tagInterracial LoveWhitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 01

Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 01


Nik waved goodbye to the students as they hurried out of class for the weekend. The only ones who stayed behind were those on cleanup duty. The classroom was large but packed to the brim with tables. There was just enough room to walk between and around the desks, and that was it.

"Oh, Knight-san, do you have plans for the weekend?" an older gentlemen asked, stuffing away papers in his bag.

"Meeting some people. Nothing too fancy. Getting my feet wet in the city," Nik replied.

"Tokyo is a beautiful city. Enjoy the nightlife. It'll do you good. You work too hard."

"Nah, I just follow your lead, Mr. Yamaguchi. You make it easy for me in class."

The man nodded his head, not saying a word to remain humble.

"Enjoy the free time. You're young. Now is the time to get all the adventuring out of your system. You'll need to find a wife soon."

"You're right," Nik commented uneasily. "I'm far too young for marriage."

Mr. Yamaguchi nodded his head again in agreement.

"But don't wait too long. No one will marry you after thirty."


"You don't want an old maid, or have to marry a Philippine. Gold diggers."

"Uh, sure."

Nik didn't know how to take the conversation. It started off pleasant and normal but suddenly turned a bit too personal. They had only been working together for a couple months, but Nik felt like Mr. Yamaguchi was taking the mentor role too seriously, especially since he was a gaijin.

Mr. Yamaguchi slapped Nik on the shoulder as he walked past.

"Trust me. You're not the first English teacher I've been paired up with. Young men get their blood pumping and make stupid decisions that ruin their future. Young women swoon over a pretty boy and get suicidal from a broken heart. Folly of youth."

He patted Nik's shoulder one more time and left. Nik stared out the class window wondering why the sudden life lesson. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his phone to double-check the time. The offer was still fresh. Something new, something adventurous as Mr. Yamaguchi would put it. But it was a different beast than modeling. Bag over his shoulder, he waved at the remaining students before departing on his adventure.


"Welcome to Club Starlight. We're booked full currently. Would you mind waiting, ma'am?" Nik asked, bowing gracefully at the older Japanese lady.

She replied positively in broken English, allowing Nik to escort her to the waiting area. The club was full, unusual for a Thursday night. He was two hours into his shift and he already had to put on the charm to keep some of the regulars happy.

It had been a few weeks since the photoshoot. Someone contacted the agent after seeing the images in a subway car, asking if he was interested in making some easy money. Teaching paid okay but he didn't turn down the chance to line his pockets some more. This was his second shift waiting on the door of the host club.

The owner wanted a new look at the gate, and having a tall, handsome, white gaijin would bring in more customers looking for an international flavor. If only to gawk at him from afar, the owner didn't care so long as Nik's appearance brought in fresh blood.

"Kid, you ready for the limelight?" a slim Japanese man asked with a grizzled tone.


"We got a request for you. Some cougar. Fresh meat. Just sit and talk. Compliment her, make her feel like a queen, and always try to get her to order more booze."

"I don't..."

The manager gave Nik a firm back pat, like a coach sending a player into the big game. He tried to think of it like any typical date as he walked over to the corner table. The woman was indeed a cougar. Not ugly but not drop dead gorgeous. Just average. Although, any guy smitten with yellow fever would surly add a couple points onto the tally.

He bowed gracefully to the woman who dressed in an expensive one-piece dress. A slit went all the way to her thigh, and her cleavage was anything but classy. Nik wore a fancy tuxedo provided by the club. It felt painted on, leaving nothing to the imagination for the customers. It still allowed him to remain classy, even though he was put on display for his looks. Firm muscles bulged out of the jacket sleeve, and tree trunk legs could barely be contained by tight pants. Sitting down, he kept smiling.

"Thank you for requesting me. I'm Nik."

"June. My, you look so much more handsome up close and live than on a billboard."

"Oh, you saw my picture. Thanks, that's too kind of you. I just got the pictures taken. I don't know where they got put up. More than subway ceilings I guess."

"You're on a giant billboard outside my office window. I get to stare at you all day long, big boy," she flirted.

Truth be told, Nik wasn't fully on board with being a host. He sealed the deal with Anri and wanted that romance to build and ignite, not flame out in controversy. But student loans, and the fact this was just a conversation, kept his prudish morality in check.

"So do you come here often? I just began working here."

"My first time, handsome. The husband has a business meeting so I figured what is good for the goose is good for the gander," she said, snuggling in closer to Nik. "How is my English? I'm so very self-conscious about it."

"It's fine. Do you need to use it for work?"

"Uh-huh, corporate job. Always on the go with New York, London, Cairo, all over."

"Must be stressful."

"More stressful than you'd imagine," she said, running a finger down the center of his muscular chest. "I like a man who works out. My husband got fat recently. You know what that does to a woman's libido?"

"Nothing good, I'm guessing."

"I'm not some eighteen year old tramp who'll take a bribe to suck a cock. I need a real man between the sheets."

For the next couple hours, the pair chatted away in the popular host club. People came and went but the businesswoman's attention never left the young gaijin. Copious amounts of alcohol loosened up the already loose woman to the point she was hanging on his every word, looking like she'd jump his bones if alone. Eventually, the club had to close down for the night. The manager was quite happy at the large bill racked up by the cougar. Nik didn't string her along, as he didn't know much of what to do. He just talked and let her flirt the whole time, and let her get touchy within the rules of the club.

He escorted her outside. She wore an expensive looking fur coat. In the hot weather it was a vanity statement to show how much wealth she could flaunt. Pricey clothes, pricey club, she was throwing money around like the 1980s economic bubble didn't burst.

"I had a fun time, stud," the cougar said, holding Nik's arm like a lover. "I'll make sure to request you again when I stop by next. You were worth every yen."

Nik opened the door of the awaiting car for her when he heard a loud shout in Japanese. A tall, fat Japanese man stormed over to the pair, shouting loudly enough to make a scene. Nik didn't understand a word the man said. He could only guess it was the woman's husband by the way they pointed fingers at each other. The young man wanted to sneak away, let the couple work out their own business. But the sound of a loud slap broke that plan in two.

The fat man struck his wife so hard that she fell to the ground. Out of instinct, Nik grabbed the husband by the collar and landed a hard right hook. Everyone on the street corner watched in awe at the random street fight, as if it were out of a movie or video game. None moved forward to help either party though.

"Kutabaru gaijin!" the man said, getting up to his feet.

A knife quickly flashed from his pocket. He waved it around at Nik aggressively, trying to stab at the young foreigner. Each time the knife flashed forward, Nik dodged the blow. He was far from an expert in martial arts. He only tried to do what he saw on TV. One slice hit home though, ripping through the side of the tuxedo to expose his side. Blood gushed out. One hand put pressure on the wound as he didn't know how deep he had been cut.

"Gaijin yariman!" he shouted towards his wife.

In that one fleeting moment the man's attention was divided, Nik grabbed the man's hand and knocked the knife away. Trying to diffuse the situation, he kicked it away into the street. Being unarmed did not fix the situation. The husband kept advancing.

"Settle down, friend. I don't want to hurt you," he said, arms spread out wide in a non-provocative manner. "Just walk away and the cops don't need to get involved."

Either the man didn't understand English, or he didn't care, but he swung wildly for the dome. Nik ducked, pivoted, and threw a hard gut punch. Nik expected the man to fold like a house of cards but the reciprocated knee to his face told a different story. The foreign host fell backwards onto his ass, blood leaking from a busted nose.

Onlookers watched intently. Street fights were rare in such an opulent area, and even rarer when dealing with a foreigner. The husband took out a second knife, eliciting a curse from the downed host.

"Dammit. You just won't listen to me, will you?" he said, putting on an aire of bravado.

Just like before, he dodged the swings and thrusts. The man was fat, almost bullish, but untrained in knife fighting. Nik didn't know the intricacies of knife fighting either but he did know that steel beat flesh. He dodged and weaved, leading the man to swing for the fences into a car door. Steel met steel, breaking the knife blade.

Pouncing on the opportunity, Nik kicked out, landing a solid blow to the man's kneecap. He cried out in pain as an audible pop broke the tension. All the crazed husband could do was writhe in agony at the critical hit, crumpled on the dirty ground. More Japanese words were directed at Nik but he couldn't understand a thing.

During the entire fight, the wife had fled the scene. Nik looked around the crowd for her but to no avail. Not knowing what to do, he walked towards the club entrance where his manager stood watching.

"Damn drunks. You okay, kid?" the man asked, pulling out a handkerchief.

"My side hurts like hell. I think I need to see a doctor."

"No doctor for you. Want to go to jail?" the manager replied, pushing the cloth onto the wound.

"Why would I go to jail? He started it. I was just defending myself."

"You're a long way from home, gaijin. One whiff of a poster boy getting into a street fight and the press will be all over you. Cops would have no choice but to arrest you. I know a guy who will patch you up. Don't worry. You made us a ton of money tonight. My treat."

"Thanks...," Nik said, taking the cloth to push harder on the wound.


On a chair near the table, Nik's ruined suit laid in all its glory. The crisp white shirt was stained in the blood of combat, and a torn hole made short work of the expensive jacket. He cursed out as the needle sewed up the gash along his side.

"Stay out of the gym until the stiches come out or you risk tearing them open again, and change the bandages daily so you don't get an infection," the doctor said.

He was an elderly man. He spoke with a distinct accent that was not Japanese.

"Manager told me you fought for a woman's honor. Many men die for such honor," he asked, putting in a final stich.

"Not my choice. I wasn't going to let a jealous husband beat the shit out of her on the street. Not for something he was probably doing himself."

"Brave and foolish hill to die on. Next time, get cut while saving your own woman's honor."

The doctor gave him a hardy slap on the shoulder before waving him up. Nik moved slowly, tenderly. Fingers slid along his side to feel the stiches.

"Thanks, doc. I don't know many doctors who make house calls to a club."

"Side money. I send it home to my family on the mainland."

"Chinese. Gotcha. Well, thanks again, doc. No offence, but I hope I never need your services again," Nik said plainly, shaking the Chinese man's hand.

"In your line of work, you'll be seeing me plenty."

The man left the backroom of the club, leaving the young host confused at the comment. Nik didn't think being a host meant a life of street fighting. He grabbed a spare shirt from his locker in the staff room and left for the night. His side was on fire and all he wanted to do was get back to his apartment. He had no clue how he was going to explain why he was cut up when he got to school on Monday. Although that was a trade-off he was willing to make as the cops never came by. No sirens, no ambulance, nothing. It was eerie and strange but the young man was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Back in his small apartment, he slumped down on the tatami mat that acted as his bed. The sound of water running echoed as he saw a small bag on the living room chair. The door clicked open shortly after the water stopped running.

"You're back late. Had to beat off all the cougars with a stick?" Anri joked, toweling dry her hair.

"Something like that," Nik grumbled, turning over to show his wound.

"What happened to you?" she said, concerned.

The towel dropped to the floor as she kneeled next to him, hands hovering over the wound. Fingers were caught between wanting to help in some way and not helping for feel of causing more harm than good.

"Ran into an angry husband. I got the better of the encounter."

"Did you kill him? How is getting slashed the better?"

"I broke his kneecap," he smiled. "Ouch...careful. The stiches are fresh."

"I told you to be careful taking that job. Starlight isn't as clean cut as it makes itself out to be."

"Obviously. I got stitched up by an underground Chinese doctor. Doesn't take a genius to know gangsters are involved somewhere in there."

"I'm being serious. Don't go back. You'll make good money modeling on the side."

Anri ran her smooth, delicate hands across his granite jaw. Concern beamed in her eyes.

"Maybe, but the cash is just too good to pass up. I don't want to be living a life of student debt until I'm eighty. I want to make enough to get rid of it and then I'll stop." He reciprocated her concern, cupping a cheek in his hand. "I won't play the white knight anymore, okay? I'll just do the job and leave."

Anri nodded slowly. She shifted to his good side, snuggling up to him on the floor. Fingers ran along his shoulder, arm, and chest, trying to help him keep his mind off the knife wound.

"Thanks for the concern, Anri. I just need some time to heal and I should be okay."

"Don't be a hero," she said, tracing a finger along his neckline. "I like my men vanilla, not dead in the ground."

Leaning in, she kissed him softly on the lips. Together they moved in unison, pressed together for a hot moment as if time stood still. The softness of the kiss was out of romance than lust, pushing different buttons. He took her hand, wrapping their fingers together, lying next to one another. Softly, their lips kept touching, caressing, almost as if they were too scared to touch.

Nik's other hand stroked her hair, petting her gently, all while she stroked his body to help ease the pain. She laid on the floor naked next to him. The cool breeze through the open window nipped at her porcelain skin under the moonlight. Cheeks rubbed together. Velvet breathing caressed their ears as they enjoyed the gentle moment.

Calm and serene, the moment lasted longer than most people's attention spans. The softness, gentleness of their romantic expedition contrasted with the more carnal visage of the outside world. No spanking, hair pulling, or even a firm hand to hold the other's head. Each kiss and touch felt like pillows.

Slowly, Anri unbuckled Nik's pants to fish out his cock. They lost track of how much time they cradled each other kissing. She felt the engorged lump of flesh was full of blood and vitality. Stroking the uncut cock, she could feel the equally thick foreskin compress and retract in her hand. Each stroke, each motion was slow, sensual, and soft, almost as if she wasn't gripping the cock fully. Her hand worked in unison with her lips. For every kiss, there was a stroke. For every stroke, there was a kiss. Nik's mind enjoyed the delight, enjoyed the attention, as pleasure and not pain was being fed into his synapses.

Reciprocating in kind, Nik reached out to touch one of her breasts. Her skin shone in the moonlight, as pure and ivory as his was. He cupped one of them, letting fingers sink into the malleable flesh. A slight groan escaped her lips, kissing into it. Each squeeze kept the mood romantic, slow, subtle, sensual. In the fucked up world of 21st century porn, their erotic actions would be perceived as boring and not worth a dime for the voyeuristic delights of an audience. But they were not performing for a camera. They were fanning the flames of romance, cultivating the planted seed and watering it to grow.

Anri, mind on fire with passion, still remained focused on her positioning. She avoided the wound entirely, not wanting to ruin the moment for even a second because of a lapse in concentration. Her hand worked its magic, fingertips gripping under the cockhead to push and pull on the foreskin. His cockhead was sensitive, and such a simple trick had him edging quickly.

No words were spoken. All that needed to be said was directly through eye contact. It remained vigilant, constant, as they focused on their sensitive spots. Anri bit her lip in pleasure, smiling, as he played with her tits. Nik smiled back, eyes twitched as he tried to hold out from cumming instantly in her hand. Putting a finger to his lips, she slid down his body, hands gravitating over his skin like a witch on an orb. Her cheek rubbed against the hard, ivory slab of manmeat that stood at full attention, pulsating, aching for release.

Still no words left Anri's mouth, nor her tongue, as she chose to rub her cheek against his cock. Eyes focused on his, she rubbed against the cock. Hair dangled along, brushing his shaft and skin, covering up part of her face. She looked hot in the pose, almost like a dangerous, sultry spy. Mouth open, eyes targeted, the soft cheek kept stroking the sexual organ. This entire time, Nik stopped feeling any pain from the knife wound. All he felt was the pleasure his girlfriend was giving him. It felt like heaven to the man because he didn't need to ask or tell her, she just knew, she took the lead as a good and proper girlfriend.

Nik attempted to reach forward but she pushed the wandering hand back to its side. He got the hint to sit back and relax, to enjoy the special service. Tease time was over. Lips dragged along the base of the thick shaft before it engulfed the fat head. Anri didn't bob up or down. She kept a tight seal on the cockhead, licking the piss slit with a vivacious tongue. Eager, passionately delving into the hole made Nik grunt in pleasure. All the focus was on that opening, smothering it in affection. Up, down, around, her mouth never went a centimeter deeper.

Finally, after minutes of testing his endurance, she finally relented and pushed further down the ivory shaft. Small dabs of lipstick smeared the flesh. Each thrust up and down did not detract from her longing stares into his eyes. Resting against his elbows, he enjoyed the slow erotic burn, and how sensual her technique crafted his stamina to new heights. Part of his psyche wanted to release a flood of delicious seed down her throat this very instant, but another part wanted to keep the enjoyment going. Every second of pleasure was a second less of pain.

Reaching forward, her hands rested on his chiseled stomach. They carefully rubbed down the ridges and contours. Each finger glided along the indents like a skier bouncing along an Olympic mogul track. Up, down, around, fast, slow, and her smile beaming through every minute of it.

But this geisha treatment was becoming too much for Nik. His stamina hit a wall. His cock twitched, spasmed, sent out signals in her mouth that the flood was coming. The dam burst. No trickle, just one giant flood of seed gushing into an open, eager mouth that greedily sucked down every drop without a spill. No stain peaked out of the corner of her mouth. As graceful as she helped remove the pain, she also swallowed every ounce.

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