Author; Ace, Storyace

title;  Japanese woman seeks possition part 1; Coming in America

Codes; M/F, M/F interracial

Summery; Tomo arrives in the US, eager to find love, marriage, and all that entails. 6,100 words

S end any and all comments to; storyace@hotmail.com

For part 2, click here

Single Japanese female, 24, very attractive, homeless tsunami victim, seeks American soulmate with capacity to provide.

Visiting the US San Francisco area in a few weeks...

The plane was descending; my ears popped and I swallowed hard a couple of times to clear them. I could see the land of America getting closer through the window. I wondered; would this big young country become my new home?

Jake met me at the airport; I hadn't seen him for 8 years. His beard was gone, and his waist was larger, but his silly smile was just the same.  We hugged in the American fashion. It felt surprisingly good to be held, and I realized no one had touched me, no one at all, since the flood.

"It's good to see you again, Tomo." He said as he released me.

"And you." I returned, ducking and nodding in the Japanese way. "How is Karen?"

"She's fine, come on, let's get out of here." He said.

The streets and the cars were all so huge; yet the lights weren't as garish as in a Japanese city. Many Americans seemed to be driving trucks instead of cars. I found that very odd, because I knew they were concerned about fuel price rises here, just like everywhere.

I'd met Jake when he was in Japan; we were both just children, but we'd had a nice affair for a couple of months. Since then, much had happened to us both, but we'd kept in touch. Now he had a girlfriend, and I was about to meet her.

I was nervous; but the American woman soon put me at ease.

"Hi! I'm Karen!" she said with that loud American enthusiasm. She hugged me as if I was her long lost sister instead of her husband's old lover.  She was very beautiful, tall and slim, with straight long chestnut hair.

The hug was surprisingly comforting; this woman I'd never met before was expressing more love to me than my entire weeping nation had ever managed.

"You poor girl." She said, holding me tight, like the sister I never had, "I can't even imagine what you've been through. How long is your visa?" she asked.

The house was modest by American standards, but seemed cavernous to me. The furniture was comfortable but slightly frayed.

"I can stay for 3 months." I told her as we sat down.

"3 months to find a husband." She said, "Some people spend their whole life looking."

"The difference for me is that I have to succeed." I told her, "I have no other chance."

"Well, I think they should be lining up for a girl like you." She said graciously. "You can depend on me and Jake to help in any way we can. Right Jake?"

"Absolutely." My old boyfriend said.

I felt the huge weight on my head lift quite a bit. Whether I found a man or not, I had friends here. Back in Japan, I had nothing.

My first date was with a man I'd been flirting with online for a few weeks. I was very disappointed, he looked nothing like the photo he'd posted on the dating site.

"That was taken a few years ago." He explained over dinner.

"How many years exactly?" I asked, "Twenty?"

"No no no!" he protested, "Eighteen maybe."

I actually didn't mind his age at all, but I didn't like that he'd been deceptive. And he was a lot heavier than he looked in the picture, which I really didn't like.

His house was very large, big enough for a hotel I thought. The kitchen was as big as the apartment I grew up in. I have to confess, I found the opulence attractive; this was the America of my dreams, expansive clipped lawns and stately trees lining the roads.

I had an odd urge to sleep with him; I wanted to know what it would be like, and how I would feel about him afterwards. Would his weight be a turnoff? He was quite large around the middle. I was simultaneously attracted and repulsed.

Don was twice my age. I was 24 and he was 48. But I was brought up to appreciate my elders. The stability I was looking for meant I was likely to end up with an older man; and to be honest, I'd always been attracted to older men.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I examined the pictures on his walls; there were children and a dog. I knew his children lived with their mother, but I wondered where the dog was? I love dogs, but never had enough room to have my own.

I knew his eyes were on my ass; that's where men's eyes go, because I have a very tight little bottom. Also, I was wearing a very short skirt and high heels. I wondered again, how would he would be in bed? Perhaps, despite his belly, he would be a great lover, and I could live with him in his big house...

It had been a long time since I'd been with a man. The disaster had left me traumatized and homeless, and I'd been living in a tiny emergency shelter for the last year, trying to get my emotions back into something like a normal state.  It was time to open myself, let someone in, take the plunge and expose myself to pleasure, pain, and the quest for love. Time to open my legs again, time to taste the flesh of a man after so many months of living in devastation.

So I let the time pass, let him tell me his life story, as the evening turned to night.

He was nice to talk to, sympathetic and kind. I was willing, but didn't seem to know how to move us to the next level; I knew he wanted me, but he didn't seem to know how to make the next move. That was reassuring somehow. A smooth man would have been quick to seduce me, and that would have been a warning sign to me.

So I got up and crossed the room to where he was sitting, and gently set my rear end on his lap. He fell silent as I leaned back against his shoulder and hooked one arm around his neck.

I looked into his eyes; there was kindness there, passion, and desire. His hand went around my back, he pulled me tight, and we kissed.

The tension left my head, to be replaced with tension in my groin. For better or worse, the decision had been made; I was going to share my body with this man.

My heart rate increased, my nipples slowly hardened, my juices began to lubricate my vagina after a long drought.  I was fairly sure he wasn't the one, and I would never be his wife. But I'd come so far, waited so long; it was time to throw caution to the winds, and just do it.

Before the tsunami swept away everything I knew, I enjoyed an active social life. I had friends, family, and lovers too.  I was sexually active since 15. But since the sudden utter devastation of my home and my life, I hadn't been with a man. 

His hands were soft and sensuous on my body, his kiss was passionate yet reverent. I massaged his ears and felt his penis bulging big and hot under my ass.

I slid off his lap to the floor. I wanted to get his pants open, I wanted his penis in my hands, and then my mouth. Then I would have him; then I would get what I needed.

I looked up at him as my hands fumbled with his belt. I'm just a small weak woman, but I know where my power is. Our eyes locked, and he was mine.

When I have a penis in my mouth and look into a man's eyes, I own him; his strength, his experience, his property. For those few minutes, it's all mine. He can't harm me. With his sex in my mouth, he's helpless, at my mercy. Men all want to push their penises into the mouths of pretty girls, and as we suck and pleasure them, both sides are aware of our teeth.

Yes! Teeth. With just one contraction of the jaw muscles, a man's sex life is over. We know it, they know it. Yet they push their penises into our mouths, and we pleasure them subserviently. But we know.

My hands found his organ at last; he was nicely sized, about 6 inches and very stiff. I squeezed and stroked him, testing his strength with my fingers.

I released his penis and unlaced his shoes [in Japan we don't wear shoes in the house]. I took them off, then his socks, and massaged his feet a little as his penis bounced around by itself, waiting for me. I pulled off his pants and underwear. His legs were very hairy; that nearly put me off.

Japanese men have sparse body hair; and for the most part, small penises. We Japanese woman all know the trade off; occidental man have big organs, but their hair is on their body instead of their heads. They have no manners, wear shoes in their houses, and don't wash their ass after they defecate. The last is the worst for us. You want your asshole licked? Wash it first!

His cock slid into my mouth like a key into a lock, as if made to fit there. His hands grabbed my head, and he took control.

I didn't like that much; I take pride in my blowjob, I like to think I know how to pleasure a man. I suck and stroke him, tease him, and finally make him come when I choose.

But Don had a different approach; he was really fucking me in the mouth, his fingers tight around my skull as he pulled my face down while pushing his hips up, forcing his penis into the very back of my throat with each thrust, causing me to feel slightly nauseous.

It was kind of horrible; he was using me in a very crude way. Yet I let him do it, I surrendered to him. I found it strangely pleasurable to be a victim, to allow myself to be so humiliated.  I relaxed, enjoying the sensation of the frightening, dominant penis plunging in and out of my throat. I was a fuck toy, a rag doll, worthless. My skill wasn't required, he just wanted to look into my eyes as he used me. His big American penis ruled my brain, captured my emotions, filled my little mouth with its dominant power. It was sexy and reassuring to be desired by him, to have his rough passion.

He stiffened and began to grunt like a pig; I grabbed the base of his cock and his balls too, as they contracted. There was a slight delay, and I wondered where it was; then it came out, blasting into my waiting mouth, warm fresh semen. I sucked and swallowed gratefully, glad to know the comforting taste of hot man once more.  But the taste wasn't nice; it was oddly sour.

When he was through, I had no desire to take things further. I rinsed out my mouth and asked him to take me back to Karen and Jake.

It wasn't his age, or even his weight that put me off. It wasn't the way he used me.

It was his sour semen. How could I marry a man when I didn't like the taste of his sperm?

"It's an hour drive." he complained, "I'll take you in the morning."

So I shared his bed with him; I was tense at first, but he meant me no harm. His big chest rose and fell with his loud breathing, and I lay awake, thinking about my life so far.

I was happy to be as far away from the remains of my homeland as I could get. In America, in bed with an American man. No, I didn't want Don. But I was proud of myself for getting this far, for breaking through my inertia and getting free of Japan. And of having sex of a sort. I needed renewal, I needed to forget all that I had lost.

He snored happily through the night, and didn't make any more demands on me. I imagined I could still feel his penis in my mouth, and despite the taste at the end, it was nice.

My new friend Karen wanted to know everything, right down to the size of his penis. Some girls find that important.

"I can't believe you went ahead with it when you realized he was so old." She said.

 "To me it's more important that he's a decent person. And of course that he can support me; with no higher education, I'll never be able to earn well here, even if I would succeed in getting permission to work." I told her, "I'm not much bothered by age. When I was 17, I was going out with a fifty year old man."

"Really?" she said, "Why?"

"He asked me." I said. "I liked him, we had fun together."

"Was he rich?" she asked.

"Of course!" I said, and we both laughed. "And good in bed too. But..."

"Go on, tell me." She urged.

"Well, sometimes it took a lot of effort to make him climax." I said, surprised at my sudden ability to share my most intimate secrets with her.

"Huh; so the opposite of Jake." She said.

"Really? He still has trouble?" I said.

When I was dating Jake, I'd learned to go down on him a half hour or so before sex, and make him come in my mouth. Otherwise he would come within a minute of penetrating me.

I was just a school girl, 16 years old. We met at a dance party, he was a friend of the American organizer, who was dating a friend of mine. He was exciting, exotic, and foreign; I really enjoyed talking to him and I wanted to improve my English. He soon seduced me, but it was slightly disappointing at first, because he'd come within a minute of putting it in me.

He taught me things; taught me to be intimate with a man, how to kiss, how to cuddle. How to suck him dry first, so we could enjoy long lovemaking afterwards. But his visa ended and he had work in America. I was in love, but I was too young. My mother forbade me to go; she said I should finish school, and when I was 18 I could make my own choices.

In frustration, and perhaps to anger my mother, I started dating her boss.

It was just a joke at first, but I liked him. I eventually let him have me, and to my surprise, I found it very exciting and pleasurable. Despite his age and his small penis, he could really make me come.

By the time our affair ended, Jake was with Karen and I had a job working in a shop.

My second date in America didn't take long to arrange. I'd marked his profile and we'd shared photos before I left Japan; he appeared to be compatible.

Things were awkward at first; he knew my circumstances.

Over dinner in a nice restaurant, we chatted about light subjects while thinking very serious thoughts; could I make this man happy? Could he do the same for me? Should we have sex?

I know I'm very attractive; I'm quite petit, with perfect black hair to my shoulders, a clear complexion, and big dark eyes. I was looking sharp in a long tight crème dress, moderate heels, and subtle makeup. He was also handsome, for an occidental man.

The truth is, I've always been more attracted to Asian men, but I'd had enough of them. When the tsunami had taken my family, business, and home from me, they had all turned me away. None of them wanted a dependant homeless girl.

The only man willing to welcome me into his home was Jake, a settled man I hadn't seen in years.

My date, Bruce, was my age. A good prospect, he earned well and was ready to settle down. But as we ate and talked, it was hard for me to envision a life with him. I imagined he was naked on his back, and I was taking his penis in my mouth.

The fantasy calmed me; I imagined he was rather large, I needed both hands to hold it. I smiled and laughed at his jokes, even though I wasn't quite sure how funny they were.

He paid the bill and we went outside into the cool clear evening air. He stood tall next to me, twice my size and strength. I felt excitement and fear in equal measure. Could he be the one for me? I wanted to have sex with him. The feeling surprised me, because usually I would get to know someone for months before going to bed with him. Perhaps it was the air in America, everything had to be quick here.

"So what should we do now?" he asked, "Do you like to dance? Or we could just drive around."

What I really wanted to do was have his penis in my mouth. Of course, I knew I couldn't say that out loud.

I'm often uncomfortable with regular penetrative sex, but I always enjoy going down on a man. I feel his strength through a stiff male organ, I feel his pleasure in my mouth. It's safe and clean. It makes me feel oddly powerful; no matter how big and strong a man is, when his penis is in my mouth, he's harmless.

Bruce had a small, powerful car. We drove along the waterfront; it was somewhat romantic, but there was a tension between us.

I didn't have time to waste. I needed to decide whether he was a prospect or not; because I didn't believe he could be. He was too energetic, too young, too pretty. Why would he want to take on a girl like me? He could get a high earning American girl who wouldn't ever be a burden. I needed a man to make a commitment, and I had little to offer except my beauty and youth. But I felt I had to give it a chance. It was different in America; away from my culture, with no family or friends to judge me. I could do anything. Just do it, and no one would even know. Besides, I felt the need for some good sex, and a man like Bruce was surely good at it.

"Can we go to your house?" I asked him.

It was a large apartment in a building of four. It was clean but sparsely furnished, a man's place.

We talked some more; we told each other of our pasts, but we were both avoiding any discussion of future. It was getting late.

He put his arm around me and pulled me close. I was surprised, but I didn't mind. He kissed me tenderly, and suddenly I knew what he wanted.

He was a seducer; attractive, successful, looking for the thrill of conquest, sex. He wasn't husband material, he was lying about his desire for a wife. This was just a game to him, he wanted to use me for sex and then dump me. Yet I was quite sure he would satisfy my short term need if I let him.

We petted for a while, and I was getting quite excited. It had been so long since I'd had real sex. It was late and I didn't want to wake Karen and Jake; it would be better to spend the night with Bruce and go home in the morning. I was damp between my skinny thighs; I needed this.

He broke away. "Shall we go to bed?" he asked.

So fast, so crude; well, that was just what I expected from an American. I smiled at him. Just for one night, I thought to myself.

We went to the bedroom and we both undressed in silence. He was very muscular and not at all fat. His blond hair was thin on his head, but his chest was quite hairy, which I found oddly attractive this time. Probably it was just my hormones. His penis was about five inches long, hanging slightly forward from between his legs.

Hopefully, I would find my soulmate soon, I thought to myself. Then I wouldn't do this sort of thing anymore. But at that moment, I was happy to surrender to him. Sex would be good for me, it would clear my head I told myself; but in reality, I was just rationalizing my desire.

Bruce was surprisingly clumsy in bed, his oversized hands and feet didn't seem to know where to go. His tongue found my mouth and seemed to want to reach down my throat, he was hairy and somehow vulgar. But he was strong and gentle; his penis bulged in my hand, growing longer and thicker. Unlike the rest of the man, it was smooth and lovely.

I opened my thighs for him, and his face went to my groin. I held his face in my hands, looking down at him as he went to work.

I'd come to this country to find a husband who could give me a new home, a new life. I would give everything for that; my body, my love, my devotion. But until I found that man, why not have fun?

I didn't used to jump straight into bed with a man like this; and I wasn't sure why I was suddenly doing it now. Perhaps it was like a reset switch, getting my life started again after it was interrupted a year earlier. Perhaps it was the need to get past the awful sex I'd had with Don and his sour sperm.

I'd had a lover before the catastrophe; he worked across the street. We used to flirt through the windows, and then we started going out. He was younger than me, such a sweet boy, with a sweet tongue. I'd taught him how to pleasure a woman, we made no plans and just enjoyed ourselves together.

He was swept away by the flood; so was the street, the whole town where we'd lived. My mother, the little shop, our customers, our lives. But I was still alive, like a ghost, with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Bruce lifted his face out of my vagina.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

It was time to put it all behind me, I was in bed with a man, and I must keep my mind on the present. But the moment was lost for me.

"I'm sorry." I told him, "Suddenly I remembered things I want to forget. Let me take care of you now."

He let me push him onto his back, and I took his stiff organ in my hands to stroke it before going down on him.

Ah, it felt good. He was bigger than my Japanese lover, or Don from the week before. An American size penis, like I wanted. It was larger now that he was fully erect, he was bigger than Don or Jake, or anyone I'd been with actually. It tickled the back of my throat pleasantly as I sucked on him.

He groaned and took my face in his big strong hands, lacing his fingers through my hair. I was happy now; I felt no shame about giving head.

Why, I wondered, did I feel shame at receiving it? As if I would be betraying the dead were I to feel sexual satisfaction.

My lips stroked the head of his quivering rod, feeling him, tasting him. His heat, his energy, his power. It was all mine, I was flying him like a pilot, his stick in my mouth, all of him all mine. His big penis filled my mouth, filled my head, filled my void. My pain was displaced by it, by his sexual energy, his carnal pleasure. As long as that alien organ filled my head, I was free.

I bobbed my head up and down, staring into his blue eyes, my thick black hair falling over his pale thighs, my fingers tickling his big hairy balls. I stopped when he got too close, blowing on his wet rod to cool him down. I sucked him for a long time, late into the night, enjoying it as much as he did. I didn't want it to end; with his big penis in my mouth, with his eyes staring at me in such adoration, I felt calm and secure. I was enjoying his pleasure, it was sex that didn't make me feel guilty. His penis bulged and pulsed between my lips as I stroked him, his energy flowing through the organ and into my soul. It was as though I was plugged into an energy source, and I just needed to keep him hard and on the edge as my own battery charged. Until at last, he couldn't take any more.

A primal gurgle came from his throat as his stomach tensed, his balls contracted, and my mouth was filled with hot flowing semen.

He bucked and strained, his big powerful body barely under control as he gave me his seed. I pulled him with my hands, sucked and swallowed, pulled and worked him until there was no more. He tasted fine and sweet, like a man should. I drank it greedily, feeling his warm energy filling my belly, spreading through my body.

American, Japanese, men are all the same when they come. So dangerous, yet at the same time harmless. I always take great pleasure in it, I love it when they look at me that way, when they grunt and squirt. I love the taste, the sensation, the power.

Well, I do give good head.

The next day I talked it over with Karen.

"I know what you mean." She said, "Some guys just seem a little too smooth. Was he good in bed at least?"

"I don't know, we only had oral." I said, "He was nice, normally that's what I like best, but it's still hard for me to... you know."

"Really, you like oral better?" she asked; "Giving and receiving?"

"Yes." I told her. "I feel very comfortable with it in my mouth, but in my vagina, then I'm often nervous."

"What about anal?" she asked, "Have you tried that?"

"No." I said, "Have you?"

"Sure; it can be good sometimes. What about kissing?" she asked.

"Oh, I can happily kiss for hours with the right man." I said.

"Really? I get bored of it after a minute or two." She said.  "So we need to find you a rich older man who likes to kiss." She said.

"And have head." I added.

She laughed; "Let's look online."

Over the next few days, I had skype video calls with several men in the area, while Karen listened in. She rejected two, and I made a date with the last one.

"I've never been with a black man before." I told her.

"He's not black, he's Indian." She said.

"He looks black to me." I said. "How will I know if he wants the same things I do though?"

"It's tough." She told me, "Here in America, the norm is to date for a couple of years, then move in together for a few more years, then have a kid, and then, maybe, get married. When a woman is outright looking to marry a man who can support her, American guys get spooked, they think you're a gold digger."

"Gold? I only want to live." I told her, tears suddenly welling in my eyes, "I just want love and life, a man and a home."

"I know, sweetheart." She said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I was touched at her compassion for me. We had become good friends, more than friends. We were sisters now, she was my confidant and advisor.  

"Next time, why don't you let me do the hard talking?" she suggested, "You can be the sweetie pie, and I'll ask them about their prospects and about whether they're ready to commit."

"That's a good idea." I said, "In cultures that have arranged marriages, the family always does that. In India the mothers of the bride and groom meet first. I suppose Arjun just wants to have sex with me, I don't think an Indian man would marry a Japanese girl. They have lots of family pressure."

"If you have sex, try it in the ass." She told me. "You can learn a lot about a man that way."

I actually went out with Arjun 3 times before we did it. I understand that's the correct etiquette in America. There was chemistry between us, and from the first time he touched me, I knew we were going to have good sex.

He wasn't very dark skinned, but light brown. His hair was thick and black, his eyes dark and smoldering, his hands gentle and passionate.

He held me down, his grip firm on my upper arms as he kissed me; I was helpless, my nipples aching for his lips, my mouth watering for his penis.

His apartment was modest compared to the other men I'd dated, but I knew he was an IT engineer with one of the big firms, and his future looked bright. I know the Americans think everything should matter except a man's prospects, but for me they're a big part of the package.

He fumbled with my blouse, so I pushed him away while I took off my clothes. I found it a bit reassuring that he had no idea how to undress a woman. He watched, staying dressed for the moment. Naked, I twirled around in front of him, laughing in exhilaration as my hair swung out behind me. I sat on his lap and put my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair.

He was 31 years old, some years older than me. Was he prepared to make the commitment I needed? At that moment, I didn't care. I was in the mood for love, and I could feel a big hot penis swelling under my tight little bottom. This time, I told myself, I wouldn't be a coward. I'd let that cock get into my vagina.

We kissed for a long time; his fingers stroked my back and neck as his tongue gently explored my mouth. It was very nice. I unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it away from his torso, so that I could scratch my nipples over his breast. His upper body was smooth and hairless, the way I like it.

Finally, he took my hand and led me to his bed; setting me down carefully, as if I were a ceramic doll, he took off his shoes and finally, his trousers and underwear. He wasn't very tall, but still towered over me unless I wore high heels. He was thin and soft bodied, almost like a woman.

He wasn't huge, but had nothing to be ashamed of.

I let him do as he wished; somehow I knew he was a man who needed to be in charge. He pulled my thighs apart and fingered me as we kissed, and I stroked his stiff dark penis. He got on his knees between my open thighs and pushed into me, penetrating, entering.

That nearly forgotten feeling of terror and desire as my body was violated, pierced, invaded by a man's quivering, eager organ.

It had been a long time; years, ages since a penis had been there. It took a minute for me to relax, to accept him; but after that it became better and better, he pumped in and out, his brown naked body warm and dominant above me, penetrating, pumping me, ruling me. Until at long last, I came.

Holding my brown lover tight, his body surging and striving, pushing and pumping within me, his penis deep in my slim body. I could feel him inside, feel his life and heat, his strength and his need.

I tensed and cried out in passion, unable to keep control as orgasm washed across me, my little body clenching my lover desperately. He came with me, his juices flowing into me as the two of us became one, two strangers in a bed far from our homes.

Afterwards, we lay in each other's arms, kissing gently. It was good sex, he was a good man, and it would be so easy to fall in love.

It turned out he wasn't for me; he had his own visa worries. We saw each other several more times, because we had a great time together. I really enjoyed being with Arjun, he made me laugh a lot and he was good in bed too.

He wanted me to come back to India with him, but when I researched it I found that I would have to leave that country if we ever got divorced or if he were to die before me, regardless of how much time I lived there. I could have no security with him.

Besides, even though I did love him, I didn't want to move to India.

I talked to Karen about it; she seemed to get quite excited by the sexual details.

"I was never with a black or colored man." She told me, "It's funny, but even today it's kind of forbidden. We're supposed to pretend it's normal, but there's something primal in us that knows it's not, don't you think?"

"Yes." I agreed, "In Japan, a girl who has been with a foreigner is forever tainted, even a white foreigner."

"So there's a pecking order?"

"Of course, like everywhere. But in Japan people are more blunt about it. They aren't ashamed of their racism."

"So did you find the color thing made it more exciting?" she asked.

"Yes." I admitted. "And the culture gap too."

"So now you only have six weeks to find a husband." Karen said. "We'd better get to it."

We checked my messages, and I had a new "interest received" from the dating site.

"He looks nice." I said.

"Come on, he's far too old." Karen said, "Don't sell yourself too cheap. Here, what about this guy, Tom?"

"He's black." I pointed out.

"Yes, and really good looking, don't you think? Look, he's interested in marriage, and has his own house."

"I don't think so." I said. "I like the older man better."

"It's the negro thing, isn't it?" Karen pressed me, "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Maybe." I said. "But also, I've always been attracted to older men."

"But that guy is sixty five! Will you still want to be with him in ten years? Or twenty? Think about it, even if he's healthy now, the odds are against it lasting for long."

"Well, now that they have Viagra, age isn't as important." I pointed out. "An older man is more stable, he knows what he wants. He's less likely to leave me for someone else."

"You're much too insecure, Tomo. You're a hot woman, there will always be men for you."

"But I want one man who will stay with me to the end." I said.

"Well with that one it would surely be his end well before yours. Come on, let's send Tom an interest." Karen insisted, "Just for fun."

The man replied a few hours later; he lived a few hundred miles north. We chatted online while Karen looked on.

"Let's call him on skype." Karen suggested.

She watched as I talked to him. It was different when I could see a face, watch his expressions as we talked. He was good looking, but the truth was that I couldn't make that leap. He was black, a negro, of African descent. Even though he seemed to have everything on my list, I just couldn't get over my prejudice. I was afraid of him, it made no sense and I knew it, but that's the truth.

She wrote a note and showed it to me. "Invite him over."

But I ignored her and ended the call a short time later.

"He isn't the right man for me." I told her.

"I thought he was really sexy" she said.

"Yes, but I need a husband." I reminded her, "And he just didn't seem like that to me."

"Because he's black?" Karen challenged.

"I don't know; perhaps that's part of it." I admitted, "If I had time to experiment, maybe I would go out with him. I'm going to respond to that other man, Jerry."

"Oh come on! He's a fossil!" Karen cried.

"I just want to talk to him." I said defensively.

The truth was that I always had an attraction to older men. Jerry was much older; forty one years older, nearly my grandfather's age. His profile pictures showed him with a fine big house and a yacht. I found him exciting, with his craggy face and bald head.

For part 2, click here

This story is fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead; well, never mind that part.

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