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Cultural Differences	By : LalaMoped Category: +M to R > Ouran High Host Club Views: 2602 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club or affiliated characters. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cultural Differences
- 1
This is a side oneshot to my ongoing Ouran story over on ff.net, and features a character introduced there. Even without reading that, though, it shouldn't be too hard to follow.

One of the first things he noticed was that she wore her shoes in the house. This wasn’t a big deal; he may have owned the condo, but it was her home, and he felt she had the right to do what she wanted with it. Plus he knew it gave her a confidence boost to wear her heels.

Mori didn’t know the terminology for women’s shoes. Stilettos, sandals, wedges, pumps: they were all words he’d heard, but he’d be at a loss to try to categorize Amelia’s sizable collection into any of the four terms. All he knew was that all of her heels were a minimum of four inches high, and she wore them at all times. Not that he minded… Especially when he got to watch her doing chores in them.

He lounged on the plum-colored couch, attempting to look disinterested as she dusted the TV and entertainment center. The hot summer weather had encouraged her to wear a thin tank top and the shortest denim skirt he thought he’d ever seen. His eyes traveled down her long, ballet-toned legs and came to rest on the strappy sky-high shoes that she had chosen for the day. The scene in front of him couldn’t have been sexier if she’d been wearing a French maid uniform.

Amelia leaned over to (unnecessarily) dust the underside of the shelf, and Mori caught a peek of her lacy thong. She was probably wearing a matching bra, he thought, considering her obsessive need for things to coordinate. Mori swallowed hard and tried to redirect his thoughts, but his pants were already getting tight.

Click, click, click went her shoes as she left the sitting room and tucked her cleaning supplies back into the broom closet in the attached kitchen. He didn’t know how she walked on the tiny pegs she called heels, let alone how she could always be so graceful while doing so. He shifted his hips in the hopes that he could gain some extra room in the front of his trousers, but neither his manhood nor the fabric seemed interested in cooperating with him.

Amelia finally let herself collapse on the couch, too hot and tired to do anymore housework, and Mori watched with rapt attention as a bead of sweat ran down her neck and disappeared between her generous breasts. He swallowed as she arched her back and stretched gracefully like a swan or a cat. Mori sighed through his nose; he was too horny to try to equate her with an animal at the moment. He already felt like a sick bastard for being able to get riled up over her shoes, he wasn’t about to venture into bestiality territory.

“Something wrong?” she asked, noticing that he was being quieter than usual (a hard distinction to make, but she’d managed). She’d asked him that just in time for the light to glint off of her sparkly pink-painted toenails, and he decided that he’d been strong enough for one day.

She didn’t protest when he stood abruptly and lifted her to carry her to the bedroom. In fact, she wrapped her willowy legs around his waist, hiking her skirt up and pressing her thinly-clad opening against his impatient rod. Their lips locked in a heated kiss as Amelia ground her hips against her fiancé’s. He really did amazing things to her; at the mere mention that he wanted to fuck her, she could be ready for him within seconds, and, though it was rarely ever needed, Mori was never stingy with foreplay. He was always eager to stroke a kiss every part of her he could reach, and it was for that reason that Amelia kept regular waxing appointments.

Mori deposited her on the bed, before dropping to his knees and taking her shoed foot into his hands. He kissed the sensitive little nub of bone that protruded from her ankle before darting his tongue out and running it down the thin heel of her shoe and back up to the bone. Amelia propped herself up on her elbows to watch him worship her foot before he moved on and repeated his actions on the other. If her own OCD hadn’t forced her to keep both her feet and shoes squeaky clean, her knowledge of Mori’s special… inclination would have. Watching him was making her needy, though, and she reached down and began massaging her clit.

The action wasn’t lost on him, and he took lips and tongue and teeth on a trip up her leg, brushing her hand out of his way and nuzzling against her clothed mound. He could smell her arousal and feel it through the lace, and he pulled away just long enough to strip her skirt and panties from her legs before he dove back in.

Usually-taciturn Amelia threw her head back and erupted with an appreciative cross between a moan and a wail. For someone who didn’t talk much, Mori had the most talented tongue on the planet. He pushed her thighs wider and parted her smooth lips with his thumbs, dragging his tongue from front to back to front again. She bucked against his face, and he only pressed in harder, stabbing his wet muscle inside of her and tasting her essence. She was intoxicating.

He moved onto her clit then, shoving a finger inside of her to replace his tongue and raking the appendage over her g-spot as he suckled on the sensitive pearl. It didn’t matter how good he was, Amelia would get nowhere without some clitoral stimulation. He could tell from the way she tightened around his finger that she was getting close.

“Takashi,” she whimpered. “I’m… Oh, yes! Right there,” she suddenly gasped in English. Mori knew that when he could get her speaking her native tongue during sex, he was doing a good job. That was another thing that was different between her and Japanese women for him to add to the list: the shoes and the language.

Both sexy, Mori thought briefly before he felt her tense and scream as her orgasm finally shot through her. As she lay trying to catch her breath, Mori stood and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes followed his hands as his shirt slowly parted, to reveal his toned torso. He may have had a thing for her feet, but she definitely had a thing for his chest.

Amelia sat up as Mori threw his shirt aside and stepped up to her. He removed her tank top and lacy strapless bra (which did in fact match her underwear, as Mori had guessed) while she hungrily attacked his belt and tore his zipper down, hastily pulling his pants and boxer briefs down his hips in one go. They got to his knees, and he kicked them the rest of the way off before joining Amelia on the bed.

Their lips locked once more as he settled between her thighs, feeling her warmth against his cock and setting his entire body ablaze. He spared a hand from toying with her nipples long enough to guide his painfully hard shaft into her waiting core. Cumming was always good, but the sensation of her soft, warm walls when he first entered her would probably always be his favorite moment. She tilted her head back and moaned as his lips found her delicate neck and he set a slow, steady pace.

Mori was the most patient man he knew—not that he knew anyone else who’d been presented with the opportunity to fuck his busty blonde bombshell of a girlfriend, but he guessed that if anyone else ever did have the chance, they wouldn’t show nearly the kind of restraint he did.

“Faster,” she begged, and when she didn’t feel her plea was adequately heeded, she locked his hips between her knees and rolled them over so she was on top. Holding herself up on his chest, she went into full splits while riding his cock. Mori hated her parents (mostly because she did), but he had to be grateful to her elitist mother who’d put her in ballet lessons as soon as she could walk.

Despite how much he was enjoying her display of flexibility, though, he couldn’t let her continue to do all the work. What kind of a gentleman would that make him? With the blonde still impaled on his dick, he stood, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him again. He could feel her heeled shoes on his ass, and growled deep in his chest. As he put her back down on the bed, she raised an eyebrow.

“If I let you be in charge, are you actually going to do your job?”

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t,” he replied, sliding his hands up and down her legs.

She smirked, “Trust me, you’ll have to step up your game.”

That was all the encouragement Mori needed. He grabbed her ankles and put them on his shoulders before whispering, “Be careful what you wish for.” She only had a second to look intrigued before he pulled back and slammed back into her. He continued like this, fast and hard, and all Amelia could do in this position was hold on and pray that her neighbors didn’t call the police for all the screaming that was going on next door.

He breathed heavily through his nose and ignored Amelia’s perfectly manicured nails digging into his biceps. He’d have interesting marks later, but it was most likely that the only one who would see them would be Mitsukuni, and he’d just give Mori a knowing grin and go about his business. Besides, he didn’t have time to think about that when he could feel his release fast approaching and Amelia was, once again, encouraging him in English, meaning she wasn’t far off either.

He wouldn’t be able to time it so that they’d cum together, he realized with a hint of disappointment, so he found her clit with his thumb and helped her along, grinning to himself when he finally felt her pussy spasm around his cock. It was only a few seconds before he reached his peak as well, spilling his seed into her and slumping over, exhausted. He lazily stared into her dark blue eyes for a minute before kissing her gently and pulling out so he could lie beside her.

After a minute, Amelia stood, naked aside from those strappy heels. Mori watched her lean legs and perfect ass as long as he could before she disappeared into the bathroom to clean herself up.

Yes, Japanese faux pas that it was, Mori would never complain about her wearing her shoes in the house.
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Cultural Differences