How Cara Learned to Stop Worrying Ch. 04

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phlight
phlight
23 Followers

I laughed, but she could tell that I was uncomfortable and ended the call after congratulating me again. She also gave me a tip about her mother.

"My haha, Mom, she means well. Her family is her entire world. She really loves Keiji no matter what she says."

Now I was worried for sure.

***

"Seriously, you have to relax. There's no point driving yourself crazy trying to impress them. Dad will be okay but he'll just go along with whatever Mom says, and she's going to say the same old judgmental shit that she always does. Look, she's my mom, I love her, but we haven't been close for a long time. She lived in Japan for 20 years and she's very traditional. Everything there is better than here -- the people, the food, the clothes, the shops, the TV shows. Everything! I grew up hearing this my whole life. If you ask her why she's here she'll roll her eyes and say she had no choice, but has she ever given me a real answer? No. She's bitter and angry and kind of mean. The only person I think she likes these days is Hana."

Keiji and I leaned against a wall at the train station as we waited for our boarding time. He kept putting his fingers to his mouth and then dropping his hand with a disgusted expression. At first I couldn't figure it out, but then it dawned on me.

"Keiji Nakamura, are you an ex-smoker?"

He shook his head in a "no" gesture, but his rueful smile told me he meant "yes."

"I never should've quit. How am I supposed to visit my parents without some sort of drug in my system?" he said, gesturing dramatically. I could tell he was laying it on thick for my benefit, but there was a kernel of truth in his jest.

"I just. Look. I've never dated an Asian guy before. I've had Asian friends but never went to their homes to meet their parents. I have no clue. What if I do something wrong?" I asked for about the tenth time.

"There's no point, I said. You're going to do something wrong. Just take your shoes off once we're inside the door, call her Okaasan and call him Stan, and eat whatever she cooks for you. That's the best you can do. Oh yeah, mention your job and that you make a lot of money." He rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you're so racist," I said, nudging his side with my elbow. "And I don't make that much money."

"Hey, you're doing way better than me. It's not racist, it's just...status is so important. Your place in society is everything. In Japan it's all who you are, who you know. I'm not making any value judgments even though it drives me up the fucking wall when I hear her on the phone with my aunts and uncles and she's talking about me like I'm Warhol or Picasso or Pollock or somebody just to make her sound big. Ohhh, Keiji-kun had a show in the city! He sold so many paintings! Then she hangs up the phone and tells me that over there I'm shit and my dad's shit and it drives her crazy and why don't I get a real job. I think she hates her life. And she hates it even more that I don't care about any of that crap."

Again he raised his fingers to his mouth. "Fuck," he muttered, dropping his hand and shaking the fingers.

"Sounds like you need to," I said, amused in spite of his scary (okay, absolutely terrifying) rants about his mother. I couldn't help myself. It had been over a week since the laundry room quickie and my hormones were going crazy with the pregnancy. I had been masturbating every day, some days several times (even sneaking down to the parking garage during my lunch break to relieve myself). Self-love just wasn't cutting it. I was dying to touch him and I had a surprise that I was eager to reveal.

My joke seemed to relax him. His shoulders dropped from their hunch and he stopped moving his fingers. He closed his eyes with a smile, entering a more pleasant train of thought.

"What are you thinking about?" I prodded. He kept his eyes closed but stopped smiling. He bit his lower lip somewhat fiercely before releasing it to answer me.

"Mm. Your ass."

I laughed, blushing even though I had started us down this path. He opened his eyes and looked at me, first at my face but then blatantly examining my body from head to toe. I had dressed to impress in a black miniskirt. I tried to downplay the sex factor (keeping his parents in mind) by adding opaque black tights and a loose V-neck sweater that hid the beginnings of my belly, but I knew that skirt made me look good. His smile was still gone.

"Why so serious, Keiji?" I said, grabbing his hand.

"You shouldn't laugh," he said in a low, burning voice. "In fact, I have the strong compulsion to take you into that ladies' room over there and show you how serious I am about fucking you senseless." He tilted his head at a bathroom across the mezzanine from us.

"In a public restroom?" I asked, putting a note of disgust in my voice even though his words made my nipples stiffen.

"I am beyond caring about the finer points of hygiene, Cara. Besides, remember that discussion we had about whatever-within-reason? If we don't do something today I might pull that card way sooner than I thought. I've been standing here next to you like a statue for twenty minutes and you're wearing that little skirt, you look incredible, and we haven't seen each other since, what, before last week? I think the way I'm feeling right now is pretty reasonable."

I was about to reply that I agreed with him when we heard the rumble of an approaching train.

"Well, I think that's us," I said, half-sorry and half-relieved to be interrupted. He rubbed his face, sighed, and stooped to pick up his bags. When I reached for my suitcase he stopped me.

"No, no, I've got it. Just keep your purse."

"My, one moment a lech and the next a gentleman," I teased.

"You're pregnant, so you deserve a little assistance. And you just keep laughing it up. You'll get what's coming to you."

"We can only hope," I said, walking toward the train platform. I felt his eyes on me as he followed with the luggage and smiled to myself.

We were taking a mid-day mid-week train, so when we boarded we found ourselves in a nearly empty car. Half the seats in the car faced the front and the other half faced back, with a row in the middle meeting over plastic tables. A suited man had already taken the spot nearest the bathroom (I silently cursed him in the name of all pregnant women) in a seat facing the front, so I chose a pair of seats near the front of the car that faced the back. We'd be riding backwards but I figured we'd have a bit more privacy. Keiji lifted our things into the overhead compartments and then swung himself into the seat nearest the window. We'd decided earlier I would be on the aisle in case I had to make an emergency dash to the bathroom.

I sat down and busied myself with pulling out my Kindle, my mp3 player, and arranging my ticket in the little spot on the seat back in front of me. I started to put down the arm rest between us but stopped when I realized Keiji hadn't done more than put his ticket up and then lounge back in his seat a bit. Yes, I was being watched.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Really? You're really going to read? Listen to a few tunes? Maybe catch some Zs?" he whispered.

"Sure. Isn't that what most people do on a train?"

"Maybe. But I don't think I'm most people right now. I think I'm probably the horniest person alive," he stated, giving me a hard stare before shifting his eyes to my body. I looked at his lap and confirmed that he was telling the truth. I shifted in my seat, feeling my pussy respond in kind. I couldn't help teasing him a bit more, though. He was really cute when he had a raging hard-on.

"I don't know about that. There are probably a few teenagers out there who could give you a run for your money."

"Cara. Take off your shoes and hose," he said, his voice small and level. He sounded like an instruction manual.

"Please?" I prompted. He just looked at me, waiting. I wondered what had happened to the guy who asked my permission before he'd entered me for the first time. Maybe that was a one time only courtesy or something.

I shrugged, trying to act more nonchalant than I felt. I couldn't wait to see his reaction once I complied. I bent down and unzipped the short zips on the sides of my ankle boots, then pulled my feet out of them. I flexed my toes, liking the look of my feet in the tights, then pushed the boots under my seat. Now for the fun part. I reached under my skirt from the bottom, taking care not to push it up or reveal more leg than necessary, and grasped the top edge of my tights. I lifted my butt off the seat to get them over the hump, so to speak.

Just as I sat back down the train began to move. I caught Keiji's eye (understandably, he was looking elsewhere most of the time) and smiled. I wondered if he could see how nervous I was and guessed he was well aware. He didn't need to hear another one of my, "I've never done this before" stories.

"When are they going to walk through to check tickets?" I whispered. He just shook his head and rolled his index finger in a circular motion. Come on, come on. I began pulling the tights down again, sliding them down my thighs at a somewhat leisurely pace. After I slipped them over my knees I made short work of the task and whisked them off my feet. I balled them up and shoved them into the seat pocket in front of me. The thin carpet of the train floor felt cold under my bare feet.

"That's a little better," he said, reaching over to stroke my exposed thighs, first one and then the other.

"I guess you're right," I replied, watching his hands on me. This felt familiar. Small waves of excitement washed over me as I anticipated what he might do next.

"Hm. You know what else I want to see?"

Without giving me a chance to respond, he lifted the bottom of my sweater up, exposing the new curve of my lower belly. It was big enough at this point that the waistband of my skirt was distorted into a slight smile shape below it. With Evan I hadn't shown for several months, but this baby was out and proud with eight months growing time ahead of us. Keiji pushed down on the skirt, further accentuating my belly.

"Now I feel like a Buddha figurine," I protested, but didn't make a move to pull my shirt down. I wanted him to see what I looked like now.

"Relax, you're way hotter than Buddha," he said, softly tracing the curved shape of my tummy with one hand and returning his other hand to one of my legs, where he wasted no time slipping it under my skirt. I held my breath as I felt his fingers move up the inside of my leg until they rested lightly on the delicate skin between my thigh and my labia.

"Something is different," he declared, an incredulous look on his face. His fingers stroked lightly up and down. "Did you--?"

"I thought I deserved a trip to the spa yesterday. Work has been crazy and I've been feeling like death warmed over most of the time," I said, wiggling my hips forward a bit in an effort to get more contact with his hand.

"Oh man. This I gotta see," he said, taking his other hand off my belly so that he could pull up my skirt.

"Hey!" I stage-whispered.

"You can't tell me that and expect me not to look! What, am I supposed to take an upskirt picture and go to the bathroom to admire it?" he whispered back.

I hadn't made a move to stop him in spite of my verbal protest, so once again I found myself sitting next to him with my skirt bunched around my hips. This time, though, we weren't in a dark auditorium. It was full daylight and I was on a train where a railway employee or other passenger could enter the car at any moment. This person would see me sitting there with my pregnant belly out and my completely bare pussy on full display. Getting the Brazilian wax had been thrilling (not to mention eye-wateringly painful) and left me feeling naked in a delightfully wicked way, but I didn't expect to be this exposed.

He gave a low whistle, his eyebrows raised as he took in the view.

"Holy shit, Cara. My dick is going to explode," he said, and gave a short, stunned laugh.

"I will etch that compliment on my heart forever," I replied, still not trying to cover up. Truth was, I was enjoying myself. Immensely. I decided to stop worrying about being naked on a train and roll with it, so to speak. Lowering my voice to just above a whisper, I continued. "Would you like me to help you out with your, um, explosive device?" He was wearing jeans again, so things were more or less contained, but I could tell conditions were cramped.

He nodded. I leaned toward him, putting one of his hands between my legs, and kissed him softly, slipping just the tip of my tongue in between his lips before I broke contact. His fingers began to explore the super soft, super sensitive skin revealed by the wax, just stroking and pressing on the outside of my pussy for the time being. I reached for his pants and undid the button.

"Oh my god," he sighed. "I want to rub my face all over it. You look beautiful."

"Mm, sounds nice. But let's save that for later," I suggested, pulling down his zipper. He nodded again and I felt his touches grow bolder. I looked down at myself for a second, watching as he ran his middle finger down my cleft, from top to bottom, ending with the tip at the entrance to my pussy. I felt the potential of that one finger and silently urged him to continue. At the same time I slipped my hand beneath the band of his tented underwear, where it immediately bumped into the head of his cock. I ignored this for a moment, opting instead to slide deeper down and run my fingers through his soft, straight pubic hair.

"I'll wax if you want me to," he said with a grin, turning his finger in a gentle circle but still not penetrating me.

"Yeah, sure you would. No, thanks, trimming is fine. Or whatever. I'm not a pube dictator," I said, slipping my hand around to cup his balls for a brief moment. Then I went back up to grip his cock at the base. "Do you mind if I jack you off? I haven't done that yet. Got any tissues or anything?"

"You're such a planner," he said, looking at the ceiling of the train and shaking his head. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"Worrying is my job," I said. He slipped his finger inside my pussy, meeting no resistance from my slick walls and eliciting a soft grunt from me.

"Stop," he said. "This isn't a job. Just enjoy yourself."

"I thought it was a--hand job," I gasped, my voice hitching as his index finger joined the middle one. He rotated his hand slightly so that his thumb would have access to my clit. He applied light pressure there and held it.

"Good point. Except you haven't actually started that yet. And one more thing," he said, reaching into the V of my sweater. "I have to see these, too. They look huge since the last time I saw you."

He was right; my breasts had ballooned from their diminuitive state into slightly swollen, hypersensitive D cups in just a couple of weeks. It almost hurt to touch them; I hissed a bit as he lifted them out of the cups of my bra one at a time. He stretched the edge of the V neck around them as much as possible, but they were still crammed together as they pushed out of the opening. My areolas were puffy and bigger than usual, their color deepened almost to a dark rose; the nipples were larger as well and got hard as I watched. From some outside-of-my-body objective view, I knew I must look completely, utterly lewd -- naked, pregnant, and obviously aroused, but naughtier still because of the clothes left covering the more boring parts of my body.

I felt Keiji's cock twitch under my hand, bringing me out of my reverie. He shifted his fingers slightly inside of me, almost as if he had forgotten they were there. My pussy, the finger cozy.

"Wow. Those are excellent," he said, looking awestruck. "Can I play with them or would you rather I didn't?"

"Be very gentle," I said, and began to stroke him up and down.

"I've never been with someone pregnant before," he admitted, swallowing reflexively as his body responded to my attention. "You're changing so fast. Do they stay like this?"

"For a little while after the baby's born they'll be even bigger. And then...no, they don't stay this way. So enjoy them. Gently!" I said, as he began to squeeze my right breast, feeling its new heft and density. And for what it was worth, I'd never whacked off a guy with foreskin, though I didn't say that to him. From what I could tell it was a bit easier than doing those without; my hand glided up and down his length easily and his skin was silky smooth. It also helped that he was already dribbling pre-cum all over himself. I ran my thumb onto the tip of his cock, taking a sizeable drop and spreading it down, over his frenulum and under the rim of the glans.

"Ohh, fuck. I don't think I'm going to be able to take this for very long," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"That's strange to hear, coming from you. You realize you've had your fingers up my pussy for the past few minutes, doing absolutely nothing? I don't mind being a visual aid but I'm feeling a little left out, here. Maybe you could distract yourself a little and work on me before you get all pruny."

He laughed with his eyes still closed, but he sat up straight and did his best to give me equal attention. He began to move his fingers in and out, my pussy making the delightful wet sucking noise beloved by finger-fuckers everywhere. I continued to stroke up and down on his cock; for a minute or so we established a rhythm, just enjoying each other.

I admit I had forgotten where we were; when he decided to up the intensity by bending over me and (gently!) sucking a nipple into his mouth I didn't bother to stifle my sounds of approval.

"Hey," he whispered, releasing my nipple and sitting up a bit. "That guy over there."

"Keiji, this was your idea. Now make me come, please. Don't make me beg," I said, pushing myself firmly onto his hand. He smirked, looking impressed at my boldness, and then grew serious as he paused to consider something. He slipped a third finger inside of me; the pressure was delicious. When he began to roll the pad of his thumb on my clit again I rested my hand on top of his wrist, my squeezes there telling him how good it felt.

I increased the speed of my passes up and down his cock, adding a squeeze at the base here, a gentle palming across the head there. He was slick and hot and I was somewhat tempted to call off my own gratification so that I could give him another blowjob, but in the name of experience I decided to stick with the original plan. Plus okay, yeah, I really wanted to come, and soon. Five minutes ago if possible.

He bent back down to my breasts and I shifted closer to give him better access. He alternated between nipples, sucking so lightly I almost couldn't tell he was there. Still, the sight of my breasts, jiggling slightly with the bumps of the train, wet and red and straining at the tips from his attention, was incredibly arousing. I felt myself get wetter and my pussy contracted once or twice -- both sure signs that I was getting very, very close.

"Harder," I said, just barely audible. He obliged me, quickening his thumb on my clit and deepening the thrusts of his fingers in my pussy. He stopped alternating between breasts to focus on my right nipple, giving it a few firm flicks with his tongue before taking it between the sharp edges of his teeth. The combination of slight pain/intense pleasure was all I needed to finish; I let go of his wrist and pressed my hand to my mouth. I managed to have my orgasm in silence, although my breathing would have betrayed me to an experienced listener. He sat up to watch me ride his hand, slowing the movements of his fingers gradually as I wound down.

When I was mostly still he pulled out of me and brought his wet fingers over to his cock, smearing my lube over himself just above my hand. I took the hint and began to move up and down again, adding in a slight twisting motion as I neared the head. My other hand reached down to massage his balls again; I knew he didn't have long because they were already high and tight, jumping at each touch. I rotated my hand so that my fingers covered his glans and used my thumb and the base of my hand to rub him firmly on the underside of his cock.

phlight
phlight
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