The Breaking of Nikki Kim

I had hoped that speaking to my husband would help me resolve the conflict raging inside me, but instead, it had added fuel to the fire. Steve had given me explicit permission to go and talk to Danny's friend, to make him feel special, and to help Danny, if I could.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, pensively running a hairbrush through my long, silky brown waves, I recalled the last thing that Steve had said to me: "There's only so much you can control."

I can control this, I thought to myself resolutely.

I can go and talk to Johan because I am in control. He doesn't have the photos anymore. He can't use them to manipulate me any longer. I'd slapped him earlier and shown him that he couldn't take advantage of me. I was an adult woman, happily married with children, and he was just a friend of my son's. He was nothing that I couldn't handle.

Steve is right, I thought. I can go talk to him, and I'll make him see that he doesn't need this silly Rubik's Cube record any longer. Then, tomorrow, he'll be the bigger man and pass his crown to Danny gracefully. That's what I'll do. That's what will happen.

Setting the hairbrush down, I checked myself in the mirror. I was dressed in cute, normal clothes, a sleeveless blouse and a pair of jeans, some black sandals on my feet. As always, my hair and makeup looked nice, but I wasn't wearing anything provocative or revealing. I'm just a pretty, unassuming, 34-year-old Korean woman, here at the hotel with her son.

Careful not to disturb Danny, I stepped quietly out of our room, closing the door behind me.

"I'll be back in 15 minutes," I whispered, more to myself than to my son.

As I walked down the hallway towards room 1134, I whispered a mantra inside my head:

I am in control. I am in control. I am in control.

And then, standing in front of the door, I raised my hand to knock. Suddenly, the photos I'd seen on Johan's camera roll leapt into my mind. That young, pretty Asian girl, down on all fours. Then I thought of my sister, and all of the white boys she'd gone driving with back in high school.

I shook my head, dashing the images from my mind.

"That's not me," I whispered aloud. "I am in control."

Then, I knocked.

A moment later, Johan opened the door. He was wearing the same white t-shirt and running shorts that he'd been dressed in the last time I'd be to his room.

"You came," he grinned devilishly.

"Well, you were right," I said, stepping into the room. "We do need to talk."

I walked past him and sat down in the chair in the corner of his room.

"I want you to know that I understand what you are feeling," I said calmly.

"You do?" he asked, sitting back on the bed.

"These tournaments, these records... they're part of your identity," I continued. "Just like they are for Danny."

I folded my hands in my lap.

"You've made it very clear that you aren't a kid anymore," I said. "But if you want to be treated like an adult, then you've got to start acting like an adult."

"Okay," he nodded, half-smiling.

"Being an adult means treating other people with respect, Johan," I said, frowning to show him I was serious. "And it also means letting other people have their turn."

"Is that right?" he grinned.

"It's Danny's turn now," I nodded. "And if you want to be an adult, then you need to accept that, even if it stings a little."

"Hmmmmm," he scratched his chin, bemused.

"These records, they can't last forever," I said softly. "But you'll always have the memory of what it feels like to be a champion."

"So then, does this mean that we can have an adult conversion?" he asked, leaning forward. "Since, you know, you're telling me to act like an adult."

"I'm capable of have a respectful, adult conversation," I said, straightening my back. "Are you?"

"Nikki, do you know what I've learned from the Rubik's Cube over the years?" he said, sitting up in bed.

"What?" I asked.

"That every problem has a solution," he replied. "No matter the circumstances, there is always a series of moves that can get you to the result you want."

"That's very empowering," I remarked.

"Yes," he nodded. "It's given me a lot of confidence, because I know that with the right moves, there's nothing I cannot do."

"That is confident," I agreed. "Although some might say that's a little arrogant."

"Every situation has a solution. Even people have solutions," he continued, ignoring my comment. "Even you have a solution, Nikki."

"I'm not sure about that," I said warily.

"I am," he nodded. "Because I've almost solved you."

"Excuse me?" I balked. "You don't know me."

"Aren't you curious?" he asked. "Don't you want to know why I want you so badly?"

"No, I don't," I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. "I don't care what you want."

"Oh, come on, Nikki," he smirked. "I know you saw the photos on my phone."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Her name is Cara," he said. "She's Filipino. We go to university together."

"I don't care who she is!" I snapped. "And I really don't need to know that you have a fetish for Asian girls."

"You should care," he smirked. "Because it's your fault."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I stammered.

"You remember the first time we met?" he said, scratching his chin. "It was six years ago, the world championships in Las Vegas. I was 13-years-old."

"So what?"

"Danny was only 8 back then, and his brother was practically a baby," Johan said. "How old were you, Nikki?"

"I was... 28," I mumbled, answering his question despite myself.

"I'd never seen a mom that looked like you," he breathed, his voice growing heavy, laden with arousal. "Not in real life, anyway."

"Johan," I said, trying to cut him off.

"You were so hot and fit and young," he continued. "You remember that pool party they had? The day before the tournament started."

"I don't remember," I said dismissively, not wanting to encourage him.

"I do," he said, licking his lips. "You wore this tight, black one-piece. I remember you going into the water with Danny, and when you came out, I could see your nipples poking straight through."

"Johan, you can't talk to like that--"

"And your tits were so fucking big," he growled. "Like in porn."

Immediately I stood up to leave, but Johan was faster, stepping in between me and the door.

"I need to go," I said firmly. "I won't let you talk to me like."

"I'm not done," he said, unmoving.

"Let me go, Johan," I demanded, knowing there was no way I would be able to move him against his will.

"Sit back down," he said, gesturing towards the chair. "Let me finish talking, and then, you can go."

"You have to let me go," I protested, refolding my arms. "You can't just keep me here."

"I don't want to fight," he said softly, raising his palms defensively. "I just need to get this off my chest, okay? I've been a good friend to your son for six years, and I've been dealing with these feelings the whole time. Just let me say what I have to say."

"Hurry up," I said, reluctantly sitting back down.

"You just... your hair, your skin, your face," he said softly, standing beside the door. "Your body."

"I told you not to talk that way," I murmured, slouching down, trying to hide my breasts from his leering eyes.

"You were perfect," he sighed. "You still are."

Don't blush, I thought to myself. Don't you dare blush.

"I wasn't into Asian girls back then," he said, leaning his back against the door. "I hardly even knew any Asian girls growing up in Praetoria. But once I saw you... I couldn't want anything else."

I saw him reach for the drawstrings of his running shorts.

"What are you doing?!" I whispered frantically. "Stop that!"

"You were the first, Nikki," he said softly. "The first girl I ever jacked off to..."

Undoing the drawstrings, Johan reached inside his shorts and pulled his long, uncut cock clean out of them. For the second time that day, I found myself staring in at this young man's monstrous tool, unable to look away.

"Johan, stop," I said, shaking my head. "Put that away..."

"I was obsessed with you," he moaned, beginning to stroke himself. He was only semi-erect but already larger than my husband. "I still am..."

"This is wrong!" I cried. "You need to stop!"

"I tried!" he cried. "I watched so much Asian porn, Nikki. So many MILF videos... Asian MILFs, with big tits, just like you..."

In seconds, his cock had grown to obscene proportions in his hands. How can this boy be only 19-year-old, I wondered.

"When I got to college, I... I thought that if I finally fucked an Asian girl, I could get it out of my system," he moaned. "But I fucked a lot Asian girls last year, Nikki, and none of them could make it stop..."

The more he spoke, and the more he stroked, the more I felt the temperature of my body rising.

"And then, when you came here alone... without your husband..."

Oh god, I thought, my stomach tying itself up into knots of guilt. Steve.

Where are you, Steve? Why did you let me come here alone? What am I doing? What have I done? What should I do?

"I knew that I could finally solve you," he grunted, stroking himself faster. "That I could finally fuck you..."

"NO, JOHAN!" I yelled, standing up and stepping away. "You need to stop this and let me go!"

He moved closer to me, keeping his body between me and the exit, his huge, fully-erect cock wagging back and forth between his legs.

"Do you like porn, Nikki?" he growled.

"I'm a married woman," I pleaded.

"Do you watch porn... with your husband?"

I couldn't answer that. I wouldn't.

"Have you ever watched a white guy fuck an Asian girl?"

"Let me go," I whispered. "Please."

"You have, haven't you?" he nodded, looming over me. "Does it turn you on?"

"I can't do this to my husband," I murmured, but I was cornered, unable to back away.

"Does it turn him on?" Johan growled. "Would it turn him on to see you like this?"

What I couldn't say--what I wouldn't say--was that Steve and I did sometimes watch porn together. And sometimes, Steve picked videos of Asian women with white men.

After what my father had told me about the white guys who fooled around with my sister, these videos made me a bit uncomfortable, but I had to admit that they turned me on. I always wondered whether Steve picked those videos because they turned him on, or whether he picked them because he knew they would turn me on.

"Don't talk about my husband..." I whispered.

"If your husband were here, I bet it would turn him on," he said, grabbing my hand. "To watch a young white guy with a big dick fuck his hot Asian wife..."

He moved my hand against his cock, forcing me to grasp him, wrapping my delicate fingers around his thickness.

"This is wrong," I said, looking away, trying to pull my hand back as he held it there. "I can't do this..."

"I bet your husband would let me do this," Johan laughed cruelly, forcing my hand to glide up and down his shaft. "Just like you let me, earlier..."

"Johan--"

"I know I'm bigger than he is, aren't I?" he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "So just let me fuck you for him..."

Suddenly, he reached forward and grabbed my blouse, tearing it open recklessly to expose the black bra strapped around my large, full breasts.

"JOHAN!" I screamed, my tits bouncing as I recoiled away from him. "YOU--YOU CAN'T DO THIS--"

In a single movement, he bent down and picked me up, tossing me onto the bed.

"STOP, JOHAN!" I cried, cowering on the bed, my breasts heaving as my breathing became ragged. "THIS IS MADNESS!"

"Let me fuck you, Nikki," he growled, climbing onto the bed. "Let me fuck you and I'll let Danny break my record tomorrow..."

"Johan--Johan, no," I whimpered, trying to crawl away. "Wait--"

"We both know this is why you came here tonight," he cried, grabbing my jeans and roughly unbuttoning them. "To do this, for Danny..."

A surge of adrenaline shot through me.

"You know Danny needs me," Johan said, moving on top of me as he began to pull my jeans past my hips. "You know you need to do this for him..."

Somehow, these words cut through the tumult inside me. Because Johan was right.

I was here in Sydney because Danny needed me to be here for him. I was at this tournament, in this hotel, because Danny needed me to be here for him. And I was on this bed, with this aggressive young white man, because Danny needed me to be here for him.

With shocking clarity, I remembered my purpose as a mother.

I would do anything for my son. Even this.

"You--you have to cheer for him," I stammered softly, rolling onto my back to face Johan. "You have to be a real friend to him..."

"Whatever you want, Nikki," he said, his face lighting up victoriously as my black cotton underwear came into view. "Anything for you..."

"If I do this," I said, my voice trailing off as he tossed my jeans onto the floor. "I won't let you hurt Danny. I swear to God, if you ever hurt my son..."

"I wanna fuck your tits first," Johan said, ignoring my words and straddling my midsection. "I've been dreaming of these tits since I was 13..."

"I'm serious, Johan!" I tried to sit up on my elbows, but he had me pinned to the bed beneath his body. "Promise me! Promise me that you'll never do anything to hurt my son."

"I promise," he said hurriedly, gazing down at my body. "God, I can't believe this is really happening..."

For a moment, I just looked up at him, watching him drink in my body. The look of pure lust in his eyes shamed me, but I was more ashamed of what it made me feel.

I'd never been someone's obsession before, a trophy to be claimed, a land to be conquered. The feeling was electrifying, a cocktail of anger and shame and excitement and fear that I'd never tasted before.

For all his swaggering confidence, it was evident in Johan's eyes that he never really believed that he would actually find himself in this position. But there he was, a 19-year-old college boy, poised with his oversized cock at full mast, the prone, supple body of his friend's beautiful, big-breasted Asian mom lying there beneath him.

And if that weren't enough of a fantasy, Johan could see that I wasn't fighting him anymore, not really. Earlier that day, he had physically overpowered me, forcing me to suck him off and swallow his cum. Now, he didn't have to force me, because I was negotiating with him, asking for friendship and kindness in exchange for my married Korean pussy.

I was going to give him what he wanted, and we both knew it. He had solved me, just like he said he would.

Then, Johan spat unceremoniously on my chest, using his hands to rub the saliva in between my breasts.

"You're a pig," I whispered, trying to salvage some semblance of dignity even as I acquiesced. He lifted my bra up, sliding his cock beneath the thin strip of fabric that connected the two cups. "You're a monster..."

Now, his huge, pulsating tool was nestled in the valley between my breasts, snugly pinned against my skin by my bra.

"Your tits are so big, Nikki," he sighed with pleasure, using his hands to push my boobs together so that they created a warm, pillowy tunnel around his cock. "So fucking soft..."

Then, Johan began fucking my tits.

I lay there speechless, looking up at this 19-year-old boy as he bucked his hips, rutting himself crudely against my breasts, his face a mask of cruel, unadulterated lust.

As Johan grunted and moaned, I found myself thinking of my older sister once again. Was this what it had been like for her? Had she let those white boys take advantage of her like this back when she was a teenager? Had she enjoyed the way that they manhandled her?

But I knew this was much darker than anything she'd done back then. I wasn't a high school girl in the backseat of a car. I was a married, 34-year-old woman, not some naive teenage girl. Yet here I was, on my back, as my son's friend buried his white, college boy cock between my tits.

"You've been married a long time, haven't you?" he grunted. "You're a good wife, aren't you?"

I didn't answer. I didn't even know the answer anymore.

"I bet you've never cheated on him, have you?"

I shook my head no.

"Fuck, so... so I'm special," he moaned, exultant. "I'm your first..."

In the back of my mind, I heard Steve's voice: "You're good at making people feel special."

"Yes," I said softly.

"You've... you've really never been with anyone else?" he moaned. "You've never been with a white guy?"

"No," I whispered.

"Jesus Christ," he panted, slowing his strokes. "I can't wait any longer. I'm going to fuck you so hard, Nikki..."

Johan withdrew his cock from between my tits, yanking his white t-shirt over his head to reveal his lean, teenage body. He climbed off of me and pulled me into an upright position.

"Take your bra off," he commanded. "Show me your tits."

"I... I shouldn't be doing this, Johan," I whispered. But the words themselves felt performative, because my ruined blouse was already slipping off my shoulders.

"I need this," he said, pulling at one of my bra straps. "Danny needs this."

Slowly, I reached behind my back, unfastening the clasp of my bra.

"You need it, too," he said, gently pulling the bra away from my body. "I know you do."

Now, I was completely topless, wearing only my black cotton panties. Johan was next to me on the bed, naked, his 19-year-old tool massively erect as he gazed at my huge, bare breasts.

With a surprising gentleness, he leaned over and kissed me on the lips. My mouth opened, and he slipped his tongue inside, embracing me as he fondled my tits with his hands.

Making out with Johan felt deeply wrong, worse even than letting him fuck my tits. It was one thing for him to use my body as a passive, pliant vessel, but now my mouth was moving instinctively against his. I felt so young, letting him kiss me like this. Here was the teenage experience my sister had enjoyed, the one she'd fought with my parents over, the one that I'd never had.

Then, I felt Johan's fingers tug at my panties, beginning to pull them down.

"Let's... let's stop now," I whispered, breaking the kiss, knowing the final boundary was at hand. "Before it's too late..."

"It's already too late," he said, as my panties descended below my knees. "It was too late the moment your husband let you get on that plane without him..."

"Don't talk about him," I begged, as Johan pulled my panties past my feet. "He's a good man."

Now, we were both fully, frighteningly naked. Me, and my son's 19-year-old friend. What was I doing here? How could this possibly be happening?

"He wants this for you, Nikki," he said, spreading my legs and lowering his face between them. "He let you come here by yourself so that you could fuck a white guy..."

"That's not true," I protested meekly. Johan's face was so close to my pussy that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"I've seen a lot of Asian couples on Reddit," he said softly, his tongue beginning to lap against the folds of my pussy. "The husbands, they like watching their hot Asian wives fuck hung white studs..."

"We're not... we're not like that," I squealed, my brain lighting up with pleasure signals as Johan's tongue grazed against my clit. "I don't do that..."

"But you are, Nikki," he grinned, continuing to eat me. "You just didn't know it until now..."

"No--ohmygod--Johan--"

"You're the perfect Asian MILF," he continued, licking me faster now. "The perfect Asian hotwife, and your husband knows it..."

"Ohgod--ohfuck," I mewled, the reward center of my brain flooding with dopamine.

"He knows you need to fuck young white studs, even if he won't admit it..."

"Ohgod--fuck--oh Jesus--"

My body was on fire. I could feel his tongue against my clit in every cell of my being.