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It Happened on the Way to Kyoto

4/26/2012

What follows is a rather long story, containing
a rather long erotic scene. It is a work of fiction based
loosely on personal experiences.


I suspect that, when visiting a faraway locale on vacation,
a lot of single people fantasize about romance – perhaps
a lot more than mere romance – but I wonder how many folks
actually get to experience it. I won't say that it was
the furthest thing from my mind as I made my preparations
for my vacation, but I can't say it was anything that
I held out much hope for, either. Then again, who knows?
I would be spending sixteen days in a country full of beautiful
exotic women, so I wasn't gonna rule out the possibility,
either.


I had been saving for a solid year for my vacation to Japan,
and had been making various other preparations as well.
I had decided against joining a tour group, for starters.
I very much wanted to go where I wanted, when I wanted, and
to stay as long as I wanted in the various locales that I planned
to visit. So that I would be able to move about the country
at a good price and with minimal fuss, I also bought a Japan
Rail rail pass, which ended up being a very smart decision.
It saved me a lot of money.


To make all this happen, however, it was a foregone conclusion
that I'd have to study the language. At least a survival
ability in Japanese would be necessary, I reasoned, if
I wanted to travel without a tour group. Fortunately, a
local university offered a two-semester course in Conversational
Japanese, which I enrolled in. I got to know the instructor
pretty well, a bilingual, American-born Japanese woman,
and by the time the second semester was concluded, another
student and I approached her to see if she was interested
in giving private lessons so we could continue our studies.
We were both fortunate that she agreed to this, so our instructor
and I came over to the other student's apartment twice
a week for our lessons, thus I was able to get a few more months
of instruction under my belt by the time I was ready to leave.
The private instruction was quite helpful because our
teacher taught us the basics of the Japanese writing system,
which she hadn't done with the conversational classes
because, well, they were conversational. And I reasoned
that if I were not traveling with a tour group, then I'd
better be able to make some sense of the written language.



So at last, after a year's planning, saving, preparation
and study, I was in Japan! I'd arrived at Tokyo's
Narita airport, and spent a couple of days in Tokyo, seeing
the sights, enjoying the foods and giving my camera a thorough
workout before boarding a bullet train, called Shinkansen,
to Osaka, 520 km to the south, or about three and a half hours
by bullet. Now, that was an experience. It was like
flying on an airliner that never left the ground, except
instead of flying coach, my rail pass reserved me a roomy
seat that would have been the same as a first class seat on
an airline. Like an airline, the seating is assigned, and
I found myself on the aisle, sitting next to a pretty looking
young Japanese woman who appeared to be traveling alone.
She was dressed rather conservatively in a Navy “skirt
suit” – is that what they're called? – with a
white blouse. Her hair was as black as midnight, cut in a
long “pageboy” that brushed her shoulders. It looked
incredibly sexy on her, framing a face that would have made
Amaterasu, the Shinto goddess of the sun, jealous.


Stewardesses (can't call them flight attendants,
now can I?) patrolled the aisles, serving food and drinks,
as the scenery flew by outside the window at 200 miles per
hour. I had ordered an obento, for lunch, which
was a boxed lunch of rice, fish and vegetables, and was beginning
to feel drowsy a short while later. An earlier passenger
had left behind a manga comic in the magazine pocket
in the back of the seat in front of me, which was about the
size of a medium-sized phone book, so I flipped through
it, practicing my still rudimentary skills with the written
language, but mostly I just looked at the pictures.


A moment later I opened my eyes, feeing oddly disoriented,
and slowly realized that I'd dozed off. My head was
resting at an angle and as I grew aware of my surroundings,
I realized with a sudden start that it was resting on this
young woman's shoulder! Yikes! Instantly, I sat bolt
upright and glanced askance at her. She behaved as if nothing
had happened. I turned to face her, and bowed slightly (the
Japanese are big on bowing; they do it often, as a sign of
respect, so I felt I should do likewise).


“Sumimasen!” I said, feeling totally embarrassed.
(sumimasen means “excuse me”) Suddenly I
was wondering why she hadn't pushed me off her – that's
most likely what would have happened in the States. Maybe
even followed up with a sharp elbow to the kidney just for
good measure.


She turned to me and just waved her hand back and forth. “Ii
desu, ”
she said. (that's okay), answering
my bow with one of her own. Then she smiled. “You looked
tired, ” she said in very clear English.


Raising my eyebrows in surprise at her English, I smiled
back. “Apparently I was, ” I said. “Still, my apologies.
It was very impolite of me.”


She let out a small laugh and roller her eyes. “I know much
worse, believe me.”


“Wow, your English is very good, ” I said. She had a
clear Japanese accent, which I recognized quickly because
of a girlfriend I had had a few years before, but her pronunciation
was clear. She blushed prettily and I could tell she was
pleased by the compliment.


You know what the great thing is about compliments? They
don't cost anything to give or receive one, and both
the receiver and the giver feel better because of it. A genuine
win-win situation if there ever was one.


“Much study, ” she said simply. Ah yes, I recalled
the books and articles I'd read about Japan and its
people. Almost all Japanese students studied English
in secondary school, and many continued to study it in college.
“You are American, neh?”


“Yep, ” I nodded.


“Where – in America?”


“Los Angeles.”


“Ah. Very beautiful there. Hollywood is, how you say?
Much glamor.”


Well, maybe for folks who didn't actually live there,
I thought. I worked in North Hollywood and commuted on the
101 through Hollywood, right past the famous Capitol Records
building, every day. I was somewhat familiar with Tinsel
Town's more seedy underbelly.


“Actually, we say 'very glamorous, ' but that's
close enough. Have you ever been?” I asked.


“America? Um, yes. I visit Hawaii, um, two years ago?”
she nodded. “Neh? Very beautiful! As beautiful
as Japan! I think, yes.”


Ironic, perhaps? I'd never been to Hawaii, but here
I was in Japan. Go figure. I shook my head. “Never been
there.” Changing the subject, I asked, “So, are you
going to Osaka, or farther south?”


“Ie, ” she shook her head. “No, I go to Kyoto.
Very close to Osaka.”


I tried to hide my disappointment. The train would arrive
in Kyoto before Osaka. I had been planning on stopping in
Kyoto on my way back north. Kyoto is Japan's original,
ancient capital city, chock-a-block full of shrines and
palaces. But you know, I thought to myself, none of my plans
were cast in concrete. Another good reason for not going
with a group.


“So, do you live in Kyoto?”


She shook her head again. “I live in Tokyo, ” she said.
“I go to Kyoto for, um, yasumi? Vacation?”



“Ah, yeah, that's one word I do know!” I said. “Since
I'm on vacation, I figured I should know how to say it
in Nihongo.” (Japanese)


“So do you go to Kyoto?”


I made a quick decision. “As a matter of fact, yes, ”
I said. This avenue was definitely worth pursuing. Nothing
ventured, nothing gained, eh?


She clapped her hands lightly and smiled. “What do you
do in Kyoto?”


“Well, to begin with, ” I said, then gave her a small
smile, “I was thinking maybe I could – buy you dinner?”



A look of surprise flashed across her features as what I
said sunk in, then she grinned and covered her mouth with
her hand. “Ah, so kashira neh. Do you eat sushi?”



“I love sushi! Sushi ga dai-suki desu!
I said proudly, which meant the same thing I had just said
in English.


She laughed. Her voice sounded like tuned clarion bells.
“Anata no nihongo ga joozu desu ne! Your Japanese
is very skillful!”


“Welp, ma'am, ” I drawled, “I aim to please.”
I realized after I said that last that it had probably been
a bit too heavy on the vernacular for her to follow, so I quickly
changed the subject. Thrusting out my hand, I said “Hajimemashite.
Michael desu.


“Dozo yoroshiku, Aiko desu, ” she
replied, bowing slightly, completing the introduction
ritual. She grasped my hand and shook it with a surprisingly
firm grip. I didn't want to let go, and held her hand
for a moment longer.


“Aiko. What a lovely name, ” I said. She really did
have a cute smile and when she blushed, it added a lush rosiness
to her cheeks. And her name was, quite literally, lovely:
Aiko means 'love child.'


* * * ,


“Kampai!” I said, holding a glass of Kirin
beer aloft, and clinked it against Aiko's.


“Kampai!” she answered in return, grinning.
We had found a tiny sushi bar that was quite literally a hole
in the wall along an avenue of open air shops. An awning leaned
over the half dozen stools perched in front of the bar, with
curtains draped about halfway down to the ground so that
people sitting at the tiny bar would be in the shade, and
also somewhat shielded from the outside. We had each been
ordering a variety of sushi; it was all fresh and delicious.
Aiko explained to me that pairing sushi with beer was sort
of a recent trend. But the two seemed to go together naturally
and so it had quickly become popular throughout the country.
Sake was the traditional drink, but she said that
it wasn't as popular anymore. I'd been to a number
of sushi bars in the L.A. area, and I had to agree with her
– I saw folks drink sake, but beer was much more common.
And I agreed. Sushi and beer were as natural a combination
as pizza and beer were.


When we had arrived at the station, she had asked me where
I was staying. I was forced to admit that I didn't know
yet. If she was surprised by that, she didn't let it
show. She asked if I had stayed at a ryokan yet, and
I admitted that I hadn't, but that I wanted to. A ryokan
is a traditional, Japanese style inn, with the woven tatami
rice mats and futon beds and low-slung tables that you sat
around on the floor. They were also usually quite economical
compared to Western-style hotels.


She had reserved a room at a ryokan not too far from
the train station, and suggested that I come with her to
see if there was another room available. Sounded good to
me, so we caught a taxi to the inn. When Aiko checked in, she
asked the clerk about a room for me. I couldn't follow
everything that was being said, but I didn't need to.
I could tell right away that I might be in for a problem. It
appeared they had no more vacancies.


Aiko was regretful when she explained to me what the clerk
said, and I told her that it was okay; I'd find a place.
But then she brightened up. “I have idea, ” she said.
“Put your luggage in my room, and then we have dinner,
neh? After, we make telephone calls to hotels.”



I agreed. We headed up to her room, and deposited our gear
inside. It was surprisingly spacious. There was no bed,
just a pair of futons, rolled up neatly along a wall. A TV
was in a far corner of the room, and a low table sat off center.
Against the wall closest to the table there was even a mini
refrigerator that was stocked with drinks and snacks of
all sorts. There was no bathroom. That was shared with other
visitors, and was at the end of the hallway.


Before we left for dinner, I turned to Aiko and took her hands
into mine. I looked into her deep, dark, mysterious eyes.
“Thank you, Aiko, ” I said. “You've been very
generous with your time, and offering to show me around
this way . . .”


“It is my pleasure, Michael, ” she said, and gave my
hands a little squeeze. “Not necessary to thank me. Besides, ”
she looked down, then back up into my eyes. “Neh?
You are fun person. I am here by myself for my . . . vacation,
so I don't feel so lonely now.”


“You have no friends – a boyfriend or girlfriends who
would come with you? Relations?”


“Ah. My family, they live in Nagano-ken. That is center
island, neh? Not so easy they come. My friends they
think Kyoto is tsumaranai – how you say? Boring,
yes?”


“How could anyone think Kyoto was boring?” I wondered
aloud. As the ancient capital city of Japan, Kyoto was a
picturesque city of parks and shrines and temples, many
of them hundreds of years old, all of them priceless works
of art, in my view. I couldn't wait to begin seeing the
sights. “And your boyfriend?” I asked. Surely a girl
as attractive as Aiko had a boyfriend. Or three.


A pained look flickered across her face. “No boyfriend, ”
she said. “I come to Kyoto because it is quiet and peaceful,
and I need that right now.”


“I understand, ” I said. “Well, hungry? Where would
you like to go for dinner?”


She had consulted a directory and located a list of sushi
bars within easy walking distance from our inn. The place
where we wound up had received good reviews, she had said,
and based on the food we had just consumed, I agreed absolutely.



Our meal complete and as we sipped the last of the beer, the
dinner experience was winding down. It was dusk outside
and the air had turned cool. Our conversation had been wide-ranging
and stimulating. Aiko had asked a great many questions
about life in America and I'd done my best to provide
her with honest answers. I had asked her lots of questions
about Japan as well, and she'd also done her best to
explain things. Like most Japanese people I've met
over the years, she was very proud of her country and its
accomplishments. And she had every reason to feel so. In
many respects, Japan is a country that really must be experienced
in order to have even an inkling as to why its people consider
it to be so special.


Despite the wide range of topics we discussed, one subject
that we had not touched upon was finding me lodgings for
the night. It had occurred to me a couple of times as we talked,
but I'd been willing to postpone the subject until
later. But now it was appearing that “later” had arrived.



“Well, I've had a great time, ” I said after settling
our bill, “but I guess it's time I looked for a place
to stay tonight.”


Aiko looked down, lower lip protruding in a faint pout.
“So neh, ” she said softly.


“My stuff is in your room . . .”


“So neh.”


Because evening was closing in and I didn't know how
late a ryokan kept open its front desk, we took a
taxi back to her ryokan Aiko checked again with
the front desk to see if any vacancies had turned up; none
had. I could not help but notice that Aiko seemed unhappy
about something as we went up to her room, but I felt reticent
about asking her what the problem was. The room phone sat
on a petite table, a small directory beside it. I picked
up the directory but it was all in Japanese. I turned to Aiko
with what must have been a helpless expression on my face.



“Kore – muzukashi desu . . . yomimasen” I
said. (this is difficult – I can't read it)


“So yo, ” she said. She took the directory
from me and turned to the relevant section. “Do you call
or shall I?”


“Please, if you don't mind.”


She shook her head, then sat cross-legged on the floor,
the phone beside her and the directory in her lap. I looked
at the listings. Even though I could read very little, I
could see that there were not many listings in the category
that she had selected. She began calling. “Sorry, ”
she said after the first one. “No vacancy.” She dialed
another and spoke for a moment, looked up at me and shook
her head. She started to dial a third, then stopped and put
the phone handset back on the cradle.


“I have another idea, ” she said. “We have two futons
here. You can use the other one. It's okay.”


I gulped. This was honestly more than I could have hoped
for. Not only did it alleviate the hassle of my having to
find a place to stay, but I would not have to say 'goodnight'
to her after all. And as the night had worn on, the thought
of our having to say our goodbyes at some point later in the
evening was one that I was hoping could be put off. Indefinitely.



“You sure you don't mind?” I asked. She shook her
head. “Okay then. If you don't mind, then neither
do I.” I kneeled before my suitcase, opened it, and began
removing items. It had been a long day and I hadn't had
a shower that morning. I felt I really needed one now. I told
her as much as I removed my toiletry kit and bathrobe.


“Ah, probably no shower here, ” she said. “Traditional
Japanese bath.” I looked questioningly at her. “Come,
I show you.” Outside our room, she led me down the hall
to the floor's community bath. It was a tiled room with
what looked to be a miniature hot tub at one end. At the other
was a sink and mirror and, next to those, the floor's
only toilet. The center area of the room had a couple of squat
stools, and controls on the wall that looked like those
for a shower. A nozzle on a flexible hose hung above the controls.
There was a drain in the middle of the floor. “You sit here, ”
she pointed at one of the stools, “and wash your body,
then use water to clean.” She pointed to the hose. Then
she walked over to the mini hot tub, which was full of water
and tested it with a finger. She nodded. “Hot, ” she
said. “Next, you sit in here and – relax.”


I happened to glance at the door leading into the bath and
saw no lock. I asked her about this. She didn't seem
surprised, and told me that often there was no lock because
if somebody locked the door by mistake when exiting, then
nobody could get in to use the toilet – or the bath. She
lifted a small placard from the inside knob that had Japanese
writing on it, and explained that I hang this on the outer
knob when I was using the bath. Their equivalent of a “Do
Not Disturb” sign. Fine, I thought. When in Rome . . .


After Aiko's orientation, I went back to our room,
gathered up my kit, then headed back to the bath. I made sure
to hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside door knob,
then got undressed and sat myself on one of the stools. I
turned the controls until I was happy with the water temperature,
grabbed my small bottle of shampoo and went to work on my
hair and face. Yep. I have some mild psoriasis patches on
my face and neck, and I've found that a good dandruff
shampoo gives me some relief from the condition. So not
only did I have my hair lathered up, but I had my face covered
in shampoo as well, when I heard the door open.


“Sumimasen, ” came a soft voice. It was Aiko.
What was she doing here? I kept my eyes tightly closed because
of the shampoo, so I couldn't see her. But then, just
a moment later, I felt her. Soft hands began to massage
my shoulders and back with soap, then my neck, working their
way around to my chest.


“What – ” I said.


“It's okay, ” Aiko said. “You enjoy, neh?”
You better believe 'I enjoy'!


“Um, feels nice, ” I replied. She let out a barely audible
giggle. I grabbed for the spray nozzle and began to rinse
off my face. At last I dared open my eyes. Traces of shampoo
lingered, slightly stinging the corners of my eyes. I squinted
in her direction. Aiko was kneeling beside me, clothed
only in a bath towel, seeing to her ministrations with a
look of dedication on her face. My loins were beginning
to stir. Surely she had some idea what she was doing to me?
Without thinking, I reached my right arm around her and
drew her close. She came willingly.


“Nan da?” she said, and with a playful smile,
lightly tapped my nose with a soapy finger. I tried to bite
it, but missed as she drew it back quickly. She giggled and
maneuvered herself onto my lap, then put her arms around
me, bringing her face close to mine. Her mouth was open in
an inviting, almost teasing, half smile, her eyes half-closed,
looking at me intently, expectantly. Our lips met.


I brought the Asian beauty into my arms as our tongues danced
playfully with each other. I parted her towel and she shrugged
slightly, letting it fall. Two perfectly formed orbs greeted
my questing hands. I found one of them, then the other, massaging
them lightly, gently caressing each nipple until it was
erect. She sighed and leaned into me, then reached down
into my lap and found my cock. Her hand still covered with
soap, she began to massage me vigorously and I shuddered.
God, that felt good!


I broke off my exploration of her perfect tits and slid my
hand up her thigh, then under her towel until it arrived
at its destination. Slowly, I caressed her pussy wth two
fingers, stroking up and down, dipping them into her hot
well and bringing forth wetness that I spread over her clitoral
folds. She began to moan softly, pushing against my hand.
I was fully erect, almost painfully so. I wanted to put it
inside her. I wanted to put it inside her now!


I became dimly aware again of my surroundings. I was still
sitting on a stool on a tiled floor, but with a hot sex kitten
in my lap. Not exactly a comfortable situation. The closest
cushioning of any kind was back in our room. I wanted her,
but I didn't want to lean her up against a wall or the
sink to take her. Such positions might be common fare in
porn flicks, but I had tried them and didn't much care
for them. But I didn't mind the tiles. So getting
a hold of her tightly, I stood and kicked the stool out from
under me. She let out a little squeal as I lifted her up. She
couldn't have weighed more than a hundred ten, maybe
a hundred fifteen pounds, so keeping her with me as I stood
was easy enough. I then lay down on the floor, holding her
on top of me, and only after I was prone did I let go of her.
She pulled her towel away and tossed it to the side. At last
I had a clear, unobstructed view of her body. She was fucking
unbelievable. She had Goldilocks tits (Papa bear's
were too big, Mama bear's were too small, baby bear's
were just right for G). I thought about calling her “baby
bear, ” but decided against it.


Straddling me, Aiko began to rub her pussy against my cock,
not quite moving high enough to allow it to enter her hot
wetness. The feeling was so intense, I felt as if I would
go mad if I didn't put it inside her soon. Hands on my
shoulders as she swiveled her hips up and down, she gazed
into my eyes and smiled at my distress. Oh, what a treacherous
woman she was! Hoping to distract myself from the almost
painful pleasure, I cupped her tits in my hands, and gave
them a gentle squeeze. I raised myself up, trying to reach
her left breast with my mouth, but she was leaning back too
far. When she saw what I was attempting, she obliged and
leaned forward, thrusting her exquisitely shaped boob
into my mouth. I sucked happily, teasing her nipple with
my tongue. She shivered and I could feel the goosebumps
rise on her breast as her nipple stiffened suddenly. She
gyrated even more forcefully against my cock, then lifted
herself up just a bit too far, and when she came back down,
I entered her soft velvety warmth. Her downward momentum
didn't slow, so my cock rammed her hard up to its hilt.



Aiko cried out at the sudden penetration. Loudly. And as
she pumped up and down on my hard rod, she continued to cry
out with each thrust. Where had this woman come from, I wondered?
She had suddenly transformed from a demure, polite beauty
to a screaming nymphomaniac! “Aahh! Ohh! Aaaahh!”
she cried out with each renewed thrust. I found myself suddenly
wondering how thick the walls were in this place. Not very,
I suspected. I reached down and began to lightly massage
her clit as she continued to noisily pump up and down on my
shaft. “Aah! Nnnghh!” She cried, and collapsed against
me, moaning loudly, as I took over and began pumping her
from underneath, still massaging her pussy. She shuddered
against me, moaning again with each thrust.


“Oh, Michael, ” she moaned softly. “Oh, oh, ohh!
Oh, Michael! Aah-ah-aaaahhh! Ai, itai!, ”
she hollered. “Kimochi!” As near as I could
translate, she had just called out that it hurt good. As
long as the good part outweighed the hurt part, I wasn't
worried. I continued to thrust and massage. She began to
wail again, a long, drawn out continuous sound, punctuated
forcefully by each thrust. “Ahhhh, ” she sighed,
and held me tight. I softened my thrusts to a quiet, gentle
rhythm. She lifted her face to mine, and kissed me passionately,
forcefully. “Oh, Michael, ” she said, kissing me
again. “Oh, that was good. Domo! Domo arigato!”



“Do itashimashite, ” I replied, smiling.
I was a bit surprised I could recall the basic “thank you/you're
welcome” sequence during the passion of the moment.
“But really, you don't need to thank me. You feel
wonderful. God do you feel good!” I emphasized the last
statement with another long stroke. She smiled and gave
me a fierce hug. As she did so, I felt her vagina do likewise
– it gave my cock a firm squeeze.


Suddenly, I needed to come. I groaned and stiffened, thrusting
up at her much harder. Sensing my nearness, she began to
grind against me in perfect synchrony with my frantic thrusts,
looking down at me as a smile spread across her face. “Cum
for me, ” she whispered. So I did.


* * *


We lay in a soap-lathered pile on the tile floor, neither
of us moving, neither of us wanting to move for what felt
like hours. I was still inside her, my erection gone, but
even so, her pussy was warm and soft, and felt like heaven.
Just then she stirred, her vagina giving my softened dick
a squeeze, and it popped out of her.


“Oh” she pouted and pushed herself against me, trying
to shove it back in.”


I shook my head. “Next time, ” I said. “He needs a
break.”


“We should finish, ” she said.


“Huh? But – ” Geez, I thought we just had.


“Finish washing, ” she said. “Then we can, um, how
you say? Tsukaru. Soak?”


I didn't know what tsukaru meant, but it sounded
good to me. “Sure, good idea. Besides, somebody might
be waiting.”


“Knock on door, ” she said. “If need toilet, people
knock on door.”


“Ah, I see.” Well, since we hadn't been disturbed
yet, I guess nobody was waiting for the bathroom. Besides,
I reasoned, this inn had four stories, and a person could
always go to another floor's bathroom if they needed
to go bad enough.


We picked ourselves up off the floor, each taking a stool,
and took turns washing the soap off each others bodies.
That was an erotic experience in itself, and by the time
we were done, I was about halfway hard again. Aiko noticed
this not-so-little fact, and commented silently with
a smile, a raised eyebrow, and a gentle squeeze. Man, if
only time could stand still, I thought.


Rinsed off and completely clean, we descended on the small
hot tub. It could fit two people if they didn't mind
being very friendly with each other. It took me a while to
get myself all the way submerged into the clear, hot water.
Aiko was much faster. The water was hot! But as I
slowly slipped farther into it, I could feel the heat doing
its job, softening up my muscles, and by the time I was submerged
to my neck, I could have nodded off, I felt so relaxed. Why
on Earth didn't we have this in the States?


Aiko maneuvered herself on top of me, again sitting in my
lap. She put her arms around me and rested her head on my chest.



“I never do this before, ” she said.


“Do what?”


“This, ” she waved a hand, encompassing the bathroom.
This, ” she reached down and found my cock, giving it
a squeeze. “First time I meet someone we, um, meiku
rabu
.”


“Meiku – ? oh! Make love!” I grinned at her.
Japanese was full of English borrow words, and I'd
just learned a new one. So, this was the first time she'd
ever “made it” with a guy on a first date, eh? I thought
back over my rather slim sexual history, and realized that
I'd had a few “one night stand” experiences, most
of which were not worth dwelling upon. They'd been
quite unsatisfying. This experience had definitely become
the exception that proved the rule. “Well, you don't
have to worry, ” I told her, “Your virtue is safe. I
won't tell a soul.”


“Eh?” she said. Nani? Wakaranai no . . ."
She was puzzled and mildly frustrated, it appeared, because
she hadn't understood what I said.


“Nan demo nai, ” I said. “It doesn't
matter.” I placed a finger under her chin and coaxed her
to look me in the eye. “Right now, right this minute? You're
the only thing that matters to me in the whole world.”
She blushed and gave me a lovely shy smile. It was pretty
clear she understood that much, at least.


Aiko had kept her hand wrapped around my cock, just gently
massaging it, so subtly that her actions hadn't attracted
my attention as we talked. But now it was starting to wake
up and I could feel its growing tumescence. Her stroking
became more emphatic, and she began to look at me with a devilish
gleam.


“Madam, ” I said in a haughty voice, “Just what are
your intentions?”


Looking me in the eye, she came closer and whispered. “I
want you to meiku rabu to me.”


“Well, I aim to please, ” I said. By that point, she
had managed to arouse me completely. I grabbed her by the
buttocks, picked her up and set her against the wall on the
edge of the tub, then spread her legs out to the sides of the
tub. Like a homing missile, my face descended upon her magnificent
bush, and I proceeded to graze.


“Aah!” she exclaimed, tossing her head back. It hit
the wall with a loud bonk. “Ow, itai no!"
she whined and rubbed her head. I kissed her clit, and licked
her opening petals. She shivered, moaning low in her throat.
“Oh, ahh, ohh!” She began to thrust her pussy into my
face, and I responded by drilling my tongue into her wet
heat. Her moaning grew and grew until she began to spasm,
then buck and quake. At last, she let out a long wail, grasping
at my head. I loved hearing her cum. And feeling it. And tasting
it.


The tub was too deep for me to kneel and enter her, and not
deep enough for me to stand as she rested on its edge. So,
I lifted her up, bracing her body against the wall until
she was at the right height, then slid my cock home. She gasped,
then suddenly wrapped her arms and legs around me, almost
throwing me off balance. But I was able to maintain our orientation
by pushing her back to the wall, holding onto her buttocks
with both hands. She began to bang her pussy against my cock,
and for a few moments, it was all I could do to stand there
and hold on for the ride. Gradually, we settled into an aggressive
rhythm and before too long, Aiko was going off like fireworks.



“Oh, oh, ah, oh!” she shouted as we pounded against
each other. “Ah, oh, oh, ohh! Kimochi! Kimochiii!”
Kimochi literally means 'feels'. Kimochi
ga ii
means '[it] feels good, ' but it is very
common for the latter part to be omitted, especially by
a woman in the throes of passion. And Aiko was definitely
in the throes of passion by that point. Again, she began
that continuous wail, spasming against me, and I knew she
was about to cum once more. I decided not to wait any longer,
and allowed myself to succumb to the delicious feel of her
pussy. I was right behind her, and we were intertwined by
the ecstasy of the moment.


Breathing hard, I held her close. We were hot and sweaty
after that last bout of love making, our groins liberally
slathered in cum juices, so I knew better than to get back
into the tub's clean waters. Holding her firmly I stepped
from the tub. She moaned softly, her face buried against
my chest. I set her down on one of the stools, turned the water
back on, and then I proceeded to give her another bath, gently
caressing her as I played the warm water over her perfect
form. She sat there, spent, but smiled up at me and then began
to wash the sweat and juices from my body as well. It was an
incredibly sensual experience, one I shall always remember.



Some time later, we lay nude atop our rolled out futons,
watching crazy Japanese game shows on the TV. I had raided
the mini fridge for some snacks and a couple of beers. So
we lay there, eating sweet confections and shrimp-flavored
chips, drinking Asahi Draft, feeling blissfully content.



During the commercials, we talked about what we wanted
to do together in Kyoto besides the obvious. Aiko had several
good suggestions. Being the rookie, I decided just to go
along for the ride. Funny how thngs work out sometimes,
I thought. I had come to Japan, resisting the idea of having
a tour guide as I visited some of the country's most
treasured sights, and what had happened? I wound up with
the best tour guide and companion a guy cold ever hope for.



After seeing some amazing sights in Kyoto, Aiko and I spent
the rest of my time in Japan together. After Kyoto, we visited
Osaka, Nara, Himeji, and Okayama. Then we took the Shinkansen
back to Tokyo, and from there, we visited Yokosuka and Kamakura,
as well as a few famous shopping districts in Tokyo itself,
such as Akihabara and Shinjuku. Shinjuku is sort of like
Tokyo's version of New York City's Times Square,
and Akihabara is just one huge shopping district devoted
almost entirely to electronics.


There was only one dark cloud that hovered over our relationship,
and as each day passed it grew darker and more threatening.
Irrevocably the days ticked down to my departure date.
I began to wish fervently that I could find a way to extend
my stay indefinitely. I'm sure you've heard just
as many stories and fairy tales as I have about love at first
sight, and personally I didn't believe a one of them.
But then, prior to my brief stint in Japan, I'd never
met a woman like Aiko. She was able to reach and at last heal
the wounds in my soul from the loss of my previous girlfriend.
They were replaced by a growing feeling of compassion and
deep respect I was feeling for this new treasure in my life.
After having weathered that ordeal, I felt confident that
I could maintain an even emotional keel, and I would have
if I hadn't met Aiko. She had had her own set of problems
when we first met, having recently broken off a long-term
relationship. She and he were planning to get married,
right up until the afternoon she walked in on him in the apartment
they shared as he was fucking another woman. She had been
devastated, and was in the process of putting her own life
back together when we met. I don't know who the asshole
was, but I honestly felt like shaking his hand, and telling
him that he was a fool, and I was so glad that he was. Because
Aiko and I had fallen in love. It might not have been “love
at first sight, ” but by the time I left for the States,
the feelings were there, and they were mutual.


Sometimes fairy tales do happen and they do come true. After
I returned to the States, Aiko and I stayed in close touch.
And we made plans. She flew to Los Angeles to spend a week
with me a few months later. We got engaged while she was there,
and I started in on the paperwork. A few months after that,
we met again in Hawaii, got married and spent our honeymoon
there, then she returned to Los Angeles with me. She and
I spent a few exciting, bliss-filled years together before
some serious problems began to emerge that neither of us
could overcome and which would ultimately sink our marriage.
Eventually, she returned to Japan, and I haven't seen
her since. We spoke once on the phone after that, but it was
only to discuss the finalization of our divorce. Aiko was
a treasure and I sometimes think back about the good times
we had and of what might have been, but alas, the fates had
other ideas. Yes, sometimes fairy tales do happen, but
they don't always end in “And They Lived Happily
Ever After.”

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Member Responses Post Your Comment

Members can vote on this response!

Can I express wonderment in your writing.You allow the
readers brain to take over and visualise all that left to
imagine. By not going into the sometimes sordid sex vernacular
that others who write on this site use to try and get there
story across, further enhances the wonderfull story line
so well written.


SLR

4/27/2012

Members can vote on this response!

Thanks so much for your kind words. I have always felt that
one of a writer's chief duties is to build a scene or
situation such that the reader becomes engaged in the process,
which results in stimulating his or her imagination. So
yes, I tried to do that here. And, like you, I prefer to read
and write erotica, not explicit porn. To me, there's
a real difference. Erotica always seems to have aspects
of love and sensuality interwoven with the dialog and exposition
that porn usually lacks. Erotica reflects in a more true
sense my personal feelings about sex.

4/27/2012

Members can vote on this response!

It is wonderful to read and enjoy the writing and the sensualities
that is part of the story and theme. I am delighted to read
and imagine the scenes between the words. A good sotry makes
people want to read more........I am awaiting for your
next story.

4/27/2012

Members can vote on this response!

quote kinkylastingone:
It is wonderful to read and enjoy the writing and the sensualities that is part of the story and theme. I am delighted to read and imagine the scenes between the words. A good sotry makes people want to read more........I am awaiting for your next story.
Thanks, I'm glad you liked this one. I've got a
couple of ideas in mind for my next story. One of them would
be an account of my honeymoon with Aiko in Hawaii. We had
a pretty wild time there. If I write that one, it probably
will be pretty straight from memory without much fictionalizing
having to be done.

4/27/2012

Members can vote on this response!

I was thinking " bloody hell it will take him ages to
post the next one", can I wait? I see now that it has only taken you a week to post the four
of your great stories. So with that little bit of knowledge I will sit back and quietly
wait for the next installment. Tick, tick.

4/28/2012

Members can vote on this response!

quote slr308:
I was thinking " bloody hell it will take him ages to post the next one", can I wait? I see now that it has only taken you a week to post the four of your great stories. So with that little bit of knowledge I will sit back and quietly wait for the next installment. Tick, tick.
Heh. When inspiration hits, I can usually knock out a
piece pretty quickly. Often it takes longer to edit and
proofread it than it does to write it. I was thinking about
starting in on the honeymoon story later today. It might
just be ready by tonight, but I kind of doubt it I Think
I'm Turning Japanese
was written over the course
of several days and It Happened On the Way to Kyoto
took a few, including editing and proofreading.


I am very happy that you've enjoyed my stories so far,
and I'll do my best to keep producing them. I have a young
couple waiting in the wings I'll likely be getting
to after the honeymoon story.

4/28/2012