[FM] Giving a Japanese Judge His First American Pussy

I was in my first year of law school, buried in legal texts and late-night study sessions. Our university hosted Japanese scholars studying the U.S. legal system, a program spanning decades. One scholar, "Kenji, was actually a judge back in Japan—a young one, he was like in his 30's or something. He became a regular in the library. He was quite handsome—lean, about 5'11", with short, jet-black hair, sharp cheekbones, and intense dark eyes behind thin glasses. I've always kind-of had a thing for Asian men.

His English was rough. He always wore tailored sweaters, carrying a worn notebook filled with meticulous notes.

One evening, the library was nearly empty, and Kenji was reviewing notes for something. I'd been tossing him flirty glances and small talk for weeks—about his life back in Japan—trying to crack his reserved demeanor. He'd blush, stumble over words, but never brushed me off. That night, I took a shot.

"Hey, Kenji," I said, sliding into the seat beside him, my brown hair in a loose bun. My fitted navy top and leggings hugged my curves. "Studying hard?"

He looked up, startled, adjusting his glasses. "Uh… yes. Case… hard," he said, his accent thick, words deliberate.

"You need a break," I smiled, leaning closer. "There's a lounge a few streets away. Live music tonight. Come with me, around 7."

His eyes widened, unsure. "Me? With… you?"

"Yeah," I grinned. "It's fun. I'll show you." He nodded hesitantly. "Okay. I go."

By 7 PM, Kenji met me outside the library, sharp but nervous in that same suit. We walked to the lounge, the city streets gleaming from earlier rain. His broken English slowed our chat—he mentioned Japan, I shared law school struggles—but his effort was endearing.

The lounge was warm, a blues band tuning up on a small stage. We grabbed a corner booth, and I ordered a gin and tonic for me, a beer for him. "To new adventures," I toasted, clinking glasses. He smiled, sipping cautiously.

Drinks loosened him up, and we talked despite his language barrier. He described his judicial research, and I teased him about never exploring the city. When the band started, I nudged his leg. "Dance?" I asked, nodding to the swaying crowd.

He shook his head. "No… bad dance."

"Come on," I said, pulling his hand. "I'll teach you." On the dance floor, I placed his hands on my hips, swaying to the slow rhythm. I pressed close, letting him feel my curves. His grip tightened, eyes flickering with caution and desire. "You're doing great," I whispered.

After a few songs, we were warm. "Need air?" I asked. Outside, the cool night hit us, and I leaned against the wall, smirking. "Having fun?"

"Yes," he said softly, eyes lingering. "You… fun."

"Glad you think so." I stepped closer, chest brushing his. "My place is nearby. Want to hang out? No pressure."

He paused, then nodded. "Yes. Okay."

At my apartment, I kicked off my boots and tossed my bag aside. "Get comfy," I said, pointing to the sofa. He sat, hands clasped, nervous.

I grabbed sparkling water and sat close, knee against his. "So," I said, hand on his thigh, "what do you think of American girls?"

He blushed, stumbling. "You… strong. Beautiful."

"Strong's fun," I said, leaning in, lips close. "Can I kiss you?"

He nodded, and I kissed him, slow then deep, my tongue teasing his. His hands found my waist, hesitant but eager. I straddled him, feeling him harden. I pulled back, grinning. "You like this?"

"Yes," he murmured, hands sliding up my sides. I shed my clothes, revealing a lacy purple bra and matching lace panty. His breath caught, and I guided his hands to my chest. "Go ahead, look," I teased. He cupped my breasts, thumbs grazing my nipples under my bra, and I moaned softly.

I kissed him fiercely, tugging off his clothes to reveal a lean, toned chest. My fingers traced his skin, making him shiver. "You're gorgeous," I whispered, nibbling his ear. That sparked him—he pulled me closer, kissing with unexpected heat.

I slid to my knees, undoing his belt. "Okay?" I asked. He nodded, eyes dark. I pulled down his pants, revealing his cock—hard, about six inches, with a gentle upward curve. It was smooth, a warm tan matching his skin, the head a deep, flushed pink, slightly glistening. Subtle veins ran along the shaft, thick enough to feel substantial but not overwhelming, perfectly proportioned to his frame. I ran my fingers along it, savoring its warmth, and he groaned, low and raw. I ran my tongue along it, savoring its warmth and faint saltiness, then took him into my mouth, sucking slowly, then faster, my hand working the base. He groaned, fingers in my hair, muttering, "Good… so good."

I stood, taking off my bra and panties. His eyes devoured me. I straddled him, guiding his cock to my entrance, wet and ready. "Want this?" I asked, hovering.

"Please," he said, voice rough. I sank down, gasping as his curved shaft filled me, hitting just the right spot. He groaned, hands on my hips as I rocked slowly. I slid his glasses off, setting them aside. "Better?" I teased.

He nodded, pulling me into a messy kiss. I moved faster, pressure building. His hands roamed my back, thighs. He thrust up, and I moaned, nails in his shoulders. "Fuck, Kenji," I gasped.

He thrust harder, control slipping. "You… like?" he asked, voice shaky.

"Fuck yes, I love it," I panted, grinding harder.

He groaned, hands on my ass. "Want… taste you," he said, almost pleading. I nodded, lying back on the sofa, legs spread. He knelt, licking my clit cautiously, then bolder as I guided him. "Like that." My orgasm hit hard, shaking as I pulled him closer.

"Fuck, that was so good," I gasped. "Did I taste good?"

"Yes… so good," he said, breathless. I pulled him up, kissing him, tasting myself. I climbed onto him again, guiding his cock inside. "Did you like that?" I asked, rocking my hips.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, thrusting up. I rode harder, his hands gripping my ass. "Fuck me… hard," I whispered.

He slammed into me, losing himself. "Close," he grunted.

"Cum inside me," I said. "Sure?" he asked, strained.

"Fuck yes, cum in me!" I urged. He groaned, pulling me down as his cock pulsed, filling me. I followed, climax crashing as I clenched around him.

We caught our breath, foreheads touching. "Messy," I teased, brushing sweat from his brow, kissing his cheek, tasting salt.

He stayed the night, and we kept going. More for another time.

Thanks for reading!