Young Asian MILF is coerced by son’s arrogant white friend

Young Asian MILF is coerced by son’s arrogant white friend

My name is Nikki Kim. I’m Korean American, second generation, born and raised in Los Angeles. I have two children, both boys. At the time of this story, I was 34-years-old, my older son was 14, and his younger brother was 11.

As you can probably tell from those ages, I got married quite young for a girl of my generation, but not so young when you consider the community I grew up in. Like a lot of Korean immigrants, the Korean church played a major role in my upbringing. Neither of my parents were particularly religious, but they were both very culturally conservative when it came to adopting American values. As a result, church or school made up basically all of my social life growing up, and the rest of my free time was spent helping out at the little hole-in-the-wall noodle restaurant they ran in LA’s Koreatown neighborhood.

I was never very rebellious growing up, perhaps because my older sister was rebel enough for both of us. She was four years older than me, and throughout my childhood, most of my memories of her involve her fighting with my parents. She used to get into these epic screaming matches with my Mom about the way she dressed, her hair and makeup, her friends and her spending and her schoolwork. But the biggest blowouts always had to do with boys.

Technically, my sister wasn’t allowed to date at all, but my parents might have let things slide a bit if she’d been going to get patbingsu or tteokbokki after church with some nice Christian Korean boy. Instead, she was constantly sneaking out of the house and climbing into cars driven by white guys that she had met god knows where.

Once, when I was around 13, I asked my Dad why he and Mom were always so angry at her.

“Your sister is brainwashed,” he said solemnly. “White boys, they’ll say or do whatever it takes to get what they want. We try to tell her, ‘You can’t trust them,’ but she never listens.”

“But what do they want, appa?”

“Don’t ask such questions,” he grunted, turning away.

After watching my sister go to war with my parents on a daily basis, I did everything I could to be the perfect daughter. I studied hard, helped out at the restaurant, and steered clear of the white boys I sometimes saw looking at me in the hallways at school.

I guess I should say now that my sister and I are both very pretty. I know that Koreans are supposed to be very modest and all, but of the Seven Deadly Sins, I’ve always been the most susceptible to Pride, and specifically vanity. I’m aware of the way that men look at me, and I know these details are especially relevant to this particular story.

I have the kind of natural features that many women in Korea try to achieve through plastic surgery. My face is heart-shaped, tapering gracefully along my jawline to my delicate, pointed chin. My nose is with a dainty and upturned, a little button at the bottom of a narrow bridge. My lips are full and pouty, which I like to accentuate with various shades of lipstick. Pretty makeup and cute clothes are two of my biggest indulgences, but they’re easy to justify to my husband because he feels that he’s the real beneficiary.

These days, I wear my dark, silky hair in long, light-brown waves streaked with soft, amber highlights. I have dark, almond shaped eyes and clear, soft skin that takes on the color of milk tea when I’m tan.

I’m about 5’4, and like most women who live in LA, I work hard to keep myself in shape. Thanks mostly to daily jogging and yoga, I’m proud to say that I wear the same size jeans (2) as I did before my older son Danny was born.

However, becoming a mom did change my body in a different way that my husband certainly appreciates.

When I first met Steve, we were both students at Santa Monica Community College. Like me, Steve is a second-generation Korean American and a Christian. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met and handsome to boot. I fell for him right away. We dated for about six months before he proposed, and we got married right after we graduated from SMCC.

After graduation, Steve transferred to UCLA to get his bachelor’s in engineering, but I got pregnant soon after we got married. This was actually what I’d been hoping for: I’d always wanted to be a mom, so much so that it almost felt like this child was my destiny. I planned excitedly for his arrival as my belly grew, my breasts growing larger as well, swelling from a modest 32B to a fully loaded 34D that looked even larger on my petite Korean frame.

At first, I was embarrassed of my large breasts, and I tried hiding them with pregnancy dresses and loose-fitting clothing. But Steve seemed to love my big tits, frequently joking that he didn’t realize babies came with a free boob job. I told Steve that my boobs wouldn’t belong to him once the baby was born, but that actually turned out not to be the case, because neither Danny nor his brother would breastfeed. We tried with each of them, but eventually, we just resigned ourselves to using the bottle. This might be part of the reason why my boobs never returned to their former size. More than ten years later, I still wear a 34D bra, and Steve still can’t stop congratulating himself for landing a wife whose tits got bigger after the wedding instead of her waist.

But I can’t stall any longer before I tell you about my older son, Danny. My sweet, beautiful, incredible Danny.

Danny is the on autism spectrum. The first few years of his life, he was practically nonverbal. Those early years, before he was diagnosed, were the worst of my life. I did everything, tried everything, to get my son to open up, and nothing worked. I never knew I could feel like such a failure. I wasn’t even 21-years-old when Danny was born, and I felt completely in over my head.

Things seemed hopeless, but when Danny was finally diagnosed, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I knew what was going on, and I was going to try everything in power not to let it rob Danny of the life I wanted for him.

We tried so many things. and then one day, Danny picked up a Rubik’s Cube in the waiting room at his doctor’s office. It was almost magical watching him with it–I still get chills when I think about it.

I’d never seen my son show so much interest in… anything. His level of focus as he manipulated the cube, spinning the rows from one side to the other, was absolute. No one had told him what the rules were, but he seemed to understand intuitively that the same colors go together.

I pulled out my phone and bought him his first Rubik’s Cube that very minute. When I got home, I looked up how to solve it, and spent the weekend watching YouTube videos with Danny so that we could learn how to solve it.

Today, 11 years later, Danny is among the fastest Rubik’s Cube players in the world.

The progress he’s made has been incredible to watch, and not just as a Rubik’s Cube champion. I had no idea about this when Danny started, but there are actually whole communities and competitions that bring people together. People will travel the world to play this game, and Danny has. For a kid with developing social skills like him, meeting friends like this has been a godsend.

Of course, it’s also how Johan entered his life, and mine.

Before they’d ever even met, Danny idolized Johan. We’d found him on YouTube, where he posted videos of him speed cubing in front of his webcam. Danny had never seen anything like it. Johan was solving these puzzles in seconds, sometimes one-handed, sometimes blindfolded. It was like he was some kind of sorcerer on the screen, casting his spell over the cube, and by extension my son and me. As I made dinner, I would watch over Danny’s shoulder as he sat in front of his iPad, playing with his cube, trying to solve the puzzle as fast as this blond German boy living in South Africa.

As Danny watched more and more videos, I came to know a bit more about Johan.

He was five years older than Danny, the son of a German diplomat and his South African wife living in Praetoria. He was the reigning champion and world record holder in several speed cubing events, including the coveted 3×3 title. In addition, his YouTube videos were wildly popular, and he was probably as close to being a celebrity as you can be solving a Rubik’s Cube. To Danny, whose whole world revolved around the Rubik’s Cube, Johan was practically a god.

Of course, he was still just a shy, gawky 13-year-old when Danny met him for the first time at a tournament.

The thing that impressed me more than Johan’s cubing was the kindness that he showed to Danny. He was so generous towards him, gracious even, in a way that teenage boys rarely are. He befriended Danny despite his autism, and despite the age difference between them. They were bonded by this shared love of speed cubing.

Or so it seemed. I don’t really know anymore. After what happened, I can’t stop second guessing things.

Johan and Danny became closer and closer friends, talking online, seeing each other regularly at tournaments. And Johan was more than just Danny’s best friend: he was his mentor, his rival, his older brother.

And the closer they became as friends, the faster Danny got with the cube in his hands. Pretty soon, my son was the one setting records and winning world championships, and Johan was coming in second… or worse. After a few years of this, Danny had broken almost all of Johan’s world records, except one: the 3×3.

The reason that the 3×3 is such a big deal in speed cubing is that the 3×3 cube is the classic, iconic Rubik’s Cube that everyone remembers. They make cubes in lots of other sizes, but they’re mostly only used by people like Danny and Johan who cube competitively. The 3×3 cube is the one on people’s desks, their lab benches, their bedside tables.

That year, the World Championships were in Australia. Usually, the entire family would come to these events, but tickets to Australia were breathtakingly expensive, and Steve had to work, and my younger son Riley had baseball. So Steve and Riley stayed in Los Angeles, and for the first time, Danny and I traveled by ourselves to a Rubik’s Cube tournament overseas.

When we arrived in Sydney, there were a variety of social events set up for the cubers and their families to do outside of the championship themselves. The first was an ice cream social kickoff at Bondi Beach.

I always go with Danny to these events because they’re the best opportunity for him to socialize with people in real life. But because some people aren’t sure how to talk to Danny, they’ll approach me instead, and I help redirect them towards talking to him.

Of course, traveling alone with Danny can be distracting, and I knew I would forget something. As soon as we unpacked at the hotel, I realized I’d left my beach bag in the backseat of our car at LAX.

We were late and I was rushing, so I stopped into the boutique in the hotel lobby on our way out the door.

“Do you have any one-piece bathing suits?” I asked hurriedly.

“No, I’m sorry,” said the pretty blonde teen behind the counter. “They’re all bikinis.”

“Welcome to Australia,” I laughed.

“Pretty much,” the girl smiled.

“Do you have that the coral one in a size small?” I asked.

“No, but we have extra small,” she said. “Better for you anyway.”

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah,” the girl laughed, and I paid her for the suit.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Bondi Beach, and I could see that the girl really wasn’t kidding: of the thousands of women milling about on the sand and in the surf, I saw a few topless women, but I didn’t see a single one-piece suit.

I walked over to the changing huts with Danny.

“Go get into your swimsuit, honey,” I said, pointing towards the men’s hut. “I’ll meet you right back here in a few minutes, okay?”

Danny nodded, and walked off with his own beach bag, which I had obviously remembered to pack.

As soon as I was inside the changing hut, though, I felt a moment of panic. The extra small suit the shopgirl had sold me was… extra small.

The bottoms fit well enough, and for the old me, extra small would’ve been just fine. But even after years of walking around with them, I still forget sometimes that I’m a 34D now (not a 32B).

I managed to get the clasp to close, but when I looked in the mirror, I saw myself practically spilling out of the top. Thankfully, you couldn’t see my nipples, which I figured would be enough given that I’d seen topless girls walking around out there.

But Steve would like this top, I thought. I felt so sorry that he wasn’t able to come with us to Australia. Maybe I should do something nice for him.

I held my phone up, and impulsively, I pulled down one of the cups, letting my nipple spring free. I looked away, feigning embarrassment, and snapped a selfie. I flipped open my chat with Steve, and before I lost my nerve, I pressed send. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sent him a dirty photo, but it had been years, at least.

With a shiver of excitement, I slid my phone into my bag and walked back outside to find Danny. He wasn’t outside the changing hut, so I began scanning the beach, looking for him.

“Hi, Mrs. Kim,” I heard a voice say. “Do you need some help?”

I turned around, and there was Johan, looking not at all like I remembered him.

“Are you looking for Danny?” he asked, his English lightly accented with an appealing melange of German and South African inflections.

“Johan, is that you?” I said with surprise. “You look so different.”

“It’s been awhile,” he nodded.

I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d seen Johan, but it had to have been at least 3 years. He’d been a tall, awkward 16-year-old back then. Now, he’d started growing into his height, filling out a lean frame that towered several inches above me.

He’d cut the tousled, boyish mop top I remembered into a tight, clean crewcut that felt almost military. His youthful features had sharpened into angular corners that cut against his cheekbones and jawline.

“What year are you in school now?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder to keep an eye out for Danny.

“Sophomore,” he said. “In college.”

“Wow, college,” I nodded. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes flashing downwards momentarily before returning to meet my own. “Congratulations to you, too.”

“For what?” I asked.

“All of Danny’s championships,” Johan said. “His records. You must be proud.”

“I am,” I said, beaming. “But he’s only come this far because of you, Johan.”

“You had something to do with it,” he smiled.

“Aww,” I said, surprised at him. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Here’s Danny now,” Johan said, pointing as my son emerged from the changing hut.

He walked over to greet Danny, giving him a hug. He was one of the only people who Danny would let hug him.

Then, the three of us walked over and got in line for some ice cream.

“Where’s Riley?” Johan asked as we waited.

“Home,” Danny said quietly.

“Why’s that?” he replied, looking at me for an answer.

“Riley had a baseball tournament, so he couldn’t make it,” I said, reminding Danny as much as answering Johan. “You’re both so busy these days.”

“Does that mean Mr. Kim isn’t here?” Johan asked, a strange look crossing his face. “He didn’t come?”

“Not this time,” I said.

“It’s just the two of you, then?” Johan said, his voice dropping an octave.

“Just the two of us,” I nodded, wrapping my arm around Danny.

“Well, my family isn’t here either,” he said, glancing at my son and then back at me. “Danny should feel lucky that at least you came to look after him.”

“Wait, you’re here by yourself?” I said, furrowing my brow. “Really?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Then you should join us for dinner tonight,” I said. “You’re practically Danny’s older brother. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Johan smiled. His teeth were bright and white, like a wolf.

That night, the three of us went out to a pizza place near the hotel. I was taken a bit by surprise when Johan ordered a beer.

“He’s too young for that,” I said reflexively to the server.

“She’s incorrect,” he said, pulling out his ID card.

The server looked at his card, nodded, and handed it back to him.

“The drinking age here is 18,” he smiled. “I turned 19 a few months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hand over my mouth. “It’s 21 in America! I completely forgot where we are.”

“Would you like something to drink, miss?” the server asked.

“Just water for us,” I said.

“No, c’mon,” Johan said. “I haven’t seen Danny since he broke my record in the 4×4. You can’t toast with water. It’s considered bad luck.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay, well… Danny, what do you want?”

“Coke,” he said softly. “Please.”

“One Coke, and one…” I looked down at the drink menu.

“One Coke and two beers,” Johan said, collecting the menus and handing them to the server.

“Did you just order for me?” I asked, a little shocked. “I… I don’t really drink beer.”

“Just for the toast,” Johan said. “Then I’ll drink it, if you don’t want it.”

“Should you be drinking the night before the tournament?” I asked.

“No,” Johan laughed. “But it doesn’t matter, but I don’t think anything is stopping this guy right here.”

“You hear that, Danny?” I said, giving my son a nudge. “Johan said something nice about you, so you should say something nice back.”

“Thank you,” Danny answered.

“Anyway,” I said, “One beer each, but that’s it. Tournament or not, it’s still a school night.”

It turns out one beer was all it took for me to get tipsy. As we walked back to the hotel, I felt the warm Sydney air caress my body, my nervousness temporarily forgotten.

This tournament was a big deal for Danny. He was the favorite for almost all of the events, and people expected him to break Johan’s 3×3 record on the third and final day of the tournament. Danny himself expected that he was going to break the record. With all that pressure, I knew that if he didn’t perform well, he would be crushed.

Arriving back at the hotel, I the three of us rode the elevator up to the 11th floor, which was where many of the cubers were staying in a hotel block.

“Well, that was a fun dinner, Johan,” I smiled.

I leaned forward to give him a hug goodnight, but I wasn’t prepare for the way that his long, lean arms wrapped around me.

“I need to speak with you, Mrs. Kim,” he said softly. “It’s about Danny.”

I began to pull back from the hug, but his arms held me there for several extra seconds. He was several inches taller than me, so my head was about at his shoulder height.

“What do you mean?” It was an innocent question, but somehow, the fact that his arms were still around me made it feel somehow conspiratorial.

“Let’s talk in my room,” he said, still holding me.

“I need to help Danny get ready for bed,” I said, trying again to pull away.

Finally, he released me. I took a step backwards.

“Afterwards, then,” he said. “This is important, Mrs. Kim.”

“Uhh, okay,” I stammered, looking at Johan a little cockeyed. “What… what room number are you in?”

The words felt strange and uncomfortable as they left my mouth.

“1134,” he said.

“1134,” I repeated, nodding. “Okay.”

Back in our room, as I helped Danny get set up for bed, an uneasy feeling passed over me. Johan had been acting strangely during dinner, paying less attention to Danny than he usually did, and now he wanted to talk with me about him. I felt anxious, wondering if something was going on between the two of them.

After Danny was in bed, I stepped quietly out into the hallway. As I walked down the corridor towards Johan’s room, I tried to reassure myself that this wasn’t going to be anything to worry about. I needed tomorrow to go smoothly for Danny. He had invested so much of himself into this tournament, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him being letdown.

As soon as I knocked on the door, it swung open. Johan was standing in the doorway, tall and blonde and Germanic, wearing a white t-shirt and running shorts. He was holding another beer.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“Are you still drinking?” I said, looking askance at him. “Is that a good idea?”

He shrugged, turning around and beckoning me to come in. I followed him into the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

Johan sat down on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. He gestured for me to sit next to him, but I shook my head and remained standing.

“It’s late,” I said, looking down at my Apple Watch. “What’s this about Danny?”

Johan sighed.

“It’s not easy,” he said.

“What isn’t?” I said, my heart falling into my stomach.

“Being friends,” he said. “With Danny.”

I wanted to disagree, but I bit my tongue because I knew it was true.

“I… I’ve really tried,” Johan said, sipping his beer.

“I know you have,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “And my husband and I, we’re so, so grateful to you. You’re the best friend that Danny’s ever had.”

“I try to be the bigger man,” Johan continued. “But it’s hard.”

I stood quietly, waiting for him to go on.

“He’s taken a lot from me, you know,” he said. “Championships, world records… soon, probably my last one.”

“But everybody loves you,” I said, trying to control my emotions. “You’ll always be a champion, Johan, no matter what Danny does.”

“I’ve given Danny a lot, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, looking at me. “But I haven’t gotten enough in return.”

“I know,” I said, folding my hands over my heart. “Believe me, I know what that feels like. To love him so much it hurts, to give him everything you possibly can and… most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s supposed to say thank you. I know… I know how hard it can be sometimes.”

“You have to keep doing it because you’re his mom,” Johan said, sipping his beer. “But I can’t.”

“Johan, please,” I said, clasping my hands. “He really needs you as a friend during this tournament. It would crush him.”

Johan looked at me. He turned the beer can upright, emptying its contents into his mouth.

“I think I need… some incentive,” he said, setting the can down on the bedside table.

“What do you mean?” I asked tentatively.

“What can you give me?” he asked back.

I paused. I was still a little tipsy from the beer and it suddenly felt like the room had gotten much smaller around me.

“What do you want?” I asked nervously.

“What do I want?” he mused to himself, looking out the window. “What do I want?”

He scratched his chin contemplatively, then turned towards me.

“I want to call you Nikki,” he said. “Not Mrs. Kim.”

“Uhh, okay,” I said, feeling a little uneasy. “You can call me Nikki, if you want.”

“And I want your phone number,” he said.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head.

“Why not?” he said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Why do you want it?” I asked suspiciously.

“So I can text you,” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think we should be doing that,” I said hesitantly, feeling uncomfortable but trying not to upset him. “That’s… that’s not really appropriate.”

“What’s inappropriate about it?” he asked, his voice innocent but his eyes narrow.

“It just… feels like a bad idea to me.”

“You said I was like Danny’s other brother,” he pushed, sitting up on the bed. “Does Riley have your number?”

“That’s different,” I said crossly. “And you know it.”

“You’re right, it is different, because Danny’s not really my brother,” Johan said, standing up. “Which means I don’t have to keep being nice to him.”

“Johan, please,” I pleaded. “He really needs you as a friend.”

“Nikki, stop making a big deal out of this,” he said, sticking his palm out. “Just give me your phone for a second.”

I was distraught. If Johan was really going to stop being friends with Danny… this whole tournament could turn from a dream to a nightmare. He had that kind of influence over my son.

Without thinking, I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.

“What are you going to do with it?” I murmured.

“Relax, Nikki,” he said, rolling his eyes again. “I’m just going to put my number in and send myself a text.”

Before I could say anything, he plucked the phone out of my hand.

“Hey, give that back!” I said. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

He turned the camera to face me and held it up, using FaceID to unlock it.

“Johan, I said give it back,” I reached for it. “I’m not kidding around. That’s my private property!”

“Chill,” he said, holding it away from me. “I’m just going to put my number in, and…”

Suddenly, he paused. The screen was facing away from me, so I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but I saw his smirk widen into that same wolfish grin.

“OHMYGOD,” I yelled, instantly remembering the photo I’d sent to Steve earlier that day. “GIVE IT BACK, JOHAN!”

“One second,” he said, lifting the phone out of my reach as I lunged for it. “And… there. Done.”

He locked the screen and handed it back to me.

“What did you do, Johan?” I said, hurriedly unlocking the phone.

“I sent myself a text,” he chuckled. “Just like I told you I would.”

“Delete it,” I said, as I heard his own phone buzz inside his pocket. “I’m serious, Johan. Delete it right now.”

“Delete what?” he asked coyly.

“I’m not playing games with you,” I said coldly. “That’s not for you. Delete it right now.”

“This,” he grinned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “This is incentive.”

“That was a private message, which I sent to my husband,” I said, getting flustered. “You have no right to look at it. Delete it right now.”

“If I do… what will you give me in return?” he asked, standing up slowly and beginning to move towards me. “As an… incentive.”

“You–I… I’m… I’m leaving,” I said, backing away from him towards the door. “You need to delete that photo, Johan.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I think I might do something else with it first.”

I saw him begin to reach for the waistband of his running shorts.

“Ohmygod,” I screamed, putting my hands in front of my face. I turned and threw the door open, slamming it shut behind me as I plunged back out into the hallway and ran off down the corridor.

My heart was pounding, so rather than return to my room and risk waking Danny, I got in the elevator and headed back down to the lobby. Then, I called Steve.

“Hey, mate,” he said, answering the phone in a cheery Australian accent despite the fact that I’d surely woken him up. “What time is it Down Under?”

“It’s pretty late,” I muttered, my thoughts racing. “I know it’s the middle of the night for you.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “How’s Danny doing?”

“He’s asleep,” I said.

“Good, good,” he said. “How are you feeling? About tomorrow?”

“I’m really nervous,” I blurted. “There’s… there’s something wrong with Johan.”

“With Johan?” Steve said, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“He’s just behaving… really strangely,” I said. “He’s being kind of rude, and I’m worried that it’s going to affect Danny.”

“They’re just kids, Nikki,” he said reassuringly. “They get into arguments, then they forget about them.”

“But that’s the problem,” I protested. “Danny’s still a kid, but Johan… isn’t.”

“Look,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a problem, but even if it is, I’m not worried, because you’re our #1 problem solver.”

“So what I am supposed to do, Steve?” I said, my voice raising an octave. “Anytime Danny is having problems with a friend, I’m the one who is just supposed to solve them?”

“Don’t talk like that,” he chastised me softly. “He’s only made this much progress because you help him solve the problems that he isn’t ready to solve by himself yet. But he’s getting there, Nikki.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I know he is, but I…”

“Just do your best for him,” Steve said. “That’s all you can do, and it’s all that Danny could ask for.”

“Okay,” I whispered meekly. “I’ll… try.”

“By the way,” Steve said, his voice dropping seductively. “I like the souvenir you bought earlier.”

“Steve, you deleted that photo, right?” I said quickly.

“Are you crazy?” he laughed. “No way!”

“Steve, you have to delete it right now,” I insisted. “If Riley gets ahold of your phone, he could see it.”

“Babe, he won’t,” Steve said.

“Just… please delete it, okay?” I said. “I’ll feel better knowing it’s gone.”

“Okay, fine,” Steve sighed. “But only if you show me in person when you get back.”

I barely slept at all that night, tossing and turning silently, trying not to wake up Danny as he slept in the bed beside mine.

The whole thing was so surreal. I just couldn’t fathom that Danny’s friend would hit on me like that. The mere fact was so shocking to me that I’d been in denial about it practically the entire day, making up excuses for what Johan had said and how he’d been looking at me. But these excuses had led me into a situation where this younger man, this 19-year-old German boy from South Africa, had somehow managed to gain the upper hand.

How had that happened so quickly? How was it even possible? In the middle of the night, it seemed like it had to have been a nightmare.

But the next day I awoke to find that it was all too real. There, waiting on my phone, were two messages.

One was from Steve: “GOOD LUCK TODAY”

The other was from Johan: “Send pussy”

Immediately, I deleted the message and blocked the number, but I was completely rattled, and I knew Danny would be able to sense it.

All things considered, I managed to hold things together, but only just barely. I was a shell of myself, struggling to stay present, anxiety prickling the back of neck as I tried to stay positive and be Danny’s support system. But I was barely there, paralyzed by fear and completely distracted by thoughts of what Johan might do next.

The day started off okay, with Danny playing well. But as it wore on, it became increasingly clear that Johan was icing him out. They didn’t sit together at lunch, and Johan conspicuously gave Danny the cold shoulder after he won his first few events. The worst thing about it was that Danny had no idea what was going on, and there was no way that I could explain it to him. For most boys Danny’s age, this would be a minor matter, but for my son–with everything that Johan meant to him–I knew it was devastating.

I’d avoided Johan all day, but by that evening, I could tell Danny was on the verge of a total meltdown. He had survived the first day in decent position, but the next day of the championships would be critical, as they would determine whether he would defend his world championship titles in the 4×4 and 5×5 events.

Sitting in our hotel room, watching Danny fumble morosely with his cube, I felt that same sense of failure that I’d felt during the early years before his diagnosis. I knew that my son was in pain, but I felt powerless to help him.

Except… I knew I wasn’t powerless. And that was the problem.

Hesitantly, I picked up my phone and unblocked the number from that morning.

“Have dinner with us,” I wrote. “Danny really needs to know you’re still rooting for him.”

Instantly, I saw the three bubbles, showing that Johan was typing.

My phone dinged. It was an eye-rolling emoji.

I took a deep breath.

“You can keep the photo,” I wrote reluctantly. “Just don’t share it with anyone. And be kind to my son for the next two days, okay?”

More bubbles. And then:

“Send pussy”

“No,” I wrote back frantically. “I’m married.”

Eye-roll emoji.

“Why are you doing this to Danny?” I wrote. “Why are you doing this to me???”

Devil horns emoji.

I felt myself tearing up, but I knew I couldn’t let Danny see me cry. I got up, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, trying to steel myself.

“Have dinner with Danny,” I wrote. “Be a good friend. Then we can talk.”

“What we’ll talk about?” he wrote.

“Incentive,” I wrote back.

Johan met us down in the lobby. Suddenly, he was back to his old self, paying attention to Danny and showering him with congratulations for his victories that day and offering words of encouragement for the next day’s events.

We went back to the same pizza place as the night before. Again, Johan ordered beers for each of us and a Coke for Danny.

I was unusually quiet at dinner, barely eating, slowing sipping my beer, watching as the minutes ticked away. But despite the creeping dread I felt as each slice of pizza disappeared from the table, I could see that Johan was breathing life and confidence back into my son, and that brought me a strange measure of relief.

Then, the meal ended, and I knew the bill was going to include more than just dinner.

Johan had been so focused on Danny throughout dinner, but as we rode the elevator up to the 11th floor of the hotel, he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. I felt my heart starting to pound as if his fingers were a set of jumper cables.

“Well, it’s time for me and Danny to hit the hay,” I said, stepping out of the elevator. “Big day tomorrow.”

Johan gave Danny a big high-five.

“Big day indeed, champ,” he cried. Then, he turned quietly to me. “So Nikki, about that talk…”

“I need to get Danny settled in,” I said.

He paused, mulling this over. Then, he nodded and walked away.

As I helped Danny get ready for bed, my mind raced wildly.

I wasn’t sure what to do, but after the way he had put his hands on me in the elevator, I was now certain of one thing: if I went to Johan’s room, he would expect us to do more than just talk. And I couldn’t allow that to happen.

After Danny was in bed, I lingered in the bathroom, hiding from both my son and his so-called friend. But then my phone buzzed.

“Youre late”

“Danny’s being difficult,” I wrote back. “Nervous about tomorrow.”

A pause. Then, bubbles.

“IDGAF,” it read. “Come now”

“I can’t right now,” I wrote back. “Be nice tomorrow and we’ll talk then”

“Incentive or GTFO”

“I can’t leave the room,” I protested. “He’ll freak out”

There was a pause for several seconds. And then:

“Send pussy”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This whole situation was completely overwhelming, and I was utterly spent from an entire day taking care of Danny and trying to keep my own anxiety at bay. I didn’t have the stamina to keep arguing with Johan, but I knew that if I cut him off, he had the power to hurt me or my son.

Then, slowly, I unzipped my jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them. Just get through this, I thought to myself. You’re only here for two more days.

I was wearing a pair of stretchy, lycra boyshorts beneath a loose-fitting tank-top. Slowly, I rolled the boyshorts down around my milky thighs, exposing the thin triangle of soft, dark hair above my 34-year-old mound.

I held up the camera, framing my waist and thighs, careful not to include any details that could identify me. Then, with my eyes shut tight, I snapped a photo of my pussy.

With nothing to identify me, the pretty, disembodied pink lips on the screen could have belonged to anyone. I almost couldn’t believe that they belonged to me as I pressed send.

But no sooner had I sent the photo then the bubbles appeared on the sooner.

“Thats bullshit,” it read. “Cant even tell its you”

“It’s me,” I wrote back quickly. “I swear”

“Prove it,” he wrote. “Show tits and pussy”

“no way,” I wrote back. “I did what you asked”

“tits and pussy,” he wrote back. “Or no more nice guy”

I knew I shouldn’t be negotiating like this, that I couldn’t keep letting this 19-year-old boy push me around like some kind of submissive plaything. But I was also so tired and anxious, and my nerves were completely frayed. I just needed to satisfy him enough to get through the night.

Slowly, I pulled the tank top over my head. Then, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, letting my big tits spill out from beneath the cups. Turning my head away from the screen to hide my face, I held the camera aloft and clicked the shutter. Then, I forced myself to look at the screen.

Although you couldn’t see my face, there was no denying that the big-breasted, half-naked Asian woman on the screen was me. You could tell from the clothes uselessly strewn about my body, from the skin color and the proportions and the haircut. Anyone who knew me well would likely be able to identify me from this photo.

This had to be enough. It just had to be. Reluctantly, I tapped send.

A few seconds later, the response came.

“Damn Nikki you’re a fucking MILF”

“Goodnight,” I wrote back. Then, I re-blocked the number.

I slumped down against the bathroom door, a wave of guilty disbelief crashing over me. I’d just sent another man a photo of my naked body.

And not just any other man. A 19-year-old white boy who I’d thought was my son’s best friend. A 19-year-old white boy who was using my son to manipulate me. I’d sent him a photo of my tits and pussy that even my husband had never seen.

At least I could rectify that one wrong. Quickly, I sent the same photo to Steve, then I deleted it.

Exhausted, I climbed into the shower, then stumbled into bed.

The next morning, I had a very appreciative message from Steve waiting on my phone:

“Damn you are so hot,” he wrote. “Whatever’s gotten into you, make sure you bring some of it back with you to Cali”

Mercifully, there were no messages from Johan, as his number was still blocked.

And for most of the day, things seemed to be almost normal. Danny was cubing well, and in the morning, he defended his title in the 5×5. But that afternoon, as Danny was warming up for the 4×4 championships, I saw Johan staring at me from across the practice room.

“Hey Nikki,” he yelled, gesturing at me to come over to him.

I shook my head at him, waving him off. Everyone here knew me as Danny’s mom, Mrs. Kim. What was he trying to prove by calling me Nikki in front of my son and all these other people?

A moment later, he walked over to where I was sitting with Danny.

“Hey Danny,” he said, pulling out his phone. “You wanna see a funny photo…”

Before Danny could respond, I grabbed Johan by the wrist.

“Can I speak with you for a minute?” I said tensely, trying to keep a sunny note in my voice for the other people listening.

Despite the fact that he was half-a-head taller than me, I pulled Johan out of the practice room by his wrist, dragging him into the hallway.

“What on Earth was that?” I hissed, trying to keep voice down. “What were you going to show him?”

“Hi, Nikki,” he smiled with lecherous delight, brazenly looking me up and down.

“What was all that about?!” I murmured beneath my breath.

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he smirked. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, and we need to talk.”

“This is NOT the time, Johan,” I hissed. “Danny has 4×4 in 10 minutes…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t even make the 4×4 finals,” he said, grabbing my hand. “So I have all the time in the world.”

Suddenly, this much larger, much younger white man was leading me down a public hallway, ushering me away from my son.

“Where are we going?” I cried in hushed tones, mindful of the other people walking in the hallway. I could only imagine what they would make of this white college boy escorting a young, pretty Asian woman through the hall, pulling me along like a piece of property. “Johan, we have to go back…”

“You said we have 10 minutes,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder as he opened what to me looked like a random door. “So let’s use them.”

He pulled me into the room behind him. As the door shut behind us, I saw that we were in an empty conference room.

“Johan, where are w–”

But before I could finish the sentence, Johan pushed me roughly against the wall.

“You’re so fucking hot, Nikki,” he mumbled, frantically bringing his mouth down crashing over mine.

As he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I felt sirens going off in every cell and synapse of my body. I was a married woman, a wife and mother. How was this happening?

This was the first time I’d kissed another man during my marriage to Steve, but even as I began to panic about what that meant, the main thing on my mind was the seconds ticking off the clock as Danny’s 4×4 championship final approached.

Twisting my head desperately, I managed to disengage from the kiss, but Johan’s mouth only moved down my body to my collarbone.

“Johan, I’m married,” I cried. As he kissed my collarbone, I felt his hands begin to grope, exploring my hips and my breasts with teenage intensity. “I’m a mother!”

“God, you’re a real life MILF,” he muttered, lifting my tank top up to reveal my bra. “A fucking Asian MILF…”

“You need to stop this,” I cried, but my plea fell on deaf ears as Johan fumbled with the clasp of my bra. “Johan, no!”

Frustrated with the clasp, he grabbed one of the cups of my bra and yanked it up to my collabarone, roughly exposing my huge, bare breasts.

“Ohgod, no,” I moaned. “Johan, don’t do this…”

Far from listening, he dropped his greedy face to my tits, latching onto my nipple hungrily.

“I need to go,” I moaned, trying to wrestle myself free as this younger man inhaled my soft, supple breasts. “Let me go, Johan… Danny needs me…”

“Then do this for him,” he said, releasing my tits. “Do it for Danny…”

Keeping me pinned against the wall with his body, Johan dropped one hand to his pants and unzipped himself.

“Johan, no–NO,” I cried, sensing what he had in mind, trying ineffectively to push him away. “I can’t do that! Just–just let me go…”

“Suck my dick, Nikki,” he moaned, pushing my head down with his free hand. “Suck me off and I’ll be nice to Danny…”

“I need to go,” I moaned, shaking my head even as he forced me to my knees. “I need to go right now…”

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Johan sighed, lost in his own fantasy as he pulled his cock out of his pants.

Then, suddenly, I was face to face with the first white cock I’d ever seen in person.

My husband Steve has many wonderful qualities, which include being a skilled and generous lover, and he’s very adequately endowed as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never had a problem with his size, and I’d never really wondered what it would be like to be with a larger man.

But Johan was obviously larger than my husband–much larger. The thick, uncut German cock in front of me looked like it belonged in the produce section of the supermarket, not between the legs of a 19-year-old boy.

I was so shocked by the mere fact of his cock that I just knelt there for a moment, dumbfounded and down on my knees. That moment of stunned silence was all he needed, as I felt him pull my head towards his thick, turgid tool.

“NO Johan,” I screamed. “WAIT–”

But as I tried to protest, this young man–this college boy–took advantage of his opening, sliding the head of his cock between my parted lips.

“MMHMMPH,” I protested, my eyes going wide as he invaded my mouth.

“Yessssssss, Nikki,” he moaned in stolen ecstasy, forcing my head forward, pushing deeper into my throat. “God, just–just let me cum…”

I gagged instantly, unable to open wide enough to accommodate Johan’s unprecedented size. But he didn’t seem to notice or care that my eyes were watering as I tried desperately not to choke, struggling to take enough air in through my nose as he obstructed my throat.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he moaned, glorying in the realization of his conquest. “I never thought… I never thought…”

I’d given my husband plenty of blowjobs over the course of our marriage, but none like this. Johan was so much larger than Steve, and he was handling me with almost violent disregard, stroking himself in and out my mouth at his preferred pace.

“I need this so bad,” he moaned, pushing deeper and more forcefully into my mouth, seeming to enjoy the sounds of my tortured gagging. “I’m so fucking close…”

At this point, I’d completely ceased trying to fight him. Now, I was just trying to keep myself from passing out as he abused my throat. All I could do was to give him what he wanted so that I could make it back before Danny realized that I was gone.

“Swallow me, Nikki,” he moaned, throwing his head up in hedonistic abandon. “Eat my cum…”

I closed my eyes and opened my throat as wide as I could, using my full, pouty lips to create a vacuum around the head of the young, thick cock buried in my mouth. I knew this would please Johan, yes, but I was more concerned about making sure that none of his spunk ended up on my clothes or hair.

“Ohhh yesssss, Nikki,” he howled in approval, his testes roiling with the virility of the pillager as he felt me brace to accept his seed. “OHHHH–FUCK–YESSSSSSS”

I gagged as several thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted from Johan’s 19-year-old white cock and spattered the back of my throat. Tears fell from my eyes, but I kept my lips sealed around his shaft, swallowing desperately to keep from my clothes unspoiled.

“Oh fuck fuck FUCK,” Johan sighed, falling backwards onto a chair, his pants around his ankles. “God, Nikki, that was so hot…”

Silently, I stood up. Carefully, I adjusted my clothes, trying to make myself respectable again.

“Was it good?” I asked him softly.

“Oh my god–”

I reached down, slapping him in the face.

“You can’t just use people like that!” I yelled, my voice breaking as tears rolled down my cheeks.”That’s not how you treat another human being!”

He stared silently at me as I wiped them from face.

“You’re right,” he nodded soberly. “I–I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I whispered, fixing my hair and drying my eyes with my sleeve. “Not to me, or anyone else, ever.”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Delete those photos,” I said, turning away from him towards the door. “And don’t you ever, EVER mention this, to my son or anyone else.”

I his lips curve into a tiny smirk curve. He stepped past me and opened the door, holding it for me like he was some kind of gentleman.

“We better hurry up,” he said. “The 4×4 begins in a few minutes.”

With Johan’s cum sloshing around in my stomach, I made it back just in time to send Danny off for the 4×4 final. I watched from the front row as he repeated as 4×4 world champion and set a new record time. And there, a few rows behind me, was Johan, clapping wildly as if he himself had just won the 4×4 title.

Later, finally back in the room, I had a moment to think, and the gravity of what had happened began to sink in.

I had cheated on Steve. Maybe I’d been forced into it, but that kind of rationalization did nothing to assuage my feelings of guilt. I was a 34-year-old woman, a wife and a mother, and I’d somehow let this 19-year-old boy put me on my knees.

Johan had violated both my body and my marriage, and I felt sick with shame over the fact that I hadn’t done more to stop him. He was much bigger than me, and I could reason that he’d overpowered me, and perhaps that was true. But why had I let him lead me into that room all alone? Why had I followed this young man, blindly letting him take me by the hand? Maybe I couldn’t have anticipated how aggressive he would become, but after what he’d used my photos to exploit me, I should have known that Johan would not respect my boundaries.

But I had no experience dealing with something like this, because no man had ever treated me like this before. Even back when we were dating, Steve had never been like this towards me, ever. And since then, strange men had flirted with me on occasion, but I was so rarely out of the house on my own that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be pursued.

Now, suddenly, this young German college boy from South Africa was pushing me around, telling me what he wanted, and making me do it. He was calling me Nikki, like we were peers, but he also kept calling me MILF, like I was his personal pornstar. He wasn’t intimidated by the age difference between us, didn’t care that I was married, and didn’t seem to give a damn that he was friends with my son. He’d handled me so roughly, even when I’d told him no.

This must be why my father had warned me not to trust white boys back when I was a teenager myself. Because they’ll say or do whatever it takes to get what they want. And now I knew what that was.

Still, despite what had happened, I held out hope that he’d been chastened by my words, and that he might finally be feeling some shame over what he’d been doing to me. Tomorrow was the final day of the tournament, and if I could just avoid being alone with him until then, Danny and I would be able to get on a plane back to LA and leave this whole episode behind.

But that’s not what happened.

Danny needs routines, especially at a tournament like this, where so many things are already different and disorienting. So I decided, perhaps unwisely, to go back to the same pizza place for the third straight night.

Obviously, I didn’t tell Johan what we were doing. But evidently, I didn’t have to, because as we were sitting down, he walked though the door, plopping down next to me in the booth as if he’d been invited.

“Hey Danny,” he smiled, giving my son a high five. “Great work on the 4×4 today!”

“What are you doing?” I hissed, turning my face so that Danny wouldn’t see my reaction. “I didn’t ask you to be here…”

“We’ve been eating dinner together here every night,” he smiled. “I just assumed we’d do the same thing tonight.”

I looked over at Danny, who was already brightening up noticeably in Johan’s presence.

“Two beers,” Johan called out to the server. “And a Coke.”

Just like the night before, Johan was charming and engaging at dinner, building Danny’s confidence and getting him talking. In spite of everything, I have to admit that seeing Danny open up like this and have a real conversation was still a pretty magical thing for me, so much so that I was almost able to forget what his friend had done to me earlier that day.

Then, midway through pizza, Danny got up and went to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Johan.

“Nikki,” he said, turning to me. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I… I got carried away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” I said tensely, my eyes darting towards the bathroom where Danny had disappeared.

“I know, but we do need to talk,” he said. “About tomorrow.”

“What about tomorrow?” I muttered.

“Danny’s going to break my last world record,” Johan said. “In the 3×3.”

“We’ll see,” I said uneasily.

“He should,” Johan said. “He’s fast enough. As long as he’s feeling good and confident, if he’s able to concentrate, then he’ll break it for sure.”

“So then what do we have to talk about?” I snapped.

“Well, it’s my last record, Nikki,” Johan continued. “It means a lot to me. I don’t know if I want him to break it.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew that Johan’s affection and approval meant so much to Danny. If he were to withdraw it right before the 3×3 championships, I had no idea how that would affect him.

“So if I’m going to be a gracious loser,” Johan said, lowering his voice. “I just thought we should talk about my incentive.”

Beneath the table, he reached out, putting his hand on my thigh.

“We are in public,” I hissed, peeling his hand off my leg. “And I am not talking about this with you.”

“Then we need to talk later,” he insisted, holding onto my hand. “In private.”

“We absolutely will not,” I shook my head.

“Don’t you want to know why?” he whispered, still holding onto my hand.

“Why what?” I said, pulling my hand away.

“Why I wanna fuck you so badly,” he whispered.

“You–you can’t talk to me like that,” I said, sliding my chair away from him and looking frantically over at the bathroom as Danny re-emerged.

“Come on, honey,” I said as he returned to the table. “We should head home before it gets too late.”

“Can Johan come?” Danny asked.

“Sure, buddy,” Johan said, patting my son on the back. “Your mom and I will hang out while you get ready for bed.”

Danny smiled. My heart fell into my stomach.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said to Danny. “You have your routine, honey.”

“Please, Mom,” he whispered.

Getting him to remember to use good manners like this had been such an uphill battle, and now here he was, asking politely to hang out with his friend on the last night of his big tournament. It seemed like such an innocent request, but I knew that it wasn’t.

“Just the walk home, honey,” I said. “Then we have to go to bed!”

“Yes,” Johan said, gently putting his arm around me as I tried to shrug him off. “We have to go to bed, Danny.”

My mind was a blur the entire walk back to the hotel. When we arrived back on our floor, I told Danny it was time to say goodnight to Johan.

“I thought maybe I’d come back to the room with you,” Johan said. “We can help Danny get ready for bed together.”

“That’s not a good idea,” I said. “Danny doesn’t need extra excitement at bedtime.”

“But you do,” he said, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. “I can tell.”

“Goodnight,” I said, stepping away from him and opening the door to our room. “Say goodnight, Danny.”

“Goodnight,” Danny said, walking inside.

“Goodnight, bud,” Johan called.

Before I could follow Danny inside, Johan put his hand on the door.

“Nikki,” he said softly. “Do you want your son to break my record tomorrow?”

“I need to help him get ready,” I muttered, trying to step past him into my room.

“I can make tomorrow very confusing for Danny,” he said coldly. “Or I can make it a day he’ll remember fondly forever.”

“What you’re doing is wrong,” I hissed. “Wrong to me, and wrong to my son, who is supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ve been a good friend to your son, and I apologized for what happened,” he said. “I just want to explain myself.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I don’t trust you at all.”

“If you come over and hear me out, then I’ll delete the photos,” he whispered. “Both of them.”

“Then delete them now,” I said. “Right now.”

“If I do that, will you come talk to me?” he asked. “After Danny’s gone to bed.”

“Do it first,” he responded, folding my arms.

“Okay, you know what?” he took out his phone and unlocked it, handing it over to me. “You delete them, if you don’t trust me. Go ahead.”

Quickly, I opened his photo library to delete the two naked images. But as I did, I noticed that he had other nude photos on his camera roll, including one taken from behind of a young, pretty Asian woman down on all fours. Quickly, I suppressed the temptation to scroll through the photos and instead found the two photos I’d sent him. I deleted them both, then opened up his messages and deleted the text thread between us.

“You better not have them anywhere else,” I said, handing the phone back to him reluctantly.

He shook his head, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“So, see, I’m not such a bad guy,” he smiled. “I just don’t like losing.”

“I see,” I replied coldly, pushing the door open. “I need to help Danny get ready.”

“Come talk to me after you’re done,” he said. “If we talk, maybe it’ll be easier for me to give Danny the encouragement he needs tomorrow.”

“Uh huh,” I said, closing the door and locking it behind me.

As I got Danny ready for bed, I felt anxious and jittery, and I couldn’t tell exactly why.

If Johan had been telling the truth, then the incriminating photos were gone, and that made me extremely relieved. But that still didn’t mean that I could trust him.

To be fair, he did genuinely seem contrite about what he’d done to me earlier that day. Yet although he’d apologized for it, he was still making brazen advances towards me. Given all of that, being alone with him in a hotel room seemed like an extremely dangerous situation to put myself in.

But on the other hand, I felt a sort of responsibility to my son. This championship in the 3×3–this world record–was the one that Danny had wanted for years now, the thing that excited him more than anything else in the world. He’d come so far to get it, and the thought of seeing him disappointed weighed heavily on my heart.

If the photos were really gone, then Johan couldn’t blackmail me with them anymore, but he could still use his influence to destroy my son’s confidence on the most important day of his life. If it was within my power to help my son achieve his dream, then it felt somehow selfish not to do what I could.

Once Danny was in bed, I went into the bathroom and called Steve.

“What’s up, babe,” he said groggily. “What time is it there?”

“About 10:30,” I said, immediately feeling a pang of guilt for waking him up. “Sorry to call so late.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “What’s up?”

“I’m… I’m just nervous about tomorrow,” I said. “It’s the 3×3.”

“The big one,” Steve said.

“And it’s… it’s the last record that Danny hasn’t broken,” I said. “The last one that still belongs to Johan.”

“Wonder how he’s feeling about it,” Steve mumbled.

“That’s what worries me,” I fretted. “Because if Johan were to do something… something to psyche Danny out tomorrow…”

“Would he do that?” Steve asked. “He never seemed like that kind of kid.”

“He’s not the kid we remember,” I muttered. “At this point, I don’t really know who he is…”

“Well, did you try talking to him?” Steve asked. “If he’s upset about losing his spotlight to Danny, then maybe he just needs someone to let him know he’s still special.”

“You… you think I should do that?” I whispered in shock, my hand moving to cover my mouth.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Steve yawned. “You’re good at making people feel special.”

“You want me to make him feel special?” I said, almost in disbelief at the words coming out of my husband’s mouth.

“Sure,” he said sleepily. “If it could help Danny, then why not?”

“Umm… okay,” I mumbled, the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. “If you think that’s what I should do…”

“I gotta go back to sleep, babe,” Steve said. “But don’t worry about it so much. There’s only so much that you can control.”

“I suppose,” I said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said, hanging up the phone.

Setting the phone down, I felt for a moment completely unmoored, as if I had suddenly lost my balance.

Of course, Steve had no idea of the real situation that had developed between me and Johan, no clue as to what had already happened. And yet, he had suggested that I do almost exactly what Johan wanted: go and talk to him. In fact, Steve had gone a step further, proposing that I try to “make him feel special.” How was I supposed to interpret that?

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.

I was not in control. He was.

“And you’re gonna beg for my white cock, aren’t you?”

“No–no no no…” I moaned, writhing, trying desperately to stem the tides that were cresting inside me.

With that, he lifted his head from between my legs and began turning me over.

“I don’t care if Danny breaks my record tomorrow,” Johan crowed, flipping me onto all fours. “Because I’m going to break in his hot Asian mom.”

“Please, Johan–please–” I pleaded, feeling his hands on my waist as he positioned himself behind me. “I’m a Christian… I’m a wife…”

“I’m going to break all your records, Nikki,” Johan howled. “Your first time cheating on your husband. Your first white guy. The biggest cock you’ve ever had.”

“Johan–Johan, no,” I moaned, feeling his cock press against the lips of my wet, spit-soaked pussy. “We can’t–can’t do this…”

“I’m gonna rewrite your record book,” he yelled, slapping my ass. “I’m gonna rewrite your whole fucking life…”

“Ohgod–oh no, oh no–Johan, NO–”

“Say yes, Nikki,” he moaned, teasing my slit with the tip of his tool. “Do it for Danny…”

“I can’t!” I moaned, fighting the unspeakable urge to push myself backwards onto him. “I can’t!”

“You know how much he needs me,” Johan crowed, reveling in his impending victory. “And I know how much you need me…”

“This is bad,” I whimpered, feeling the thick tip of his raw, uncut cock beginning to enter me. “This is so wrong…”

“But you’ve always wanted to fuck a bad boy, haven’t you?” he cried, slapping my ass again. “So fucking say it!”

“You… you need to use a condom,” I whispered, practically mouthing the words.

“What was that?!” he yelled scornfully, pushing the tip of his spear into me with cocky disregard. “What did you say?!”

“You need… need a condom,” I moaned desperately, louder this time. “P–please…”

“What do I need a condom for?” he cried savagely, his voice suffused with smugness. “Tell me.”

“To–to do it,” I squealed, my eyes closed tightly, the head of his cock already nestled inside the soaked folds of my pussy.

“To do what?!” he demanded, laughing cruelly. “I wanna hear you say it, Nikki. I wanna taste the way it sounds on those slutty lips!”

“Johan, you… you need a condom to… to…”

Even as I spoke, I felt him pushing into me, feeding me inch-by-inch. I was begging him to use a condom, but he was already inside me, his raw, uncut cock already staining my virtue. My words were meaningless, because my body had already spoken.

“… to fuck me…”

As these forbidden words left my lips, he slammed into me recklessly, burying his white teenage cock bareback inside my married Asian pussy.

“OH OH OH OHHHHHHHHHHGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD,” I screamed, my body alight with pain and pleasure, ecstasy and guilt.

“Now you know,” he spat, luxuriating in his conquest, pounding into me with savage strokes that shook the entire room. “This is why Asian girls love white cock.”

“YOU–YOU–YOU–YOU’RE BREAKING ME!” I screamed, tears leaping to my eyes. “I CAN’T, JOHAN! YOU’RE–IT’S–TOO BIG!”

“I’ll slow it down for you,” he sneered, gathering a handful of my long, silky hair. “But before long you’ll be begging me to go harder.”

He slowed his pace, but he was still resizing me with every stroke, his cock claiming untouched, virgin inches that were too deep inside me for my husband.

“I CAN’T DO THIS,” I moaned hysterically, my eyeliner smearing as my eyes watered from the pain. “PLEASE, JOHAN, YOU’RE… YOU’RE TEARING ME APART”

“Just ride through it, slut,” he said, adopting a soothing tone despite the harshness of his language. “You’ll get used to it soon…”

Then, Johan suddenly became quiet, shutting his mouth so that his hips could do the talking.

Stroke by stroke, he settled into a rhythm, driving in and out of me, opening me up in new directions as he varied his angle of penetration. I squealed and whimpered as he grunted, plundering me methodically, pausing periodically to maul my tits from behind as the walls of my pussy stretched to accommodate him. And with each passing stroke, the initial pain began to fade, and other forbidden sensations began spreading inside me.

The rhythmic sound of his hips slamming against my ass filled the room like a drumbeat. Unlike his initial strokes, which had been violent and painful, his pace was now more measured, long and smooth like sine waves transmitting stimulation into my body.

As he pounded into me without speaking, I could tell that he was concentrating deeply, focused on the task at hand. At first, I thought he was just trying not to cum, wanting to extend his own pleasure for as long as possible. But soon, I realized to my horror that he had a different goal in mind: making me cum.

I felt a creeping dread beginning to build inside me as Johan varied his stroke, testing differences in speed and angle and pressure, probing the depths of my body, searching for the stimulus that would trigger my base animal instincts.

The physics of what he was doing were totally foreign to me. For more than 14 years, I had only been with Steve, and I’d become very accustomed to his tool and the way he used it. But the difference in size between my husband and this 19-year-old college boy were such that being with one couldn’t possibly prepare me for the other.

The extra inches that Johan possessed allowed him to do much more than just go deeper. Johan’s cock was so long that despite its hardness, I could feel it curving inside of me, conforming to the contours of my tunnel even as he stretched its dimensions. His strokes were much longer and more even than my husband’s, and as he moved in and out of me, it felt like he was administering a deep-tissue massage to walls of my pussy.

“You’re still so tight,” he sighed appreciatively. “Two kids and you’re still so fucking tight…”

My body felt like a ball of dough that Johan was kneading from the inside out. He was using the gigantic rolling pin between his legs to smooth me out, to flatten my resistance. And like dough, it felt as if he was changing me on a molecular level, breaking me down into something pliable and submissive, reshaping the structure of my body to suit his needs.

None of this made sense. How could a 19-year-old boy be making me feel like this? He’d been so brutish and aggressive and violent in his coercions, yet now that he was finally fucking me, he seemed poised and disciplined, almost graceful.

When I’d let him enter me, I’d assumed that he would fuck me the way Steve had when he’d been a young man: passionate and energetic but wild and out-of-control. But as Johan plied me with his huge cock, his teenage enthusiasm was matched by a calm, calculating demeanor that reinforced the basic truth of my situation: Johan was totally in control. Of himself, and of me.

Then, it was as if the angle and the pressure and the depth of his stroke struck some secret chord inside me, because an entirely new kind of sound escaped my lips. Not a whimper of pain or a squeal of shame, but a moan of pure, unmistakable, animal pleasure.

“Yessssssss,” Johan howled in triumph. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Uhhnnnnnnnnnn,” I moaned, unintelligible yet unable to deny the fullness of what I was feeling.

“You like that, don’t you?” he laughed arrogantly, steadying his pace, striking the same note over and over. “I solved you, didn’t I?”

I moaned again, nodding my head up and down.

“Don’t just nod, Nikki. I wanna hear you speak,” he said, pulling my hair, forcing me to arch my back, making it impossible for me to move my head. “Tell me. You like getting fucked by your son’s best friend, don’t you? Don’t you?!”

“Uhhnnnnnnnn–uhnnn huhnn,” I cried, unable to resist him, shamefully aware that somehow, this 19-year-old boy seemed to be showing me the full potential of what my body could do.

“Do you like being a white cock slut, Nikki?” he growled.

“Ohgod–ohgod–ohgod–”

It was coming. I was almost there. I was not in control.

“I solved you,” he cried, pounding me faster now. “Didn’t I, Mrs. Kim?”

“Ohgod–Johan–Johan–”

“You can be both… Mrs. Kim, and–and Nikki,” he moaned, hammering into me recklessly now. “You ARE both…”

“Johan–don’t–don’t cum in me–”

“Oh, I’m not going to cum yet,” he cackled. “But you are…”

“Oh shit ohhhh shit oh shit,” I shuddered, my body racked with tremors, my tits bouncing up and down with his every thrust.

“Mrs. Kim is a good, sweet Asian wife,” he howled. “But Nikki…”

“Don’t–oh–ohgod–”

“Nikki is a… white–cock–Asian–MILF!” he screamed, pounding into me, mercilessly striking the same spot over and over, exploiting the weakness that only his cock had been able to reach.

“OHGOD OH GOD OHHHHHHHHHH!!” I screamed, feeling my married pussy clamp down around his 19-year-old cock. “OHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUCK”

“Cum for me, Nikki,” he cried, shouting in ecstasy as he rode into me. “Be a slut for me!”

All I could do was writhe on his cock, my body shaking violently as I moaned incoherently, my voice broken, full of ecstasy and regret. I was letting this 19-year-old boy fuck me without a condom. And against all my better angels, he was making me cum for him.

“You act like this a perfect little wife,” he cried, slowing his pace just enough to let the aftershocks of my orgasm ripple through me unimpeded. “But Nikki, your body… you know you’ve got the body of the perfect Asian MILF slut, don’t you?”

I was speechless, exhausted and despoiled and disoriented, my body still shuddering in the throes of its sex-drunk mutiny against my brain.

“I wonder how many times I can make you cum tonight,” he laughed cruelly, his stroke returning to its original rhythm. “What’s your husband’s record, Nikki?”

“Johan–Johan, I have to… to go back,” I whimpered. “I need to go back to Danny…”

“Oh yeah?” he grunted. “Why’s that?”

“If–if he wakes up,” I squealed. “If I’m not there for him…”

“Why are you still acting like this is about Danny?” he spat viciously.

“This is… this is for him,” I cried plaintively. “I’m doing–doing this for him!”

“That’s bullshit,” he cried angrily, slapping my ass. “And you know it…”

“It’s true!” I moaned. “P–please, Johan… it–it’s true…”

“Here’s the thing, Nikki,” he growled. “I won’t cum until I hear you tell me the truth. So I’ll give you a choice: you can keep lying to me about how you’re only doing this for Danny, and I can keep fucking you all night…”

“Ohgod–Johan, no… you can’t…”

“I can keep you in this bed,” he continued. “Making you cum over and over, until Danny wakes up without you…”

“No!” I moaned, my voice full of terror. “No, you can’t!”

“Or, you can tell me the truth,” he snarled. “About why you’re really here. About you and your husband.”

“I’m–I’m telling the truth,” I whimpered.

“Just be honest, Nikki,” he said, slowing his rhythm to a gentler pace and dropping his voice to a more soothing tone. “The truth will make me cum. And then I’ll let you go.”

“You… you will?” I whispered.

“Yes, Nikki,” he said softly. “I promise. The truth will set you free.”

“Okay, but… I don’t know what to say…”

“Tell me about your husband,” he said. “Does he love you?”

“Yes,” I whispered softly, flushing with shame. “He does.”

“How often does he fuck you?”

“I… I don’t know,” I murmured. “About… about once a week…”

“That’s pathetic, Nikki,” Johan sneered. “That’s not enough for you, is it?”

“I–I don’t know…” I stammered.

“With this body,” he growled, slapping my ass for effect. “You should be getting fucked like this everyday…”

“Oh god,” I moaned, the thought planting itself inside my brain. “Everyday…”

“Your body needs more than just food and water,” he cried savagely. “Your body needs a big cock, Nikki…”

“I just…I just–”

“If your husband loves you, then why doesn’t he fuck you everyday?” Johan grunted dismissively. “Why isn’t he giving you what you need?”

“He’s–we’re–we’re busy,” I stammered, unable to think clearly while this young man continued to plumb the depths of my body. “With Danny, and–and Riley…”

“Don’t lie to me, Nikki,” he snarled, puling my hair back as he plunged into me. “Tell me the truth!”

“I AM!” I moaned, my body quivering inside as the storm clouds began to gather anew. “Ohgod, I–I am…”

But at that moment, I realized that Johan wasn’t interested in the truth. He didn’t care about how complicated a marriage can be, or how people can change over time and grow apart. He didn’t want to know about how hard it is to be a parent, especially raising a kid like Danny.

“TELL ME WHY!” he yelled. “WHY DOESN’T HE GIVE YOU WHAT YOU NEED?!”

I could see now that for Johan, the truth wasn’t based in reality. When it came to me, his truth was based in fantasy, and that was what he wanted.

My body alone wasn’t enough. Only one thing would satisfy this greedy, insatiable 19-year-old stud, and it was his version of the truth on my lips. This was my only way out.

“HE–HE–HE CAN’T!” I moaned, unable to deny him what he so clearly wanted, my voice choked with shame and submission. “HE CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?!” Johan demanded, plunging into me faster now, urging me onward.

“HE CAN’T FUCK ME LIKE THIS!” I cried, my resolve completely broken, my dignity crumbling under his unrelenting onslaught. “NOT–NOT LIKE THIS! NOT LIKE YOU!”

“WHY?!” he screamed, slapping my ass, his hips slamming into me with incredible force.

“HE’S NOT–HE’S NOT BIG!” I moaned. “HE’S NOT BIG ENOUGH!”

“BUT I AM!” he snarled with delight. “AREN’T I?!”

He had pounded so much energy into my body and it had nowhere to go. I had already cum, yet I still felt like a star that was about to go supernova.

“YESSSSS,” I screamed, letting his fantasy flow through me. “YOU’RE–YOU’RE SO BIG, JOHAN! YOU’RE–YOU’RE–YOU’RE SO MUCH BIGGER!”

“YOU LIKE THIS BIG COCK?!” he screamed. “YOU LIKE THE WAY I FUCK YOU?!”

“YES–YES–OHGOD, YES–”

“YOUR HUSBAND CAN’T FUCK YOU LIKE THIS, CAN HE?!”

“NO–NEVER–NOT LIKE THIS!”

“SO WHY DID YOU COME HERE, NIKKI?” he howled. “WHY DID YOU COME TONIGHT?!”

“OH GOD–OH GOD–”

“WAS IT FOR DANNY?!” he sneered triumphantly. “WAS IT?!”

“OH GOD–OH GOD, NO–”

This couldn’t be happening. Not this quickly. Not again.

“THEN WHY?!”

“TO–TO–”

My entire body was quaking. Hot, sinful magma was bubbling up from the core of my being, erupting from every pore, every seam.

“TO LET YOU FUCK ME!” I screamed, my debasement finally complete. “I WANTED YOU TO FUCK ME!!”

“CUM FOR ME!” Johan screamed approvingly. “CUM FOR ME AGAIN!!”

“UHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNMPH!” I moaned in rhapsody, seizures of pleasure bursting from every cell of my body with volcanic force.

“You’re a slut, Nikki,” he sneered callously, still pumping me, refusing to slow down. “You’re an Asian slutwife…”

“I’M A SLUT!” I moaned, writhing uncontrollably for him. “I’M YOUR SLUT!”

“A big cock slut,” he continued. “A white cock slut…”

“I AM! OH GOD–OH GOD, I AM–”

“Your husband has to accept that,” Johan snarled. “Doesn’t he?!”

“OH GOD–OH FUCK–”

“If he really loves you,” he continued scornfully. “He’ll understand, won’t he?!”

“JOHAN–JOHAN–PLEASE–”

“He’ll understand,” Johan moaned. “That his hot–Korean–wife–is… is a cumslut MILF for… for a young, white stud with–with a huge cock…”

His strokes were slowing down, becoming longer and more deliberate. I could tell he was trying desperately to control himself as he approached the point of no return.

“JOHAN–YOU–YOU CAN’T CUM,” I begged. “PLEASE, YOU CAN’T CUM IN ME!”

“Then tell me where you want it, slut!” he moaned. “Tell me where you want my cum!”

“NOT INSIDE ME!” I cried desperately. “ANY–ANYWHERE ELSE!”

“Anywhere else?!” he screamed, pulling my hair roughly. “ANYWHERE?!”

“ANYWHERE ELSE!” I moaned again. “WHEREVER YOU WANT!”

Suddenly, Johan pulled out of me, and my entire body felt as if it had suddenly been emptied. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me around to face him.

“Has your husband ever cum on your face, Nikki?” he said, backing off the bed to stand on the floor.

“No,” I whispered, looking up at his grinning, arrogant teenage face.

As I knelt before him on the bed, the sight of his cock was breathtaking, not just because of its sheer size, but how incredibly veiny it was, so ready to explode. I couldn’t believe that such a thing been inside me, yet its entire length was smeared with cum from my orgasms.

“Beg me for it,” he spat, stroking himself.

It’s almost over, I thought to myself. This is it. You can do this.

I took a deep breath.

“Cum for me,” I whispered softly.

“Beg better,” he snarled. “And play with your tits.”

“Cum on my face, Johan,” I purred seductively, cupping my heavy breasts in each hand, rolling my nipples between my fingers. “I want it…”

“Your husband, he’s… he’s never done this?” he said, his breathing ragged with desire.

“This is just for you,” I cooed, shaking my head. “You’re the only one who gets to cum on my pretty face…”

“Oh–oh god,” he moaned, looking down at me. “Nikki, don’t stop…”

“Your cock is so much bigger than his,” I whispered, pushing my tits together invitingly for him. “So I want to give you something he’s never had…”

“Yes–yes–keep going–”

“You were right, Johan,” I mewled. “This isn’t about Danny. Not anymore…”

“OH–OH YES–”

“It’s about your huge fucking cock,” I smiled. “And my tight, married pussy…”

“OH–OH–OH–”

“You’re the only one who gets to do this, Johan, because you’re special,” I whispered, licking my lips. “Now cum for me…”

“UHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!”

He threw his head back, and I closed my eyes. Then, I felt one hot, sticky rope after another land on my face, glazing me in a way that no man ever had.

“Good boy,” I whispered, wiping cum from my eyes as I opened them.

Then, suddenly, it was over. Johan collapsed onto the bed next to me.

“Holy shit,” he shook his head, looking up at the ceiling in amazement. “Did that really just happen?”

As he lay on the bed in a stupor, I stood up, quickly gathering my clothes. Using my ruined blouse, I wiped his cum from my face. Just from standing up, I could feel my body already beginning to ache. I knew it would feel worse in a few hours. I got dressed silently, unable to look at Johan, this younger man who had claimed and broken me like I was some slutty college plaything.

“This didn’t happen,” I said as firmly as I could, forcing myself to face him as I buttoned what was left of my torn, cum-stained blouse. “You hear me? This never happened.”

“Okay, Nikki,” he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious,” I scowled. “Say it.”

“This never happened,” he smirked, rolling his eyes. “I must have dreamed it.”

“And I better see you cheering for Danny tomorrow,” I said, looking at him sternly. “When he breaks your record.”

“You bet,” Johan grinned. “I took something of his, so I guess it’s only fair that he takes something of mine.”

“Okay,” I nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. “Goodnight, then.”

I walked quickly back to my room, my eyes cast downward, praying that I wouldn’t encounter anyone else. My arms were folded, clutching the blouse against my chest, trying to hide the missing buttons and the cum-stains from view.

Quietly, I opened the door to my room and stepped inside, my heart beating wildly as the door clicked shut behind me. I stood there with my eyes closed and listened, holding my breath.

I could hear the sound of Danny’s breathing, smooth and even. He was still asleep. I exhaled a tiny sigh of relief. Then, I climbed into the other bed, pulled the covers up over my head, and lay there, perfectly still, hoping that the sounds of my son’s sleeping peacefully could soothe my soul.

But lying awake, unable to sleep, I couldn’t fathom what I’d done.

It was as if, in the course of a single day, I’d become a totally different person, someone completely unfamiliar to myself. After 14 years as a faithful, dutiful wife, I had cheated on Steve, not once but twice. I’d had sex with my son’s best friend. I’d let him fuck me without a condom. And my body had responded in ways that just didn’t align with the person I thought I was.

I couldn’t help wondering whether Johan was right.

I’d begun the day as Mrs. Kim, a devoted wife and mother. That’s who I thought I was, the person I’d been raised to be. But somehow, I’d ended it as Nikki, an Asian slutwife who gave this young, white stud and his huge cock whatever he wanted.

Maybe Johan had transformed me, just like he’d said he would.

The next day, Danny won the 3×3 championship, breaking Johan’s world record in the process. And Johan, true to his word, was gracious in defeat, cheering him on and posing for pictures with Danny after it was done.

The normalcy of that final day made everything that came before it seem even more surreal. The tournament ended, we said goodbye, and we got on the plane back to LA.

I wish I could say that when we landed back in Los Angeles, we left the events of this story behind us. I wish I could reset myself to the person I was before all of this happened.

But once a puzzle has been solved, its hard to forget the solution. Once the pieces have all clicked into place, it’s hard to remember the way things were beforehand. Because once you’ve seen the solution, it feels like that’s where the pieces belong, where they need to be.

When I look back on that trip–when I think about Johan–my feelings are more complicated than perhaps they should be.

What he did to me was wrong. It was inexcusable, even criminal. At a minimum, he had blackmailed and coerced me into sex against my will. He used me and made me break my marital vows. I’ll never forgive him for any of those things.

But despite it all, his friendship with Danny really was among the most positive influences on my son. In the years before that trip to Sydney, Johan had taken Danny under his wing, shown him the power of friendship, and opened his eyes to the world in ways that my husband and I simply couldn’t. From Danny’s perspective, Johan was his best friend, and that was all he needed to know.

I choose to believe that their friendship was genuine, not some years-long scheme that Johan hatched to build trust with our family in order to get close to me. I choose to believe that this was a crime of opportunity, where Johan used his real friendship with my son to take advantage of me. I choose to believe Johan did a terrible thing to me, but after seeing the way he befriended my son, it’s hard for me to think of him as a truly bad person, even though he ultimately used that friendship to exploit me.

But he did exploit me. And he did change me. How could he not?

I couldn’t undo the things I’d done for Johan. I couldn’t unsay the things I’d said to him. I couldn’t forget the things he had made me feel.

As I boarded the plane back to LA, I heard my husband’s voice echoing inside my mind, telling me to “bring whatever’s gotten into you” back to Cali.

Oh Steve, I thought to myself. Don’t worry. I won’t leave her in Sydney. I couldn’t if I tried.

Like it or not, honey, Nikki’s coming home with me.

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