaned forward, pressing her spread legs back towards her chest. He pressed gently, his hand braced below her knee, holding her leg back while he continued to strok her. He captured one of her swollen buds with his mouth.

  She was near hysteria in her ecstasy, thrashing as well as she could though she was rendered inmobile. She wove her fingers through his hair and without warning, tugged on it. Tinges of pain shot down Hiroshima’s spine, starting at his scalp. Something like a strangled yelp came from his throat. He sat back up, so he was free from another possible attack from her grasping hands.

  An unbearable coil was building within her. She could feel it in the deepest parts of her soul. Her crest was very, very near, so close that she was beginning to ride it. Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to urinate. Hiroshima saw the worry in her now open eyes and he began to ask ‘what’s wrong?’

  “Hiroshi, I, I think I have to go to the bathroom.”

  His face contorted with puzzlement. “What?”

  “Hiroshima, please, please stop for a moment, I have to, I have to. I don’t want to . . . embarrass myself.” She whimpered, fighting the electricity that ran through her.

  He tried to hold back his laughter and lowered his face back to her womanhood, chuckling, and said, “Relax, just relax baby.”

  Just relax, she heard him say again. “Trust me.” She felt his hot mouth on her flesh again and instantly she came.  She needed no more coaxing. She forced herself to relax, to ride the wave. He quickly replaced his mouth with his fingers and watched her face pull with extreme concentration. Something like a bright explosion happened behind her eyes and she felt this warm wetness gush from her body. She could comprehend nothing at the moment. In that instant her world fell away and the sensations ran through her entire being, from her face to her fingertips and down to her toes. Something happened that she didn’t know and couldn’t explain.

  She gushed. The fluid mingled with her body’s natural lubrication and dripped over his hand. Hiroshima took in her reaction. He could tell that it was unbearably good, that she wanted to come outside of herself. He could see too that she didn’t know how to respond. It was sensory overload. She had thought there was nothing more just the night before, but how wrong she had been. The tide would not stop. She couldn’t stay above it. It covered her and she disappeared. She fainted. A feeling of victory and triumph surged through Hiroshima. He had given her a truly mind-blowing experience. He breathed hard, pleased and feeling intensity like no other in his loins. He didn’t care that her orgasmic fluid had littered his face. In fact, he was quite pleased.

  She came to a minute later, her whole being weak as if she had been swimming against the ocean. “Hiroshima, did I . . . I’m sorry.” She turned her face away.

  “Michi, please don’t cry,” he said quickly, yet gently at the same time.

  She looked back at him, breathlessly.

  “It’s okay. I tend to have that affect on women.” He burst out laughing. “No! I’m just kidding. Well, I’m glad it pleased you so.” He slid his body from beneath hers.

  “What about you?” She questioned. His desire was quite evident.

  “I can take care of me,” he said with a less than reassuring smile on his face.

  “But I want to take care of you,” she retorted, sitting up, barely acknowledging the mess that she had created on the bed covers. She rose to her knees in front of him and kissed him. “Don’t you want me to please you?” She asked, pressing a trembly hand to his chest, pushing him down. Her hand found its way down into the front of his pants and ran over his swollen length. He groaned, closing his eyes. “Please, don’t torture me like this. You, you don’t know what you do.” He said, breathing unevenly, grabing at her hand. Her light touching was going to drive him mad. She kissed his face and moved to his testes, pulling at his waistband with her other feeble finges. She wanted to help him. He looked so pitiful trying to maintain his splintering composure. She massaged his frenum, and finally succeed in exposing his rigid flesh. Without hesitation she took him into her mouth, wishing she knew how better to handle the girth, trying to figure out how to please him. How to make him feel the way she felt. She began to retreat and felt his palm cup her head and bring her back down. He motioned her head a little and whispered for her to pull harder and slide back. She obeyed his command, pulling as well as she could, her hot mouth a molten glove. She unleashed him to the air for a moment before caressing his glans with her gentle pink tongue, moaning with him, her fingers reaching to cup his jewels. He whimpered quietly, arching beneath her, his hand falling from her head to brace himself. After a few minutes of enduring torturous pleasure he told her to straddle him; he wasn't going to be satisfied until he was inside of her. He tried to guide himself into her with a hand that trembled violently. His body ached, his rigid flesh throbbing, darkened by blood.

  "Hiroshima, let me," she said, so eager to please. She took him into her small untrained hand and directed him into her body. She let him slowly fill her, inch by inch, until all of him was in.

  "Oh Michi, oh, sweet, sweet Michi," he crooned, beginning to move feriously beneath her, forcing her to ride. She did her best to keep up with his rhythm. He held onto her hips and then her bottom, feeling her move with him, against him.

  An all consumeing sensation of happiness came upon him. The rising happiness was nearly enough to send him over the edge. He breathed hard and through his nose, little grunts escaping him. Was he trying to hold back? Why? She hadn't held back at all, had she? Hiroshima's mind and eyes were fixed on two things:  how amazingly beautiful Michi was, her face slightly contorted with pain and pleasure combined, and how hot, tight, soft, and wet her body was. He could feel her body contracting around him and it sent little ribbons of heat and pleasure through his male members. He also enjoyed looking at her round, firm breasts bounce in time to his rather wild bucking. This was one bumpy ride that was to end very soon. Hiroshima began to feel the familiar tingling that always came before his orgasm. It began in his rigid flesh and penetrated deep to a place in his abdomen that he couldn't name.

  The tingle built into a coil that compressed and compressed until it began to vibrate within the depths of him. His breath quickened even more, and little moans came through his clenched teeth. She leaned forward, weak with pleasure, laying her weight on his chest, whimpering in both delight and protest. Her hard nipples bore little holes into his skin.

  "Hiroshima," she said, her voice thin. "I can't. I can't do anymore. . . You're taking everything out of me."

  He gave a little laugh. And then oh! He came. He nearly ceased movement and just held her hard on him, emptying his entire self into her secret cavity. His mouth was open and out came an "ah" that was carried on the air. Nerve endings shattered in him body and for a moment his reality slipped away. After a minute of deep breathing he asked Michi to look at him. "Michi, look at me."

  She raised her head, her waterfall of hair lifting from his chest and shoulder. Her face reflected her expense. She looked energy-depleated, but happiness glistened in her half open eyes. A little smile graced her face, lifting the corners of her lips which she breathed through quickly. His face looked the same, sweat droplets on his forehead. He kissed her nose and whispered his appreciation to her. A moment after, he slowly rolled so that they were on their sides, still joined together. A stiffled yawn came from both of them almost symontaniously. They both laughed at the fact, completely happy with each other.

  "Hiroshima, are we, do we do this every night?" She whispered to him, looking at her hand that rested on his chest. Suddenly her shyess reappeared.

  His eyes widened in surprise. "Only if that is what you wish, my little flower." He replied, kissing her forehead. He slowly shifted and withdrew himself from her and rose. He wasn't going to leave her, was he? She suddenly felt deserted. He crossed the room, turned the light off and then returned to her side. He curved his body around her and laced his fingers with hers. He knew sleep would find them soon.

  "I love you Hiroshima."

  "愛しています。" He whispered against her ear, closing his eyes. "I love you too."