Chapter 3 - Fumiko (Original)


 The disgruntled man on TV yelled while Fumiko scrubbed the floors of the living room on all fours. <How can they do this?> he cried. <Sleep with foreigners? And the government pays them to do it! Japanese women have no more dignity, no more shame…” 

 Fumiko was not satisfied until she left the wood spotless and shining. Her strong arms moved back and forth, the lacquered dark locks dancing along her large and healthy breasts. For housework Fumiko always wore the same tight black pants that stretched so taut that the fabric nearly became invisible and only showed her soft pale cheeks and panties. It was a delightful sight for any man, though her husband was at home from dawn till dusk, sometimes working until he came home at one or two in the morning, so exhausted that he just took off his blazer, dropped into bed and passed out. Her daughter was also at school, then practice, then cram school, till late in the evening.

 This left Fumiko alone for most of the day and happy to put her energies into helping Japan’s declining birth rates. It had been known for decades that there was no hope of a good future with the aging population, and the sort of stuff that made the news was always bad: Japanese men were underachieving compared to women, many of them were virgins that had never approached a person of the opposite sex, infertility rates among them were skyrocketing even at an early age, and research showed that wives were unhappy with their performance. And for the ones that were handsome and good in bed, their successful careers still meant that they were practically absent apart from their days off or holidays. 

 Importing immigrants to pick up the slack was necessary. The government had tried at first to offer couples payments for every child they had, but even that was not enough. Eventually they gave up and did what was recommended by Germany and other European countries: hiring African bulls that could breed every willing Japanese woman. 

 The idea was seen as so preposterous by most that there were countless jokes on TV that the poor guys would end up jerking each other off or going gay because of how few Japanese women wanted to engage. But even as they laughed it off, data showed that native women were not only willing to try the new men but highly receptive to the idea.

 Fumiko remembered the first time she checked the local branch in her small town with bated breath to see what African bulls were available. Two of them were young and very muscular; but she preferred the third that was a little older and had a gentlemanly face that almost reminded her of her own father if not for the difference in race. 

 At first her heart beat so fast that she dared not click to set up an appointment. In the end, it was her husband Oda that scheduled it and insisted she go ahead with it. “You deserve some attention,” he told her, squeezing her against his chest. Fumiko was so impressed with his loving nature that she fell asleep cradling him and holding his hand that night. 

 The next day, Oda took a rare day off from work to assist her with her first encounter. The bull showed up around noon, right on time. His name was Marcell, and he spoke fluent Japanese though his native language was French. His perfume was intensely cool and masculine. Through his suit pants, the Japanese couple noticed his immense cock dangling from the very beginning.

 Fumiko was never going to forget that first awkward time… The way she gasped weakly as Marcell touched her and how Oda held her hand through the ordeal. When the bull carried her to bed and fucked her lights out, it felt so intense and painful that it was like losing her virginity for the first time. She could tell that her husband might have been having second thoughts or regrets as Marcell pounded her in their wedding bed, but the moment to stop it had long passed. It’s to help our country, Fumiko thought to dispel any possible guilt associated with the act. 

 And Fumiko learned that she truly loved her country. That there was really nothing she wanted more in life than to work hard for Japan’s future.

 But that was over a month ago. 

 Now, Fumiko stood up to inspect the floor of the living room and was pleased with the way the morning light shimmered in it. That’ll do, she thought happily. 

 Then she headed over and took a shower in preparation for Marcell’s arrival. He didn’t like it when she went out of her way to wear fancy clothes, so she just wore a tight yellow sweater that left her tummy slightly uncovered and some jeans. 

 He was always punctual, and she timed the lunch for it. She shuddered when the doorbell rang and went to answer. Surely enough, there he stood, almost two meters tall, dressed as always in a sleek suit, with just a shadow of a grey beard showing across his cheeks. Marcell held out a bouquet of flowers. “For you, madame.” 

 Fumiko smiled and got up on tip toes to steal a kiss from him. “Bienvenue, mon amour.”

 Marcell grinned and gave her a gentle slap on the butt. “You’re getting better at your pronunciation.” 

 She sat him down for dinner and put her flowers in water, then presented him with her finished tamagoyaki. “I hope you like them, it’s my mother’s special recipe.” But despite her excitement, he eyed them with hesitation. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, no, it’s just… I’ve already eaten at Ayaka-chan’s place.” 

 That bitch. Fumiko fumed. At first it seemed like a relief that Marcell would be seeing all these women and that there wouldn’t be anything romantic between them. Now, though, it was becoming difficult. Fumiko realized that she truly wanted the bull all to herself, and just hearing about him going to others made her feel upset.

“Fine then,” she said grumpily. “I’ll leave them for my husband.”

 Marcell noticed her souring and put his arm around her. “Actually, never mind. I’m hungry after all.” He took a bite from the tamagoyaki and made a face. “Mmm, so good. Délicieux. Merci, mon beau.”

 Fumiko knew she was pulling the tantrums of a little girl but to see him go so far just to please her made her happy. A few bites were enough. Putting her arms around him, she brushed her breasts along his arm. “Well, are you ready to make love to me?”

 Only when he sat down were they somewhat at eye level. Marcell kissed her and pulled her close, moving his fingers down her spine until they reached the curve of her butt. His hand alone was big enough that it could squeeze the entirety of her plump Japanese butt with ease. 

 The moment he stood up in the full glory of his height, Fumiko gulped and looked up at him with a fast-beating heart and tingles in her pussy. This is a real man, she thought, unable to look at all the tiny and infantile Japanese men around her in the same way. When had first learned she was having a girl she was disappointed to let down her husband and his family; in retrospect, it was a divine blessing that it was another fertile Japanese womb she brought into the world that would be filled with strong African seed and not some impotent joke of a Japanese “male.”

 These sorts of considerations had never been with her at the start, except maybe in the bottomless depths of her subconscious. But now she thought about the predicament of her country all the time, and the reality was that to make Japan great and strong, Japanese men needed to be replaced, and she promised to make at least three strong Afro-Japanese boys for the next generation. I’m doing my part… for Japan. 

 Marcell scooped her up in his arms and Fumiko climbed on him like an energetic little monkey, seeking to kiss his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his face - everything. 

 He took her over to the bedroom and gently placed her on the bed, then undressed himself slowly as she watched. Fumiko always thought he had a flair for the theatrical, and she loved it.

When the muscular black body was fully revealed to her like some ancient Greek sculpture, she crawled over to the edge of the bed and leaned in to give his dick a kiss. It was still soft, but already five times the size of her husband’s. As a teen Fumiko thought dicks were gross - even considered that she might be a lesbian - but she realized with Marcell coming into her life just how beautiful they were. 

 Her small pale hands lifted the chocolate dick to her lips as her eyes watched him. “Let me worship you,” she said. 

 Marcell petted her on the head. “Go ahead, Fumiko-chan. But just so you know, we only have half an hour. It’s a crowded day.” 

“Don’t ruin the mood with stuff like that…” she whispered with frustration. 

 Jokingly angry, Fumiko dragged him into the bed. It was Oda that wanted them to have a Western-style just like the one he grew up sleeping in (she was used to a simple futon), but Fumiko had come to love the way it creaked when Marcell fucked her brains out. 

 The patriotic Japanese wife ran her fingers over his well-defined abs and kissed his strong thighs. Her mouth eventually made her way to his dick and took the head into her mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop as her hands caressed and stroked the shaft. 

 Marcell stroked her cheek lovingly. Fumiko was so addicted to his touch that she instinctively pressed against his hand. “You’re such a good little slut,” said Marcell. “Your husband made the right choice.” 

 A naughty smile played across her lips. “I’m going to give him many African babies.” 

 The shaft hardened under her touch and soon Fumiko was licking its entire veiny length from the tip all the way down to his balls. Not in all their married years had she tended to Oda’s balls, but Marcell had wanted his sucked from the start, and now she gladly slurped them into her mouth to make him happy. African men were doing a great service for Japan. It was the duty of Japanese women to serve them in any way they demanded.

“That’s good…” he said in a deep voice. “So good…” 

 Fumiko smiled and kissed the head a few more times, then stood up on the bed. She peeled off her clothes until she was naked, then pushed her pussy’s lips apart and showed him the way it was already dripping. “This is me whenever I think about you.”

“Oh?” Marcell’s eyebrows went up. “And how often do you think about me?”

 Fumiko blushed like a dumb school girl and bit her lip. “All the time, sir.” 

 Marcell motioned her to get down so she went to him eagerly. He kissed her and played with her big tits, massaging them between his strong black fingers. Fumiko could not keep her hands off his big black cock and kept glancing down at it even as they made out, noticing with joy that it had grown almost to its full length. 

 Her tiny legs straddled him and then she brought her body above the throbbing head, lowering herself towards impalement as their gazes locked. 

 As always, there was a bit of pain with getting it in and Fumiko groaned loudly. But the moment it slipped in her pussy relaxed and opened up for him, her juices flowing down over the powerful shaft as it buried itself into the depths of her toy-sized Japanese body. 

 Marcell seized her by the waist and started moving her up and down, gently thrusting from below as she once got used to the size of him inside of her. Fumiko could feel the cock in the depths of her stomach and rolled her eyes in pleasure, already cooing and moaning from what it was doing to her. “You’re so amazing~” she said, totally awestruck. 

 Though it was the bull leading at the start, as soon as Fumiko the rhythm of it she took control. Holding onto his wrists for balance, she grinded against his cock and felt it as if it reached throughout her entire body. It’s so wonderful. How could anyone not want this? 

 Marcell remained calm, but for her the sessions were almost a quasi-religious experience with how deep and overwhelming her feelings were. She got lost in the pleasure of a big black cock, giving herself entirely to the moment as her inferior Japanese pussy wrapped around his strong shaft and submitted to a superior race. 

 Her hands moved over his muscles, her ass wiggled as she moved, and her tits bounced up and down along with her body as she sought to drive the dick deeper, ever deeper despite its extreme size. To impale herself on that kingly ebony rod felt to Fumiko like her life’s greatest calling. Her destiny. I was made to be blacked, she thought proudly, realizing no moment in her life was ever as joyful or as fulfilling. 

 As always, she became a sweaty and shaking mess just after ten minutes of that, and then it came to Marcell to take up the rest. Seeing that she was losing control, the bull brought her in for a deep kiss, then gently took her off and placed her down next to him. 

 He gave her a few minutes to unwind as she stroked him, then sat up behind her. Fumiko buried her face in the pillows and raised her ass in preparation. “Fuck me, sir!” she said through gritted teeth, smacking her own ass as hard as she could. Parting her thighs, she spread her pink pussy as wide as she could with her fingers. “Claim what’s yours. Breed this Japanese pussy. It’s African property now.” 

 Marcell smacked her ass proudly. “You’re such a good girl, Fumiko. I’m glad we found our way to one another.” In his tone she could hear the voice of her father and knowing she had the approval of an older, smarter, stronger man gave her butterflies. 

 He slammed into her from behind without mercy, his hands pressing her back down in advance knowing that her body would attempt to jerk away from the sudden violence done to her pussy. 

 Fumiko bit into the pillow and happily accepted his frenzied thrusts, massaging her pussy lips the entire time. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me~” she chanted with eager grunts. 

 Marcell pushed into her with the entire force of his body and his balls slapping against her with each thrust. His body was so much bigger and stronger that for Fumiko it was not only his size that did the trick, but the insane power she could feel coming down from his muscles down through his cock and exploding directly in her pussy. 

 Though it felt like being torn apart, her pussy was strangely resilient to all the hard fucking, and for that she was grateful. It was yet another quality that suggested to her breeding with African bulls was exactly what Japanese women had evolved to do.  

 Fumiko came and howled into her pillows, but Marcell continued his assault on her tight little hole with the same determination, pistoning her with extreme force as all his bulging muscles dripped with hot sweat.

 Marcell slapped her ass hard. “I’m going to come inside of you. You want that?” He dropped his weight on top of her and searched for her mouth to kiss. Fumiko could feel his hot seed pouring into her before the kiss started. But it was that much sweeter once she knew that his baby batter was already inside of her and that it would hopefully take root inside of her today.

“Thank you,” she told him. “Merci~”

 Marcell grinded his cock inside of her and let her hungry pussy milk out every drop. Only after a couple of minutes after the cum had settled did he finally pull out and drop on his back. Fumiko put a hand over her pussy to stop the flow of seed but crawled to his dick to clean it up. The seed combined with her juices made it taste even better. 

 As she kissed the shaft in worship, she could see Marcell checking his golden watch. “Time to go?” she asked sadly.

“Almost…” he said. “Got five more minutes.” 

 Fumiko got next to him and hugged him, putting her leg around him. “Or maybe you can stay. Maybe you’ve had an accident and you can’t make it.”

 His look was sweet, but his hand moved her leg away. “You know I’d love to stay, but other girls are counting on me. Imagine if you were waiting for me a whole day and then I cancelled.” 

 He was right, of course. But that didn’t make it any better. “It’s just not enough…” she protested. “Half an hour isn’t enough.”

“Well, maybe next week I can squeeze in a whole hour. How long is enough?” 

 Fumiko grinned and nipped his lip lovingly. “Forever.” She giggled and caressed the grey beard on his cheeks. “But I suppose an hour will have to do.” 

 As he got dressed, she covered herself in a blanket and held her tummy. His seed was still hot. Fumiko could feel it inside of her and clamped her thighs shut. 

“Relax,” he told her. “I can see myself out.” 

“It’s going to be a boy. I can feel it…” 
 Marcell leaned in and gave her a final sweet kiss before he left. “Congratulate your husband for me.”
