“For starters,” she nodded. “Girls are supposed to be cute, wear dresses, let men open doors for them, and yet also to be independent. Growing up female is full of oxymorons.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I admitted.
“Why would you?” she says, “you live in a parallel male universe where you’re supposed to hide your feelings, never cry and always man up… you have different rules you’re supposed to follow but they’re still nonsensical rules, and the only real difference between the societal trap you’re stuck in and a woman’s, is that you have a more privileged status.”
“I’ve never seen myself as privileged,” I said, although I agreed with the male expectations bullshit, and was beginning to grasp the idea of different rules but same trap.
“You’re white and male,” she pointed out.
“I guess,” I said, having thought we’d moved past this sexist, racist hierarchy by now, although that was obviously a foolish thought.
“Trust me. I’m Asian, female and disabled,” she explained, not in a woe-is-me way, but as simple facts.
“I don’t see you using any of that as a crutch,” I appraised, “although you’re always polite, you’re also very assertive,” always having thought she was one of the strongest women I knew, after my Mom.
“No, I try to avoid crutches, except for my unavoidable wheelchair,” she agreed, then continuing with, “I’m just trying to explain how the world works. It’s still easier to be a man than a woman, as the men primarily hold the power.”
“In my world I see the opposite,” I said, thinking of the entitled cheerleaders.
“I can see why you would. But if you’d let a few girls know what you’re packing, you would ascend in the hierarchy very quickly,” she said.
“But how does that happen?” I asked,
“Ay, there’s the rub.”
“Quoting Shakespeare,” I smiled.
“I try,” she shrugged. “Women want to enjoy sex, but they get derailed by the idea they’re supposed to be this sophisticated, evolved woman.”
“How did you eschew it?” I asked.
“Nice SAT word,” she smiled.
“I try,” I shrugged with a smile. I like this woman! And even though she just finished sucking my cock, she really understands things.
“I’m Asian,” she continued, “and we are decades behind Westerners in the women’s equality movement. And at least on the surface it appears we are naturally more submissive, although I’m not sure if that’s because of our DNA or because of the long, ingrained history of female expectations by Asian men,” she answered.
“So women are naturally submissive, naturally sluts (not meaning that in a bad way), but they resist that role because of societal expectations,” I said, rephrasing her main idea. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly. And the same idea goes for incest,” she continued.
“Pardon?” I stammered. “How did incest get into this conversation?”
“It all ties in with our sexual needs conflicting with society’s dictates. In Asia, incest is more common. Daughters often please their fathers and mothers, and later on they often use their sexuality to motivate their sons,” she explained as if this were common sense.
“I wish,” I joked.
“I assume you want to fuck your Mother, which is why I brought up incest,” she said, seeing through my joke.
“I plead the fifth,” I said.
“It’s a natural drive,” she said as if she were the Dr. Ruth of incest. “You have spent your entire life admiring her, even if you didn’t realize it. Plus, incest is just a label. To be truthful, I’m surprised we haven’t moved on from the outmoded stigma that it’s inherently wrong.”
“Really?”
“Sure, what person do you love the most in the whole world?” she asked.
“Emilia Clarke,” I joked, Emilia recently named the hottest woman in the world.
“Smart ass,” she said.
“Actually that term is dumb, as nobody’s ass is smart; unless by ass you mean donkey, but they’re smarter than horses, so in that case the term is redundant,” I pointed out.
“This is why you’re single,” she informed me. “You’re a nerd.”
“Touché,” I agreed.
“So I’ll repeat the question. Who do you love the most?”
“My Mom, of course,” I answered.
“And you would do anything for her, right?”
“Of course.”
“And what better way to show her your love than by giving her pleasure?” she asked, even though the question seemed rhetorical.
“Seems logical,” I agreed. I mean, any thought promoting my hope of fucking my Mom was something I could agree with.
“So why the stigma about incest?”
“The law.”
“Fuck the law. It’s made by white, uptight men who cheat on their wives or suck other men off in glory holes,” she said.
“That statement took a turn,” I laughed.
“Just saying, the most pompous self-righteous assholes are often the most morally corrupt.”
“Tough to argue,” I said. “After a pause, I asked, “Have you ever committed incest, no offense?”
“Kevy, you can always ask me whatever you want, and I’ll never take offense. But to answer your question, I’ve enjoyed incest many times: once when my Mother got sick, so I had to take over her role of submissive pleaser,” she explained. “It was the first time I ever felt close to my emotionally distant father.”
“Wow, that’s so kinky!”
“Don’t judge me for that, when you yourself want to become a Mother fucker and your kinky Asian friend wants to help you to succeed,” she said wickedly.
“Ms. Chang, language,” I mockingly acted shocked.
“Language be fucked. Now get over here and face fuck my mouth,” she ordered with a grin. “Time to start your training to become a man.”
“So you want to be my slut?” I asked, as I stood back up, my cock hard and ready to deposit load two.
“I want you to use me as your cum deposit, your submissive cum bucket, and your Asian MILF slut,” she listed off, each term making my hard cock flinch. “Right now I don’t want your respect; I want your cock, your dominance, and your hot load all over my face.”
“I think I can do that,” I said, as I slid my cock in her mouth and began bucking my hips.
Last time she worshipped my cock and gave me a blow job… last time she was in charge.
This time I was.
I started slowly, sliding half my cock in and out of her mouth.
It felt weird to face fuck Ms. Chan. Part of me wanted to face fuck her roughly like I had Portia, the other part of me saw her as the sweet lady down the street.
After a couple minutes of slow pumping, I felt her hands on my ass, and she pulled me into her mouth until she was balls deep around my cock.
She held my crotch against her face for what felt like an eternity, but which was likely only fifteen seconds before she let go and backed off.
“Am I your cum slut or your prissy girlfriend?” she demanded, saliva dripping off her chin.
“Cum slut,” I answered.
“Then take control, buster. Use my mouth for your pleasure. Face fuck me and fill my mouth until your balls bounce off my chin. If I gag, keep going. Be the man who knows what he wants and takes it,” she instructed, easily the most surreal lesson of my life.
“Okay,” I said, sliding my cock back into her mouth, trying to draw out the inner dominant I knew I had in there somewhere.