tagInterracial LoveWhitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 03

Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 03


"How was your weekend, Knight-san?" Mr. Yamaguchi asked, writing notes on the blackboard.

"Pretty good, sir. Went out and explored the city more."

"Found yourself a pretty girl yet?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Nik admitted.

"Good. Don't waste your youth," Mr. Yamaguchi commented. "Love is like a flower. It requires fertilization to bloom. Some flowers last but a fleeting moment, while others last an eternity."

"You sound like a poet, sir."

"Neglected youth, Knight-san. Learn from your elders."

Nik had daily discussions with Mr. Yamaguchi about random life events. The elder teacher spoke like a wise seer, imparting knowledge to an impressionable and foolish youth. Yamaguchi spoke boldly, unreserved, which contrasted starkly with the other faculty. They were polite and amicable but viewed Nik as another gaijin helper, rather than a fellow teacher.

It was a harsh dance Nik had to be lead to. Signing up for the position was easy. Finding a job as an English teacher in Asia was as simple as completing a TESOL certificate. Holding a teaching license in his pocket overkilled the application qualification section. Japanese staff were so used to lazy, shifty, low-quality chaff that they treated him with the same deference by default.

"Mr. Yamaguchi, I've got a question for you."

"What is it, Knight-san?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Mr. Yamaguchi continued writing on the board, not stopping a second to the random question.

"Once, a long time ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't want to open old wounds."

"There is no wound to open, Knight-san. Timid resolve kept me safe. My heart never felt the sting."

"I see," Nik sighed, feeling embarrassed.

"I've taught at this school for many years, Knight-san. Many foreigners come here, men and women. Some keep to themselves, and some brag about their exploits. But I never heard the captive seduction of love grace their lips. I'm happy you met someone special."

"I didn't say I met someone. It was only a question."

Yamaguchi smirked.

"Then why ask if Cupid's arrow did not strike true?"

Before Nik could reply, the first wave of students entered the classroom for homeroom. Time flowed smoothly. Nik focused on the lessons at hand, putting aside the question asked of Mr. Yamaguchi. The bell tolled the end of the day quickly. Saying his good-byes to the staff, he walked off to a local restaurant for dinner. Mr. Yamaguchi's words sticking in the back of his mind.

No date tonight with Anri. He flew solo, and it felt weird, felt like a piece of himself got misplaced. Grabbing a ticket from the machine, he handed it off to the cook standing behind the long counter. The restaurant served students, teachers, and anyone needing a ten-minute meal and out the door quick.

A soft vibration massaged his thick thigh muscle. Looking at the phone, he saw Anri's name. Inner feelings flipped, from sadness to joy.

"Miss you, baby. I'll call you tomorrow. I'll be lonely without you!"

Nik's fingers typed at lightning speed, replying to the message. That was all it took. A simple 'miss you', to brighten up a day. Maybe he was crazy? Maybe having colder girlfriends in the homeland made simplicity feel like a treasure trove? He didn't care. It felt good.

In the middle of slurping down the bowl of ramen, another message massaged his thigh.

"Friday still good?"

It came from Musashi.

"Yes, no problem," he replied to the text.

"Nothing happened last Friday. No violence, and no uncouth guests. The music made the night flow smooth. One more night wouldn't hurt? It'd be another month of student loans in the bank," he thought.

Finishing dinner, Nik walked home.


Friday night came by fast, too fast. Anri's job kept her from a Monday night date, but she made up for it the rest of the week. The pair were inseparable. Hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm, they walked the streets of the city for hours. Even after all that, more hours ticked off their depravity meter. Slapping became a welcoming greeting in their apartments.

Unlike the host club jobs, Nik didn't think twice about pushing the envelope with Anri. They pushed each other's sexual appetites. Sexual nitro filled their veins. When one acted on the brink of exhaustion, the other introduced a new kink to keep the fun going. They never thought twice that they went too fast, or would fly off the track.

Nik picked Anri up the previous night from a photoshoot. Dressed to the tens, high heels, and professionally set hair, the glares they got only made the foreigner more prideful. Their pushing of the envelope also had unintended side effects. Nik's sexual appetite awakened as well, growing and percolating, hungrier for lewder and crazier situations. That was why they strolled down an empty park, one with a dirty, secluded, public toilet.

They fucked in a toilet stall before, but seeing Anri decked out like a member of high society tempted Nik's loins. The juxtaposition of fucking high class pussy in a low class area left a noticeable impression in his pants.

"Something naughty in mind, baby?" she giggled, holding his arm tightly.

"Definitely. A little more exhibition to spice up our love making."

"You mean porno sex, don't you?"

"You're craving another dozen slaps, aren't you, babe?" he smirked.

"The wetness held in my pussy can't wait. But don't you think this is a bit too dangerous?"

"This late at night? Don't worry. No one will care, even if someone does take a piss. Only speak English. You know they won't care about a couple gaijin."

"You're right about that...unless they sneak a peak of this slab of heaven," she cooed, gripping the outline of the python.

The bathroom looked like a bomb hit it. Dirt, piss, and shit stained all over. No one cleaned the pig sty in forever. However, it did not deter Anri in the slightest. Grabbing Nik's tie, she led him into the first stall they found. Without any coaxing or direction, trained legs squatted perfectly so her nose leveled with his cock.

"My Daimyo going to fuck me harder than ever before? Fuck me in a shit stained toilet?" she encouraged him.

Lips nibbled at the right hand, prepping it for ecstasy. Balanced perfectly, Anri could squat for an hour, easy, to handle any and all Nik had on tap for tonight.

"I'm going to make you a cum drooling fucktoy, Anri. You'll hold my hand walking home together, looking like I fucked you for an entire day. And you're going to have a smile every step of the way."

"Damn right, baby. I'm your fuckdoll. I need it, baby, please. Your hand feels ready. I can smell the masculinity. Slap your bitch," she told him.

What is making love? Is it what the movies feed the audience? Two people performing the dance slowly, humping slow and methodical, with kisses timed by a tortoise. Or is it the wild side? Dirty language and dirtier positions designed to boil blood until the coffee pot of passion whistled.

Nik had a philosophical mind, always racing a mile a minute. But with her, his babe, his love, such silly questions held no power or sway. He just did. He took her trust and made her scream his name. Every slap that rained down in the wrecked stall made the Japanese woman moan in delight.

"More, harder, make me orgasm from the palm of your hand. I'm going to suck you dry, baby," she purred, between slaps.

"Suck me dry, and then some. I want to be empty for a week. So dry that I can fuck you for hours without busting and ruining the fun."

"I've been a good girl, baby. I kept the plug in me all day, like you asked," Anri informed him. "It hurt but I did it. I'm a good girl for my Daimyo."

"A good, slutty girl."

Anri's cheek toughened up considerably the past week. The slapping came natural. Her tolerance ramped up at an extreme rate, making Nik's hand sting from the intensity required for each swing. At first they worried about a bruise that'd expose their kinky lifestyle, but any redness faded quickly.

Teeth raked the crotch of his pants, sliding along the long pipe of white flesh. Delicate hands reached around to grip the muscular ass, digging perfectly manicured nails into tough fabric. No words, only action. She used her teeth to pull down the zipper, releasing the pipe she'd be smoking all night. It hung there, free and wild, a soft hunk of flesh. Lips kissed the tip, sucking it like a prom queen celebrating with the prom king.

Drunken voices could be heard in the distance. They approached, getting closer and closer. Anri trusted Nik. The sucking didn't stop. Eye glued themselves on his. Fitting the thick shaft made her cheek expand like a chipmunk. Nik didn't understand a word being said by the piss breakers. His cock, however, reacted positively to the exhibitionist maneuver.

Looking upon Anri, he knew he struck gold. She wanted everything he could throw and her, and more. The vixen lusted for his gaijin cock twenty-four/seven. Tears ran along smooth cheek contours, snowballing makeup. Tears of joy. Tears of happiness.

Love. Nik had crushes in high school. One of the cheerleaders in his class. An actress on TV. A pin-up model in a magazine he found. But, in the words of Mr. Yamaguchi, they went unfertilized. The latter two for obvious reasons, but the former amounted to little but a shy hello. Never did he seize the opportunity. Too worried about being embarrassed.

What would life have amounted to if he pulled the trigger at asking the cheerleader out? Would life speed along better or worse? Would their sex life be exciting? Would they fawn and swoon like each moment was the first? Or was this all fate? A deus ex machina, dropping off the passenger to a happier ending? Years of unsatisfying trysts and relationships, building to a dramatic, happy crescendo.

Everything poured into the relationship bank doubled. Nik stared into the fierce fire lit in Anri's eyes, determined to drain the man dry, even if it meant a curious audience knocking on their stall door. The first group of piss breakers would not be the ones to interrupt their fun. Their voices dimmed and cut off.

"First group. How are you feeling, babe?" Nik asked, pulling her off by the hair.

Feeling the firm grip, strong but caring, made her panties wet.

"Wonderful, baby. I want it all from you tonight. Don't hold back. Never hold back. Don't worry, the outfit is mine to keep. We can ruin it."

Nik kept a tight grip, as the enthusiastic slut tried to lean forward for a kiss of his cock. Just out of reach, forever the tease he was.

"Take the lipstick out and hand it to me," he told her.

She did as ordered. No hesitation. Fire red. The darkest shade on the market she could grab a sample of from work.

"I want evidence of your cock sucking tonight. I want my cock lathered in rings. When the color fades, I'll hand it off for you to freshen up. Got it, babe?"

"Naturally," she winked.

Back she went, sliding the white cock down her tight, whoriental throat like a pro. Quick and eager, gagging the thick pipe until her gag reflex kicked in. Lips suctioned off a section, leaving a visible checkpoint to beat.

Anri loved having her face slapped, but what Nik enjoyed the most was yanking hair. They learned quickly how much push and pull to exert. She'd push her face forward on the cock, and he'd pull her hair as if to remove her. Enough tug to feel the roots strain, and hear her moans of passion.

Half an hour passed. Anri moved barely an inch, squatting down on high heel shoes, sucking off her man. Possession is a two-way street. He was her man as much as she was his. Anri knew his ego inflated walking down the street, hand-in-hand, with a beautiful, Oriental goddess. But flip the script. Her ego inflated equally. For every man jealous of him getting to bang her tight body, there looked a woman jealous of her getting to possess a shining example of masculinity. Tall, strong, confidently in-charge, feminine intuition alerted her to the eye daggers of assassins wanting to replace her at his side. Love is a battlefield.

"Enough sucky sucky time, Anri," Nik said, pulling her up by the hair. "Spread your legs open."

Her body got pushed up against the stall's shabby wall. Legs spread out wide, butt protruded, and back arched. All in the proper position to be handled properly.

"Every day at school I day dream of you in a tight, conservative business suit. These feminine curves on display, teasing me as we teach together. Hours of it, daily. Until I push you over the desk, spread you open, and fuck you senseless. You're not sorry for an instant getting me hard, instead egging me on to fuck you harder and harder."

His breath sent goosebumps up her spine. His words echoed truth in her ear. The slab of powerful white cock rested up against her dripping, stairway to heaven.

"I'll never apologize for making you hard. I'm not a loser. I'm not ashamed to be with my man. I want you hard. Only for me!" she replied, fiercely. "Fuck me, baby. Do it. Fill me full. Crack my womb."

"You're a dirty bitch. So kinky, I don't know which of us is going to run dry first," he chuckled, spearing her tight cunt.

No matter how many times they fucked, her cunt got tight soon after. It remained the perfect tightness. Not too loose so nothing got felt, and not too tight that he'd pop in seconds.

"Harder, stud, ram me harder. You're a bull," she encouraged him.

A hard slap rewarded her initiative.

"Nothing will be hidden now, Anri. Get ready if a crowd happens to listen in on us."

"I don't care. I'll ignore them. I only care about hearing you," she replied, lost in lust.

Each thrust spread her cunt open. Every motion milked fertile precum from the tip. Each movement made him grunt and her squeal in pleasure. One hand in her hair, and another groping the firm, medium-sized tits. Orbs full of lift, and more than enough meat to sink rough fingers into.

"Your cunt is moist, babe. It is sucking me in. Wetter than usual. You're turned on by the depravity," he teased her.

"Mmmmm, it feels so good. A slice of heaven. I need more."

"Any faster and I'll pop, and I don't want to do that. I want the full ride of your holes. I want you bow-legged walking home with me, just as much as my cum running down your milky, smooth legs."

One hand reached back, pressed up against his ab muscles. Fingertips rubbed the hard ridges. Each thrust made them flex, harden. Skin rubbing skin.

"Full ride, baby. Hardcore. If I wasn't a model, I'd let you film me as we fucked," she blurted out.

"Want to watch yourself suck me off?" he asked.

"It'd be hot," Anri grunted out. "Fuck! I just came."

Loud panting mixed with a shaking body. Face pressed against a forearm, keeping her tired body upright. She orgasmed multiple times to his once. It was never a matter of if but how many. For fifteen minutes they fucked in this position, and during those fifteen minutes Anri orgasmed three times. It pooled onto the floor, seeping into their shoes.

As Nik said, his cum would be leaking down smooth, milky legs. All the way down. One giant deposit. Loud grunts gave away the surprise. Body spasmed. Fingers gripped harder. A blast of semen fertilized an awaiting womb. Pulling out slowly, the sexual canal couldn't handle all the jizz. Globs spurted out.

Leaning against her, Nik gasped for air. It hit like a ton of bricks. His body felt good, on cloud nine. He planted a soft kiss on the side of her hair while holding her tightly.

"Thank you," she said. "You know how to treat a woman right. I'm happy you're my boyfriend."


Nik arrived at the club, early, and greeted the doorman on duty. Tonight's plan was a carbon copy of last week's. Work the club, then give Anri a call for a breakfast date, then passion.

"Nik, glad to see you again. I'm glad you didn't no-show me," Musashi called out, raising a glass from the bar counter.

"I like to think I'm a man of my word."

"A rare trait. Suit up. Same as last week. Unless you want to join me for a drink first?"

"I'll pass. Don't drink, especially at work."

"A model professional, even rarer," Musashi complimented, raising the glass in a salute before downing it. "Got a new set of pipes tonight. Might be slower. Regulars like regularity, if you get my drift."

"Right. I'll get dressed, sir."

"Don't call me sir, Nik. We're the same age. Make me feel like my old man," Musashi joked.

"Alright, Musashi. Give me a moment."

"Take your time. No rush."

The background music added an extra layer of chill, and chilling seemed to be Musashi's current motivation, Nik noticed. Similar mafia outfit, but he had an aire of Zen, like he didn't give a fuck either way.

Coming out of the office, looking smooth and debonair, Nik grabbed the clipboard.

"You know, keep this up and I might give you another raise," Musashi said.

"What am I keeping up? Am I bringing in something you're not telling me?" Nik asked.

"Got myself a gaijin as a mascot. Sets me apart. Word of mouth will spread."

"Even for a doorman?"

"Even for a doorman. You give me two intangibles. One, mystique. Got to be a high class joint to get a foreigner run the front, especially a white, beefcake foreigner. Two, your looks. You look like a tank. Customers will feel safe."

"Here is hoping it pays off. I never say no to a raise," Nik joked.

"Oh, before I forget. There is a name on the list, Hattori Ueno. When he arrives, bring him to me personally, cool?"

"No problem."

Nik leaned against the bar, admiring the scenery near the stage. A small beam strobed the area with a soft light, giving the performers an extra bit of shine and visual magic. The cozy music made the foreigner feel at peace, like he could sit and relax for hours.

"So why jazz?" Nik asked.

"Calms the nerves. Too many night clubs with raunchy music. Got to give the people choice in life. Besides, could we be holding this conversation so elegantly in a loud night club?"

"Find the talent through agents as well?"

"Sometimes. Or local fliers. I like to scout new talent. Build up a solid base for my roster."

"You must have a good rotation of doorman if you're willing to splash the cash to get me one night a week."

"I'd hire you seven nights a week, if I could," Musashi admitted.

The comment caught Nik off-guard. It also made him more suspicious.

"I've got a day job."

Musashi took a glance at his watch.

"Let me know if that changes. You're on the clock now."

Nik bowed and went off to take a seat up front. Sitting on the high stool, clipboard on the podium, he felt like a gatekeeper. Those are what doorman are. But sitting down felt like in a special position. A higher ranking.

People slowly walked in. One he recognized from the week before, smiling as he bowed to the older gentleman. New faces popped in. Zero problems. Halfway through the shift, a thin, wiry individual slinked in. Eyes like a snake, beady and unfocused. They looked around without restraint.

"Hattori Ueno," he said.

Nik remembered the name. Bowing at the gentleman, he led him towards the back office. A couple knocks elicited a response to enter.

"Musashi, Mr. Ueno is here as requested."

Nik bowed once more to the guest and then walked out. Customers came and went in the meantime. A small phone hung near the doorway wall. It connected directly to the back office. It suddenly rang, startling Nik as he never heard it used before.


"Please show our guest out," Musashi said.

Nik heard the annoyance in his voice. The Zen disappeared.

"Right away."

Inside the office, he saw the slinky man flushed. Musashi as well. Whatever they discussed didn't go well, Nik judged. The man didn't give Nik any time to bow, immediately stepping through the door and out of the club. Nik had to speed up to keep pace.

Whoever the man was, Nik figured if he needed to be escorted out, he might pose a danger to the guests. Muscle. End of the day, Nik was muscle.

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