School in Japan

You were ecstatic as the plane touched down in the Tokyo airport. "Welcome to Japan..." the captain said in Japanese, of which you had a conversational level of mastery. You had hardly ever travelled out of your home state, and now you were half way across the globe in a foreign country.

You stared in amazement at the sea of black-haired people milling about the airport space. You quickly make your way through immigration, and at the arrival hall, spot a laminated card bearing your name.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Fukuda," you greeted the Japanese couple. You've spoken to them online before coming. Mr. Fukuda is a handsome man in his forties and he welcomes you with a polite bow and a beaming smile. Mrs. Fukuda was even more stunning than what she had seemed on your computer screen. Despite an age that must have been close to her husband's, she looked very youthful and had little to no wrinkles marring her stunning face. As if that wasn't enough, a pair of enormous bulges protruded from her chest, an extremely rare trait among the usually slim and petite Japanese.

"Welcome, John. How was the plane ride? Oh, you must be so tired after that long flight. Come, let us return to our home so you can rest."

A short car ride later, you arrive at the Fukuda residence. The house was a medium sized unit on the suburbs of Tokyo that was very neat and cozy.

"This will be your room, John," Mrs. Fukuda said while opening the door to a small guest room. You put down your luggage in a corner and stretch out, sore from sitting in the plane. Mrs. Fukuda was still there, smiling at you. You felt truly blessed to have such a gorgeous woman hosting your exchange program.

"Dinner will be ready shortly. Do you need anything? Maybe some tea? Or maybe a handjob?"

Your mind went blank at the last sentence. It really sounded like she was offering to jerk you off. That couldn't be possible. Too much Japanese porn had rotted your brain.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean? I'm sorry, my Japanese is lacking."

"Oh, no, your Japanese is very good! I was asking if you want me to help you masturbate to alleviate your yellow fever? Oh, if you want to do me instead, of course that's fine too!"

There was no doubting her meaning this time. Mrs. Fukuda even made a lewd gesture. You couldn't process this information. How did she even know you had yellow fever?

"Hahah, nice joke. Is there a camera somewhere?"

"Camera? What do you mean? Come now, don't be shy. I won't let it be said that the Fukuda family isn't hospitable!"

You were shocked when the woman kneeled down in front of you and unzipped your pants. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of your unwashed cock, but true to her word, she began to gently stroke it.

"How is it? Does it feel good?"

"Y-yes. It's amazing." You decided to stop thinking about the absurdity of the situation and enjoy it while it lasts. You were fully erect in a flash and Mrs. Fukuda's skillful fingers turns your knees to jelly. She lubricated her hand with some saliva and attacked your glans mercilessly, clearly intent on relieving you as fast as possible.

"Honey, where did you put the miso?" Mr. Fukuda appeared in the doorway, literally catching you pants down. Your blood curdles as you wonder how you were supposed to explain yourself.

"It's at the back of the fridge," his wife calmly replied. "Is that so?" The man said sheepishly, then left. A few moments later, he shouted, "Found it!"

What... The... Fuck...

Your bewilderment was soon interrupted by the approaching climax building in your loins. You warn Mrs. Fukuda of it, and she simply holds the tip of your cock in her mouth while she continued to stroke. The added stimulation from her tongue made you explode into her warm mouth, giving you the best orgasm of your life.

"You came so much!" Mrs. Fukuda opened her mouth to show you the mouthful of semen, then swallowed it all in one large gulp.

"Why don't you clean up while I check on dinner?"