History repeats itself, but no two stories go exactly the same way. Tones change, details change, endings change—no remix is note-perfect. Sometimes things change for the worse; first as tragedy, then as farce, as the saying goes. Other times things change for the better as if, like with so many other things in life, fate needs a few tries to get things right. And perhaps one thing sets up another, months or years down the road.

This story began twenty years ago, in a little student flat by the banks of the river. In those days, a young student walked each day down the riverside walk and the tree-lined streets to university. Her name was Tadame Fukui (or Fukui Tadame in her birth country's fashion) and she had come from overseas, supported by well-off family.

Tadame brought to her new education the same drive and hard work she had needed to get through the strict schooling back home. She enjoyed her new-found freedom, joining societies and making friends, but feared to dip into it too deeply; the all-night parties missed her, the nightclub scene never saw her face. She never put a foot wrong.

But many people saw her, mingling at sports society socials before leaving early, or taking notes attentively in lectures whilst other students stared blearily through their hangovers. They admired her as she walked down the riverside to and from her studies, dainty and elegant in her exotic beauty. She was slim and short with a petite figure, her dusky skin and raven hair drawing the eye without fail. In summer she wore short skirts and minishorts, showing off her long, slim legs; in winter she wore jeans so tight they displayed every contour of her firm buttocks and slender, but still womanly hips. Her breasts were small but perky, just enough to cup your hands around in an erotic little fantasy, be they covered by a tanktop in the warm or a jacket in the cold. And whatever the season, her dark eyes and small mouth, her gentle features and flowing raven hair kindled fire in boy's hearts.

It went without saying that one of them wormed his way into her good graces. He was tall and well-built, a cocky smirk forever on his lips and a flirtatious comment ever on his tongue, and Tadame was an easy mark for his charms. She wasn't stupid but she was sheltered, and there was a thrill in getting such attention from an attractive young man. There hadn't really been time back home, and she had lusts just like anyone else. Before long they were a common sight walking together back and forth from lectures, and one evening, he did more than just walk her home.

After that it was just a matter of time. At first they stopped short of sex but he pushed her constantly, ground down her defences with honeyed words. She was starstruck by his attention and addicted to his touch—she had never masturbated, and when he first touched her through her panties the feeling was almost overwhelming. He found her clitoris easily, rubbed and played with it until she was caught in the grip of orgasm for the first time in her young life, and of course he playfully demanded payback. She was intimidated then, when he drew his dick from his trousers. She had never seen one before, and she'd heard plenty of whispers from friends back home saying that white boys were longer and thicker by far than the ones their own boyfriends had. He'd heard the stories too, and played on them to impress her. He wasn't huge, the boy who seduced her. But he was big enough that her naive mind remembered the stereotypes, and she worshipped him for it. She worshipped him with her hands the first night, then with her mouth the second, then with whatever he demanded—save for sex. Until one night, as he teased her until she wanted to scream, she gave in.

She had no condoms, precisely so she would have an excuse not to give up her virginity. But in the heat of the moment none of that seemed to matter.

"You know what my finger feels like," he whispered in her ear and started to remind her. "And you know how much better two fingers feel," he purred, slipping another one in as she moaned. Then he pressed his throbbing cock towards her, "Well this is much bigger than two fingers, isn't it? Imagine how good my huge, strong, white cock will feel inside you, sweet thing. Don't you want it?"

She wanted it. She needed it. And so, in the heat of the moment, she let him have it.

She was so wet it hardly hurt when he took her virginity, sliding into her like a man easing himself into a warm bath, and letting out a sigh equally as happy and relaxed. She was heaven; she was worth all the sexless walks and the patient breaking of boundaries. He'd been screaming inwardly with frustration about how hard she was to convince, had been getting impatient dealing with her prudish shyness, forcing himself to smile understandingly and accept the painfully slow progress of their relationship. Only the promise of her sweet little asian pussy had gotten him through it; he'd known the rumours as well as her, hyping up his 'big white dick' so he could find out if the tales of impossibly tight, hot asian snatches were true.

And now, sheathed inside her, iron-hard penis wedged in what lay between her soft and slim thighs, he knew it had all been worth it. The rumours were true, or he'd lucked out, but either way she was his now, and it was time to savour her.

He took command, and she marvelled at his confidence and strength. Her lithe and limber frame wrapped around him as he began to thrust, gently at first, then with a vigour and power that made her cheap student bed creak with the strain. It was drowned out only by the high-pitched cry of her voice, becoming louder and louder, gasping dirty admonitions into his ear. He had been right; his fingers had been nothing next to the solid tool that plunged rythymically into her, stretching her out and filling her up with more pleasure than she knew how to cope with.

Again, she wasn't stupid. She'd made him promise to pull out, to not finish inside her, rightly fearing what it could mean. But she was so naive that it bordered on stupidity. She'd hyped him up, and for all that she knew in her cooler moments that he was just another student horndog, in these heated moments of passion she worshipped him. He was her hung foreign lover, a figure of endless strength and boundless masculinity, with a huge ivory-white prick that she was blessed to have the chance to taste. And as he plunged into her deepest places, places nobody had ever touched before, he was living up to the hype.

But inside he was struggling. It's an unfortunate fact that many of the things men say about sex are questionable at best, and at the end of the day he'd have said anything to get this luscious asian lady into bed. And he was starting to fear that the impatience he had battled for so long was about to finally get its revenge. He was high on the excited rush that comes with sexual conquest, with finally achieving his fantasy and bedding the imfamously shy and beautiful Tadame, and that excitement was thrumming through his young male body. On top of that, now his fantasy had become reality he was starting to realise just how genuinely, overwhelmingly good her tight asian pussy felt. Put bluntly, he was getting ready to blow and she wasn't even halfway there. Worse, he couldn't even admit it without ruining the macho image he had worked so hard to cultivate.

But he hadn't gotten so cocky from a history of failure, and he hadn't made a name for himself by letting girls down. He might not care too deeply about his flings, but he damn well cared about their pleasure; being good in the sack was a mark of pride, a sign of being a man, and girls flock to the bed of boys who can please them. So he always did his best to do just that.

He hadn't had this problem since his first awkward flings, and wasn't used to dealing with it. He knew that in theory, finishing first didn't have to be the end of things; he still had hands, and a tongue. But it would be anticlimatic and moodbreaking under the circumstances, an embarassment to mar what should have been the night of a lifetime. So he resolved to last. He tried controlling his breathing, which helped. He resisted the urge to pant with exertion, to sniff her sweet-smelling hair and skin, to gasp from the pleasure every time he pierced her silk-soft and vice-tight pussy. The breathing techniques which gave him stamina on the playing field did the same in the bedroom, but he could tell it wasn't going to be enough.

Next he swapped positions. She moaned pitiably as he pulled out, buying his overtaxed cock a few seconds to cool down, and looked briefly questioning as he shifted on the bed, propping pillows underneath her hips and pushing her legs up either side of his head. He'd thought for a second about taking a break, going back to using his fingers, but her reaction to those few sexless seconds told him that she wouldn't buy it, and he couldn't think of an explanation that would save his ego. So he plunged back inside and started plowing away, feeling a bit better, hoping that maybe the brief distraction had been all he needed. It wasn't. Like a stitch, the second he started moving again the need came back in force.

But this position had benefits. He could pierce deeper inside her from this angle, give her more pleasure with each stroke. And now their bodies weren't locked together, he could more easily touch her clitoris. Before it had been stimulated indirectly by the grinding of their bodies against each other, but now his fingers could play with it directly. She tensed at that and he slowed a little, and in that combination he saw a route to victory. He could set a slower pace, with strong but steady thrusts that wouldn't overwhelm him as quickly, making up the difference by rubbing her clit until she came. Then he could pull out, and come on her-

"Faster! Harder! Don't slow down!" And her slim hips began rocking desperately against him. The plan disintegrated as he was forced to speed up once again, looking every inch the cool, confident alpha male whilst inside he strained to hold on. Tadame squealed as he picked the pace back up, blissfully oblivious, curling her dainty toes on either side of his head as he redoubled his powerful thrusting. Maybe, he thought to himself, if I go twice as fast, she'll come twice as fast? I'll come quicker too, but maybe I can keep a handle on it better than she does-

He tried, and quickly realised it was a mistake: before long he was forced to slow down, or else tap out then and there. Meanwhile, Tadame obviously got the wrong idea:

"Why are you teasing me?" she moaned. "Stop it! You know I need it, give it to me hard and fast! Please!" So he picked up again as soon as it felt safe.

On it went, several times, him fucking at full strength for as long as he could maintain it before slowing down again, sometimes swapping positions for a brief respite. And the skill which had so rarely failed before shone through: Tadame, who loved every second of it, eventually found herself teetering on the edge just as much as he was. But it was so frustrating—every time she got close to cumming, he slowed back down! Each time she thought he'd allow her to go over the edge, he stopped her before it could happen. She knew he knew what he was doing, and she knew that when she finally did cum it would be better than ever before, both from the strength of his big white dick and from the need built up from the constant false starts. But she was losing patience.

"Please, no more! No more teasing! Just fuck me good and hard, make me come! Please! I want to cum all over your huge, mighty white cock! Do it to me! Come on!"

And so, knowing he couldn't keep this up for much longer, he inwardly shrugged his shoulders and just went for it. His mind went into a trance as he tried to focus on other things, but football scores and old nuns alike were blown from his head in an instant by her sensuality. So instead he tried picturing how success would feel, how good it would be to have her as his own after she'd come and all this was over, when he could keep her around as a fuckbuddy until the next girl came along, or until she learned about his nightclub fling the other night. He'd just make sure she sucked him off before the fucking, next time. She adored him enough to do it. So he went at it with everything he had, intent on finally driving her to the finish line before him.

He succeeded. Mere moments before his cracking stamina finally shattered, his thrusting cock drove Tadame over the edge. She convulsed in ecstacy, screaming his name, locking her legs around him and clinging on for dear life. It was everything she had dreamed of. It was more. It was the most pleasurable experience of her young life. There was only one catch.

Her legs were locked around his hips, their tight squeezing stopping him from pulling out. And it was high time he did. As her convulsing pussy added to the strain on his twitching cock, driving it inexoriably towards the point of no return, he sought a way to extricate himself from the sitution. In the few moments left to him, he couldn't find one. And as the asian beauty thrashed against him he imagined how good it would feel to cum inside her bare, and decided to just see what happened.

Ah, god, it was worth it. It was worth every groaning, gasping second of glorious release, feeling briefly like he was going somewhere out of this world, where choirs of pretty angels waved and cheered as he was bathed in the silver rush of ecstacy, blast after blast of sticky white love surging into her fertile little womb. He emptied his balls into her, giving her every drop he had, blasting his load as deep as it would go as orgasm overtook him, until he slipped regretfully back down to reality, seeing his satisfied lover gasp for breath beneath him and realising what he'd done.

She didn't, at first. For a while she just stared at him with thanks and admiration, glowing with the powerful orgasm she had just recieved. It was only after she saw him pull out, felt the warmth within her, that it slowly dawned on her what had happened.

"You-you promised-"

"I tried," he lied, "but in the moment, all I could think of was pleasing you. And then it was too late. Your asian body was too good; it squeezed my big cock too tightly. And it was wonderful. Thank you." But all his silvery words couldn't quell her panic, as his sticky white load began to ooze out of her still-twitching pussy.

Things went badly for Tadame after that.

Oh, it didn't all fall apart at once. He even fucked her a few more times before the end. But when the baby bulge began to show he was gone.

Her family supported her, but they also practically disowned her. They sent her money, but she was alone. She was smart, though, and with her naivete shattered she could even use it. And it turned out she was tough. She got through her course and even found work, though she rarely found a man who didn't burn her. All the while she raised her daughter as best she could, giving her an upbringing less strict and sheltered than her own had been. And she taught her not to trust the promises of boys, because even when they made good on their offered happiness, the cost was always too high.

Eventually a girl called Erica Fukui applied to the local university. Since she'd chosen her hometown in which to study, rather than somewhere on the other side of the world, she walked down the same route her mother had taken: down by the riverside, passing without realising it the old student flats where she had been concieved. Then she would skip through the tree-lined streets to lectures where she would study hard, admittedly sometimes with a bit of a hangover. She was slim like her mother, with the same raven hair and dainty features, but in other ways her unknown father's line shone through. It made her tall and curvaceous, boasting wide hips, bouncing breasts and a large, round butt in place of the lithe, pert frame that her mother had regained with hard work and determination after her birth.

Sooner or later, she met a boy.

History repeats itself. But no two stories go exactly the same way.