Life of a Young Housewife

Disclaimer: If I give offense in my characterization of Japanese culture, I sincerely apologize.

Chapter 1: I Meet My Husband and His Father

I don't know why I'm writing this down. I want to tell my story but I should just tell it; I should speak my story, like one of the oral histories we are taught as children. Typing it on a laptop seems very dangerous. Stupid, maybe. I am many things but stupid is not one of them. No matter: I find I must write my story down, because the story needs to be told and I cannot find the strength within me to simply speak it out loud to you.

So, to the story:

I met my future husband at university. It was one of the better schools. I would write the name but I am afraid to in case this is read by others. Let's just call it "university." University is where I met the man who would become my husband.

What can I say about that time? We were both 19. We had worked so hard to be admitted and, after, the hard work never stopped. I studied hard and tried to not stand out in any way from the other girls who also were my classmates. I knew that the nail that sticks up gets hammered down. Perhaps I studied a bit harder than they did; perhaps I was a bit smarter than they were. I attributed my excellent marks to the fact that I didn't attend parties and I didn't date. Because of my lack of social activity, perhaps I was a bit different from the other girls. My thought at the time was that there wasn't time for any of those extra activities, even if I desired to take time away from studies--which I did not. I lived at the library, always studying. But when I wasn't studying, I was reading Western romance novels.

That was ironic because I was studying to be a scientist. Scientists are not known for interest in Western romance novels. I kept my interest to myself, reading only in a quiet corner of the university library--and then only after my studies had been completed for the day. Instead of watching television, I read.

Kenji--the boy who would become my husband--also studied, but not as hard as I did. He didn't have to. His father was a powerful CEO of a major keiretsu. No, I'm not going to write down which one on this paper, lest it be read by others. You may already know which one, because Kenji's father was known to many. For this story, I will say that Kenji's father was powerful; Kenji would have a job after graduation in one of his father's companies. That was a given. Thus, he needed only to study just hard enough to not dishonor his family. Which, to be clear, he did; he did study hard and received decent marks. He understood his obligations and willingly honored them. He was a good man. He still is a good man, as far as I know.

Kenji was also handsome and good-natured. He had a kind spirit and a beautiful smile. I liked him from the moment we first met at the library. He needed some quiet space to write a paper, and he chose a table that was near to where I was quietly reading Anne of Red Hair. We started to talk quietly. Eventually, I put down my book and he forgot his paper for a few minutes. Eventually, he invited me to share a coffee with him. I agreed and then he returned to his studies; I returned to my reading.

As I have said, I didn't date. But I made an exception for him. To this day, I don't understand why I did that. Perhaps I felt the stirrings of our future life together, that night in the university library. In any case, I agreed to a future date where we would share a coffee and continue our pleasant conversation.

After exams were over, we met at a café near a park and had coffee. He told me some stories of growing up. I didn't know then with certainty, but I quickly guessed his family was wealthy because of where they lived--Tokyo. As you know, a family must be wealthy to live there in the center of everything. I told him a little bit about myself, but not too much.

After the coffee, he asked "Are you hungry?" That's how kind and considerate Kenji was.

"Hai," I admitted, nodding slightly. I was hungry. I wanted also to continue our conversation. I enjoyed speaking with Kenji.

We shared some noodles and he walked me back to my room. He asked for my phone number and I gave it to him. That was our first date.

Our second date was two months later. We had coffee and noodles again. We spoke about our studies and what we might do after graduation. I thought it was a very good date.

After I was back in my room, he texted me. You looked very pretty tonight, he texted. That's how kind he was to me. He always gave me the nicest compliments.

We had a third date in the next semester. At the doorway to my room, he kissed me before he said goodnight, and I kissed him back a little bit. After that kiss, we understood we were now boyfriend and girlfriend. We had several more dates in the months after that night, but we did nothing that would interfere with our studies. We kissed at the end of each date, but nothing more than kissing. After all, we were only boyfriend and girlfriend at that point. More than kissing would not have been appropriate.

I find I must be honest here. In truth, sometimes we did more than kissing. When he desired, I let him touch my breasts. In my dorm room I took off my blouse and white bra for him. I enjoyed the look on his face as his fingers gently rubbed and pulled on my small nipples. I enjoyed the feeling of having his mouth and lips gently suck on my breasts and nipples. That is not all: three times during our months of dating, he grew red-faced and short of breath as he caressed me and sucked my breasts. On those three occasions, I unzipped his trousers and tugged on his penis until he shot his sticky white semen out in long spurts. Afterwards, I cleaned him. Then he kissed me passionately and gave me many compliments. Nothing else happened. That was enough for both of us.

After a year of dates, I met his parents and then I understood Kenji better. His father was confident, powerful, always wise. Kenji's father's spirit was very strong. He obviously loved his son as well as his wife--his son's mother. He gave them everything.

After that meeting, Kenji met my parents and they were very effusive in their praises of him. I suppose they despaired of me ever finding a husband--but now there was a boy in my life and we were serious. They loved Kenji, even if (at that point) they didn't know who his father was. They were happy for me, that I had found such a kind and caring man.

We continued to date steadily throughout the rest of our time at university. Eventually, graduation was near and Kenji asked me to marry him. At this point we were both 21 years of age. Before I said "hai" (yes) to his proposal we had a serious discussion about our future together. We agreed to postpone having children until he was settled in the corporate world. I would graduate with a rather prestigious science degree, but I would not work. Instead, I would make the home for him and--eventually--for our children. He would work hard and rise in his father's keiretsu. One day, he might have a high position; we could then afford to live in Tokyo. Until that time, he would have to commute to work, as so many do.

We agreed on our life plan so I agreed to marry Kenji. In many ways, that was the smartest decision I ever made. In other ways, though, the decision led to many sad points in my life.

To this day, I sometimes look back on that decision to marry Kenji. What if I said "ie"? (Which would have been very rude of me.) Or even "kekkou desu"? ("No, thank you.") What if we never met in the library? What if I graduated and found a job in a research lab and began my career at the proper age?

What would my life be like then?

There is no use thinking such thoughts. Life is a series of decisions. You must make the best decisions you can. Kenji loved me. In my heart, I believe he loves me still. And I still love him, even though I have made difficult decisions in my life that, if he ever learned of them, would cause him deep pain. This is life, though. You must do the best you can. This is the lesson I give to you: you must do the best you can, though you may (like me) make many mistakes along the path.

I have tried to do the best I can, though many I am sure would tell me I made bad decisions, bad mistakes, along my life's journey.

*****

On the night when we agreed to marry each other, we had sex for the first time. Until then, we had kissed in private but not too much more, except as I have said before. He had touched and sucked on my breasts and, three times, I tugged on his penis until he reached orgasm.

On the night of our engagement I gave him my body.

Neither of us were uneducated about sex. We both knew how sex happened, what to do. At least, we knew the theory of it. Experience was a bit different.

I knew it would hurt, so I was prepared for the pain. What I was not prepared for was how suddenly the penetration happened, and how quickly it finished.

Kenji's penis is handsome. It is long--almost six inches--and full, and sticks up at a nice angle. I was happy to let my future husband put his stiff penis into my body. He rubbed my labial lips first to help me be ready, and soon I was wet for him: ready for him to put his penis into my vagina. My legs opened widely and I guided him into me. There was a tug and some pain, but I was ready so I didn't make a sound when it happened. I wanted our first time to be good for him.

He paused, halfway in, looking at me to make sure I was not in too much pain. As I said, he is kind and considerate. I knew I was lucky to have found him. I nodded for him to continue, so he did. Soon he was fully inside me and he moved back and forth rapidly, moaning in pleasure. His moans made me happy, because I liked to give him pleasure.

I thought that maybe my own pleasure might come, as well. As he thrust back and forth, I felt something grow inside me, a tightness, a heaviness, a pressure. I started to pant in time to his thrusts.

But then he pushed into me one final time, grunted loudly and squirted towards my uterus. (I should mention that he wore a condom so no worries about getting pregnant. We weren't ready for that yet, as we had agreed to delay having children) He squirted into me for a long time. His thrusts had stopped, but his body continued to tremble and shake after he was finished. The after shakes continued for nearly a minute before he opened his eyes and kissed me with all the passion he had.

"Was that good for you?" he asked.

I nodded and smiled. "Hai," I replied. Because the sex had been good for me. He had felt powerful pleasure and I enjoyed helping him feel that way. The kisses afterwards had been very nice, as well.

That night, I had gotten engaged and given my fiancé great pleasure. That night was a good night. A very good night.

Other nights would not be so good as that one was.

*****

His parents nodded when we gave them the news. His father smiled and hugged me. His mother invited me to help her in the kitchen that night, while the men toasted each other with expensive whisky. We chatted about Kenji's favorite foods and how to prepare them. I felt welcomed.

My own parents were very happy for my match. By then, they knew about Kenji's father, so they knew we would never lack for anything. If Kenji didn't earn enough money for me and our children, his father would help out. That is what fathers did for sons--especially when those fathers were powerful CEOs.

Everything was going along fine until Kenji's mother died. She died three months before our wedding was to take place.

*****

After Kenji's mother died, his father became silent, withdrawn. His strong spirit seemed to have deserted him when she was no longer among the living. I tried to help him with the loss. I came to their apartment in Tokyo and cleaned. I cooked for him. I tried to be the wife he no longer had. Whatever I did was not enough. He would eat the food and nod--ever courteous. But that was all.

We continued to prepare for the wedding. Kenji and I had sex several more times. Each time was much like the first time. He would rub my labial lips until I nodded for him to put his erect penis into me. Then he would move back and forth quickly, moaning with pleasure. Then he would grunt and squirt. Afterwards we would kiss for a long time before I cleaned him and my body.

I was very happy.

I know many people would tell me that I should have felt more when I had sex with my fiancé. I should feel my own pressure build and then have an orgasm. What can I say about that time? At that time, I did not experience orgasms but I was not disappointed in my lack. Kenji was in all ways a good man, a kind man. He was a good husband. He enjoyed our sex very much. If I did not have the same enjoyment, I found myself proud of how much he enjoyed what we did. We were close and grew closer. I didn't need anything more than what we had.

Or so I thought.

As the wedding approached, Kenji's father seemed to awaken from his deep grief. He asked us questions about the wedding. When we had trouble with getting our venue to work with us on planning the reception, he solved that challenging problem with one phone call. The venue planner immediately apologized for her discourtesy and offered us a special discount on the bar. That was a nice thing for Kenji's father to have done.

I continued to visit the Tokyo apartment at least once a week, to clean and cook. The more I visited, the happier Kenji's father seemed to be. He even hugged me when I departed. I was so happy to help him move forward after his loss!

One day, shortly before the wedding, Kenji's father's secretary called me. "He wishes for you to visit him in his office," she said. As you must know, that was a great honor for me, that he would give me personal attention during his busy day.

I agreed and an appointment was made. Two days later I dressed in my best clothes and took the train to Tokyo to visit the office of the CEO--the man who soon would be my father-in-law.

His secretary was beautiful, perhaps four or five years older than I was. She dressed very well. I felt poorly dressed compared to her, even though I was wearing my best blouse and skirt; but I tried not to let my shame show. She in turn was very nice to me, bringing me tea while I waited in the anteroom for Kenji's father to finish his important business so that he could make time for me, his soon-to-be daughter-in-law. While I waited, phones rang and people hurried through the corridor. Some glanced at me with curiosity; others ignored me. I was not only impressed with the energy of the corporation, but I was also humbled by the knowledge that Kenji's father was making time for me, as if I was important to him. I told myself to remember this moment in time, when I was treated as being important, and to express appropriate gratitude.

Finally, the door opened and I saw Kenji's father. He greeted me with a slight bow, which of course I returned with all respect. Then he led me into his office, telling his secretary to make sure we were not interrupted for any reason.

His office was immense, as befitted a man of his stature. I looked around in awe. There were two couches and several low tables surrounded by chairs. The carpet was plush, silencing any echoes.

After a short conversation about the wedding, his demeanor changed. He grew serous. "I have called you here for a frank discussion," he said. My heart froze in fear. Had I done something to offend him?

I must have shown my thoughts on my face because he smiled briefly. "It's not like that," he told me, attempting to calm my sudden anxiety. "I wanted to talk about your life after marriage to my son."

I nodded.

"You have visited me many times since my wife died. You have cooked and cleaned. You have done a good job. You have worked diligently. You are already a good daughter-in-law, though you have not yet married my son. You should be proud."

I nodded. His effusive praise made me blush.

"I know you have attempted to ease my loss, but you must know you can never do that. You will be Kenji's wife, not mine. When you are married, you must take care of his needs first. Not mine."

I looked up into his eyes. "I know that," I said, "yet I still want to help you. You are my father-in-law. Or you will be, soon."

He nodded. "Yes. You want to help me. But you cannot help me with the one thing I need the most."

I was puzzled.

He sighed and gestured with one hand to his zipper. I immediately understood his meaning and I blushed. I sat there, frozen, staring at his zipper. I saw a slight bulge, and my blush grew deeper... but I couldn't take my eyes away from where they were staring.

He saw my reaction and his bulge grew. Still, he did nothing. I did nothing. We sat together, frozen.

Something inside me made me bolder than a lion that day. "I will help you with that," I said. "You are my father-in-law. I will help you as best I can."

He cocked his head, surprised at my boldness. "Will you?"

"I will. But just this time. Not afterwards. When I am married, I am Kenji's. You will have to find relief elsewhere. But today--now--this one time, I will help you, if you wish me to."

He nodded. "Hai," he said. Then he unzipped his trousers and I saw his penis for the first time. As I watched, it grew and lengthened, until it stuck straight out. I saw at once that it was not as long or as full as Kenji's. But where Kenji's penis tilted up at an angle, his father's penis stuck straight out, like a small battering ram. I felt the strength of it before I touched it and began to stroke him as I stroked his son.

He opened his belt and pulled his trousers down to his ankles. Then he gestured at his erect penis, which I was stroking firmly. "I would like you to kiss and suck it," he said.

I had never done that before but, as I said, I was not uneducated about sex. I knew the theory of oral pleasure. Kenji never asked me to use my mouth, but I would have, for him.

Now I would use my mouth on Kenji's father.

I got down on my knees and sucked his penis right there in his office, as his secretary sat outside the door, ensuring our privacy.

I sucked that penis for a very long time, but Kenji's father was not moved to squirt. I thought I might be doing the sucking wrong. So, I used my hands to stroke him while I used my mouth to suction him. That change made the difference, and soon the man was moaning in pleasure.

I must be honest here. There is no sense writing this down unless I am being honest. So, in honesty, I must say that I very much enjoyed sucking Kenji's father's penis. I enjoyed hearing such a powerful man moan because of me. I enjoyed sucking his penis so much that I felt a pressure building in my own core. My legs rubbed together, seeking more, while my head bobbed up and down and my hand firmly stroked the shaft of Kenji's father's erection.

This went on for many minutes. My jaw began to hurt, but I did not stop.

Finally, I pleasured him. "I'm going to--" he cried out, and pushed my head down on his penis as he squirted deep into my throat, coating my mouth and tongue with his salty essence. I swallowed every drop of his semen.

I licked and kissed his penis as the hardness retreated. I found myself not wanting the act to end. I didn't want it to ever end, because I had my own pressure now and I wanted something more.

He must have sensed how I felt, because he pulled my head up, then pulled me up and into his lap. He was still naked from the waist down. He lifted my skirt, took the flaccid head of his penis and rubbed it against my now-moist labial lips through my panties. I heard myself moan, just as he had.