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Memories of Sachiko
Memories of Sachiko
Sometimes it hurts me to remember Sachiko. Her beauty was so intense, so brilliant that after sex, she would lie on her stomach and I would stroke her golden neck and shoulders, run my fingers down to the small of her back, nuzzling her with my lips. She had the perfect ass, soft and petite. She had played basketball in high school, which I always found difficult to imagine. She didn't seem to marred by a competitive edge and she had lost all interest in athletics outside the bedroom. But sports had left her with a delightful body. Her legs were slender, her tummy was tight - there was not an ounce of fat anywhere. Gazing at her was pure pleasure. She would take an ofuro (bath), soaking in my Japanese-style tub, while I would sip shochu or Cointreau. Usually the latter, because she liked the taste of it on my lips when she came back to bed. Sometimes she would moisten a washcloth with it and rub it on my chest, stomach and cock and then run her tongue down my body, sucking gently on my nipples as she caressed me.
I've never known a woman who enjoyed 69 as much as she did. We were perfectly matched and time seemed to stop as I licked her and she sucked me. She laughed at how much I loved her honey and so I called her honey-chan and of course she called me a bee. Sexually we were perfectly matched, each amazed by the other's body. She would stroke my hair and gaze into my eyes, jump on my back and demand piggy back rides around the apartment. All my strength, the years of weight-lifting in college, finally had a real purpose - she found joy in my muscles. I would like to see her again, though I know that's impossible now. And I doubt she would ever read this, but if she were to, I'd tell her she was one of the greatest gifts I've ever received, I was unbelievably lucky to have loved such a wonderful person and I think of you often and with complete fondness and a hell of a lot of desire.