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Strings Chapter 6. Japanese Deviation

8/29/2015

Since commencing correspondence with Cute Little Pixie
I had maintained other connections too, these were mostly
a few email conversations and one of them, a polish woman
was keen to meet to see if I was ‘ze man to tie up me’. We
were to meet at lunchtime at a restaurant at London Waterloo
station. Despite several emails confirming the arrangements
she no-showed, and I had wasted about three hours of my day.
Though she wanted to re schedule I deemed her unreliable
and lost interest. The only other activity in January was
a rare meet up with Claudia for mutual oral sex in an anonymous
motel. It was verging on mandatory and boring for me, my
mind was elsewhere, it was obvious Claudia would also be
Pole-axed out of my life.


Me: What did you think of the PA’s Tale?


I received several blank messages from Pixie until one
arrived with her real name displayed. She was Silvie Carney.
She’d made the same mistake I had with Lady Samantha,
sending an email with her personal details accidentally
attached.


Pixie: Hello - I'm not sure you are getting messages
from my mobile....did you get the last one? I enjoyed the
PA’s tale, the second half was better and I particularly
liked the end about going out with an invisible crust on
her face. I don't care if it’s nasty or disgusting
to enjoy that kind of story - it is sensual beyond any ridiculous
advert for sexual pleasure.


Me: I just got 3 blanks in a row, then your last Vault message
that you were sending the email directly, which I also got.
Hello Sylvie!


Pixie: My name revealed.


Me: I thought you'd like the crust, it’s based vaguely
on a true occasion. Your name and nasty habits are secret
with me.


Pixie: I thought it might be, or else how would you know what
it felt like? I’d like to know what happened.


Me: She was Japanese.


Pixie: Hence bukakke?


Me: She was a delightful outcome of my working in Japan.



So I told Pixie/Silvie a little about Mariko. How the first
crustation was in England when she visited me. We had been
apart two or three months, and I hadn't had a release
for three weeks. After the pub the sex that night in my living
room was full of passion and intensity even though it was
straight forward vanilla missionary and mutual oral.
She was lying on the rug when I came heavily around her mouth
and across her top lip. Afterwards she immediately lolled
into a deep sleep. Jet lag and a little drunk the poor thing
crashed out.


I was dozy too, drink and sex culminating in a powerful orgasm
will see to that, but when I stirred awake just a few minutes
later I saw her olive skinned slender body stretched out,
relaxed and asleep. Jet black hair and eyelashes, stunning
high cheekbones and the prettiest lips I’d ever seen;
she was the ultimate sleeping beauty. I picked her up and
carried her to the bedroom, gently putting her to bed. The
big globs of my ejaculation were still semi liquidy on her
face, mostly accumulated pornographically just beneath
her nostrils, which drew in air over the pearly deposits.
It was erotically satisfying to see her fine facial features
decorated bukkake style, so I didn’t clean her up and
soon fell asleep next to her.


In the morning I woke first, and saw the glob had desiccated
to a thick crust, like an elongated solid bubble across
her top lip. I got above her and wanked a second fresh load,
also thick and creamy onto the stale old stuff. Even then
she didn't properly wake up, just rubbed her nose and
rolled over back to sleep.


Silvie liked the story, she said it was very cute and intimate
and accepting. The way it should be. Then she asked, ‘What
happened to your relationship with her?


This question was trailing into territory I preferred
to avoid, our correspondence had run to the early hours
and I allowed the natural breaks as we nodded off to delay
answering her. The unwelcome territory was my lingering
affections for Mariko, and some raw emotions about losing
her.


* * *


Mariko had been the pinnacle and culmination of my evelationary
explorations in Asia, from lithe saucy Orientals to horny
keen expats my wheels of fortune were places like JJ Mahoney’s
in Seoul, The Giraffe Bar in Manila, Hong Kong’s Joey
Bananas, the Ritz in Hanoi and the Hard Rock Café Beijing.
But Tokyo was the real deal, and its hub were the bars of Roppongi:
Geronimo’s, Mogambo’s, Castillo’s, Gas Panic
and at hub central, the worlds’ greatest bar; Motown.



Walking into Motown after a three week absence, the bar
staff pouring my drink without my asking, expat regulars
welcoming me with open arms and familiar little huddles
of flirty Nipponese smiling. There would always be newcomers
too, some were occasional drinkers resident in Tokyo but
many were visiting businessmen. Dozens of nationalities
and occupations mingled and pulled, or pushed through
the long narrow bar to the latest beats of global rock, pop
and . I loved the place and moved freely through it. The
greater Tokyo metropolis of the Kwanto had over thirty
million inhabitants cramped into miniscule apartments
and hotel rooms. We expats and expat attracted Japanese
may have lived ten miles and ten million people apart but
Motown was our watering hole.


And with those smiling Japanese girls I was aware of the
‘Motown Map’, a real time gossip network of who was
with who, who had a one night stand, who betrayed who, who
was a bastard and who was a ‘nice guy’. Following any
encounter with a member of a particular gossip pod my assumption
was the groupthink opinion of me was uniform. So if I was
inappropriate or stupid in some way with one I risked the
pod’s ostracism. Some guys like to work their way through
girls to meet their most attractive friends, but I thought
that was a high risk strategy.


Trying to be the nice guy, the interesting foreigner who
iis also flirty and fun was my method and though it inhibited
quick wins it tended to yield more fruitful successes.



‘Where you come from?


‘What hotel you stay?’


These two questions quickly established your credentials
on the Motown Map. I was a Brit, which was good as far as being
English speaking, but often a poor fourth place in the attractions
stakes after Americans, Australians and Canadians. I
found this a lot in Asia, typically when the questioner
was trying to gauge the likely generosity of my tipping.
However I worked for a global branded company, which was
good, and stayed in the Capitol Tokyu Hotel, nearby and
famous for accommodating western musicians - including
rock stars, and this tallied high marks as it reflected
a man with a good job, career and income.


I met Yumiko. ‘You me go!’ she had explained. She was
very pretty, with an hour glass figure which was unusual
for a Japanese. There was nothing doing at first and the
second time I saw her she was with a much more attractive
friend. I went on Motown Map alert and did not switch my attentions
to the more desirable friend.


I got to know Yumiko’s whole pod as I tried to develop things
with her and discovered that her friend was not only prettier
and sexier, she spoke better English and was much more fun.



She also passed my drinks test which Yumiko had ominously
failed. I buy a girl a drink, and happily buy another, then
I wait. Even if I finish my own second drink first I wait till
she finished hers. If she doesn’t offer to buy the third,
I will but that will be all. In my books she is only after free
drinks and a good time at my expense. If she offers the third
drink I would happily still pick up the tab - I wasn’t stingy,
just making an assessment.


Yumiko never offered to buy me a drink and she never offered
her hourglass body either, and oftentimes she was puzzlingly
unavailable to go out. It didn’t feel like a relationship
and it didn’t look like a relationship was forthcoming.
I was in a fix because I was very attracted to her friend,
Mariko, and would often run into her once or twice during
my business trips to Tokyo, but Motown Map concerns prevented
a callous switch of affections.


One trip I had doggedly called Yumiko several times to null
response, but I was working long hours that week so it didn’t
matter as I hardly went out at night. Then on Thursday evening
ariko called me on her ‘handy phone’ and asked if I was
going to Motown because, ‘Friday is a national holiday
so tonight is party night.’


An hour later we were sat on bar stools pushed close together
in a heaving Motown, and after a while I asked why was Yumiko
was so difficult.


‘Because she is seeing other guys, ’ was the abrupt
answer.


So it wasn’t a relationship.


Yumiko failed the drinks test and Motown Map and ‘Yu mi
went’. Thereafter when I was in town I frequently found
myself chatting to Mariko, and as the months rolled around
into winter we were often the last two of our group still
in the bar. It would still be crowded and we were physically
close together. It was intoxicating until suddenly, around
2am, she would tap both open palms on my chest, give me a heart
stoppingly beautiful smile and say, ‘I go home now, see
ya, ja ne, ’ wave and be gone.


This happened several times and on each business trip to
Japan I would ask her if she would like to come back to my hotel,
and each time she declined, each time with a beautiful smile.



As my feelings for Mariko evolved from merely amorous to
a real attraction I stopped chasing other women, not just
in Tokyo but everywhere. The cyclic change in my lifestyle
was underway, after a period of unrestrained casual sex
I was falling under the spell of monogamy again. Except
once.


I had arrived in Tokyo for a week’s work straddling the
weekend, had seen Mariko and walked her to the Roppongi
Crossroads taxi rank where she cheerfully chimed ‘bye
bye, ’ and hopped into a cab.


The next night in Motown I met two Finnish air stewardess,
and they invited me back to their hotel in another downtown
area called Shinagawa. You can imagine what went through
my mind as I sat in the taxi between these two bombshells
with white blond hair. They looked how Hollywood’s central
casting department thought a Finn Air stewardess would
look.


In Hannah’s room we drank white wine and talked and eventually
her voluptuous friend who was reminiscent of Dianna Dors
before she got fat, said it was time for her to ‘Leave us
to it.’


Some sort of signal must have passed between them that my
radar completely missed.


No blond sandwich then, so I settled down with the more slender
and short haired Hannah. We kissed and caressed on her bed,
I undressed her and then she purred approval when I took
my shirt off. That had never happened before, nice little
ego boost - my workouts had paid a dividend at last. But as
things developed OG would not co-operate with the condom
so it was lots of oral sex. She loved it, I loved it and I flooded
her pale Nordic face with a spray of heavy thick sperm. She
(and loved that too.


Hannah was single, had an affair with a married man back
in Helsinki, who had left his wife to be with her. But after
a few months he left Hannah to return to the wife. This had
been a recent event and left her feeling very rejected.



The Finnair crew were only in town a couple more days and
I didn’t see her the next night in Roppongi. The following
night I ran into Mariko and her friend Eriko early on. They
were going to ‘salsa salada, ’ I didn’t know if that
was food or dance. Whatever she was trying to pronounce
she promised to teach me to dance.


Reluctantly I went with them. I am a natural granddad at
the wedding dancer, what’s more the place was too well
lit, and thus my awkwardness was visible to the surrounding
highly dextrous and nimble Nipponese.


Uncomfortable and bored I asked if she wanted to stay, and
for how long. She stretched her toned bare arms above her
head and pirouetted before me flashing another big Mariko
smile, and said she would stay till midnight and then go
home.


I said I wanted an early night and was heading for my hotel.
So I left and as I passed Roppongi Cross decided to pop into
Motown for a last drink. It was packed with multi ethnic
partiers. Half way down the long bar, sat on bar stools the
heads of two white blondes shone like twin lighthouses.



Voluptuous Dianna Dors and Hannah welcomed me to join them
and pretty soon Dianna moved off to one side somewhere.
Hannah and I flirted and drank for an hour and when I mentioned
the facial I had given her she said ‘I like it’.


Oh my word, I was going to have some fun.


Half an hour later I nonchalantly looked around and saw
Mariko entering the bar. Panicked I said to Hannah, ‘I’ve
just seen some one, got to go, ’ and I left her dumbfounded
with both our drinks.


I surprised Mariko, and keeping her at far end of the still
incredibly crowded bar I explained I had seen an old friend
and had popped in for a quick drink.


‘Okay’, she tilted her head and smiled and added, ‘I
just want the bathroom first.’


Whist she was in the ever lengthy queue for ladies I had time
to return to Hannah and stupidly, selfishly and heartlessly
said, ‘I had to speak to someone I have wanted to see for
a while, I am single now and she’s very pretty.’


Hannah looked incredulous at my explanation.


And I left her again.


Ten minutes later, and with Mariko still not back from the
ladies, Hannah departed Motown in a flood of tears, consoled
by Dianna Dors. Dianna looked hard into my eyes as they passed,
and I have never received a more withering look from a woman
in all my life.


I felt small, cheap and utterly ashamed.


Five minutes later Mariko returned, I bought her a last
drink until she said ‘I go home now, ’ and she too left.



Eventually I exited Motown and walked down the hill from
Roppongi Cross the kilometre or so to my hotel in Akasaka.
As I reflected on myself, all I could think of was, ‘You
Cunt.’


That was me, an absolute cunt.


It was 1 a.m. when I reached my room, I decided to call Hannah,
looked up the hotel telephone number and successfully
recalled her room number. They put me through and I apologised
unreservedly. No excuses, nothing else, just really sorry
how I had treated her.


She said it was okay and would I like to come over to her hotel!



‘I want to have sex with you again, ’ she explained.



I didn’t expect that.


I taxied over, and struggled a bit but found her room and
by 2am we were in bed together.


The next morning we said goodbye, as Finnair were flying
out that evening. I was glad I didn’t run into Dianna Dors
again, but amazingly Hannah apologised to me, saying her
emotions were still raw after being rejected by her married
man. Me dropping her like a stone to see Mariko had re ignited
her tears. I couldn’t believe how gracious she was.


I still felt a cunt though.


I was not actually going out with Mariko, that wasn’t
for a couple more months but I had crossed a line, not just
in pickup bar etiquette. I had crossed an emotional line
of my own, I felt I was being unfaithful to her. Of course
I had not even kissed Mariko yet so in a physical sense I had
not betrayed her, but I had betrayed my feelings for her.
Hannah was the only time I was unfaithful spiritually or
otherwise to Mariko, and she had no idea what had happened,
I suppose I got away with it, but it confirmed something
important. I was falling in love with her.


It took a year from my very first encounter with Mariko to
our first kiss. It was August 1997 and I had two more trips
to Tokyo and spent every free and barmy Tokyo evening with
her, until one night at 2am I walked her with our arms linked
to the taxi rank at Roppongi Cross. At the broad pavement
at the corner we unlinked our arms as she stepped towards
the first taxi, and I asked once again, ‘Would you like
to come back to my hotel?


Mariko paused, her pretty eyes looked at me and she astonishingly
said in her casual singsong voice, ‘Okay’ and linked
her arm in mine again.


I walked down Roppongi Hill with her by my side, reaching
the Capitol Tokyu Hotel in fifteen minutes of increasing
sobriety.


Once in my room we shared some Asahi beer from the mini bar
and then made love. She was shy, she was demure and incredibly
sensual, and I was at my most gentle and tender. Her coy lips,
high cheek bones and those dark full almost manga style
eyes with long black eyelashes, I had never kissed anyone
so beautiful, and when her jet black hair fell over her toned
olive skinned shoulders I thought she looked heavenly.
I loved her limbs, her firm trim bum, her waistline and the
small but perfectly formed tits; which all combined into
a slender body tanned from the Japanese sun.


During our lovemaking I went down on her. The shiny dark
hair on her head that had beguiled me so much, also shrouded
her ‘pussy chan.’ I parted her pubes and then the labia
revealing the red hot inner lips. Mariko got the full cunnilingual
treatment and she came in shuddering near silence, just
a couple of uncontrollable gasps escaped.


At the start she hid her mouth and nose behind a hand – a
very Japanese gesture, the women are very reluctant to
reveal their smiles. But as the tension built through her
body she began to bite on her knuckle.


When the explosion came she contained it with straining
not to make any noise and hiding her face behind both hands.



As the ripples of her orgasm subsided I rolled on top of her,
easing her clamped legs apart again and entered her body,
slowly into that cauldron between her legs. We fucked slow
and fast, hard and soft, missionary and side on until OG
was ready.


No condom, so I withdrew just before OG pumped streams of
juice as far up her body as I could reach, which was her delightful
tits.


Of course we couldn’t do the sleazy western thing and
fall asleep with wet patches and jism smears, she got us
both up and showered. Then we slept.


I awoke to bright sunlight through the curtains and the
squawk of large black Tokyo crows circling around the trees
in the hotel garden. I stroked and kissed her awake and we
talked about jobs, she was a bank clerk; and family, she
was a widow with a teenage son; and about the people we knew
in the multinational social whirl of Roppongi night life;
the ‘Motown Map’ of shifting relationships and one
night stands.


Then she said, May I ask you a favour?’ I thought, here
we go, could she have a free ticket on British Airways to
visit London.


‘Yes, of course.’ I replied.


‘Will you eat my pussy again please?’


Mariko always knew how to surprise me, and I took to my task
with relish. It took ten minutes or so and this time she bucked
and writhed and moaned a bit more but it was all very modest.



Our budding sexual relationship turned this woman who
was nearly forty years old into a ‘Teenager again’
she said. She had known several boyfriends and a husband
but had never had an orgasm from someone else’s attentions
until me.


I saw her again over five days in September, and was not due
to return to Japan until November and then she told me she
was to have an operation in October, to remove a benign tumour.



Back in England I pondered what was happening to me, and
called her a few times. With typical Japanese reticence
she didn’t give me any details except the dates when she
would be in hospital.


When she went in, I realised what she meant to me and rang
her friend Eriko to find out the name of the hospital and
with some investigation on the internet got the telephone
number. When I called the receptionist spoke a little English
and put me through to the right part of the hospital but the
wrong ward. That call was answered in Japanese only and
I struggled to be understood, but eventually a doctor came
on line who spoke English. He put me through to the right
ward, but Mariko was asleep and I couldn’t speak to her,
so I left a message. Apparently that left a big positive
impression on her.


We were a couple, and friends scattered around greater
Tokyo and all over the world, regular business travellers
to Japan and apparently all the members of Motown Map heard
about it before I saw her again in November.


Mariko did take to sex like a teenager just discovering
its wondrous sensations. Sometimes she would wake me up
in the bright Japanese mornings, beneath crisp clean sheets
with a long slow blow job. I loved her blow jobs – she took
me to places I hadn’t experienced before. Her mouth was
wide enough to accommodate OG comfortably and she would
often stop ‘giving head’ the up down nodding of most
blow jobs and just hold OG, filling her mouth, and then wriggle
her tongue on his underside, the hyper sensitive frenulum.
She could make me explode that way. Whether the cum filled
her mouth or she let it squirt over her face first, it drooled
and pooled with her saliva all over OG and my balls, and then
she would smear it around with her tongue, licking all around
my genitals, the inside of my thighs and around my perineum.
It was one long extended tingling series of mini orgasms.
Shangri La.


When we fucked her preferred position was on top, the ‘frog’.
She woke me one morning slurping at my cock and then moved
up, and sat on my face. She was only 52 kilos and she squatted
on me with Asian flexibility. I would lick at her for a few
minutes but she would eventually take over thrusting her
pelvis back and forth rapidly, with one hand modesty covering
her gasping mouth till she climaxed.


She would move down to straddle OG and after a few little
humps she would say ‘I like my style’ and raise herself
up on her haunches, squatting up and down slowly on me. All
the way in and out, one hand on my chest the other alternating
between cupping her breast or covering her mouth. Often
I would struggle not to cum inside her, and even turn my mind
to non-sexual thoughts to control myself. Eventually
she would get ready for the orgasm and do the same rapid pelvic
thrusting, clitoris jamming movements. She would cum
in a shuddering mouth clamped silence, and then fall backwards,
her knees fully bent, a hard OG forced backwards and still
inside her.


I would wriggle from under her and scramble on top trying
to keep OG in place, this was difficult for the clumsy western
Gaijin. But I would get there and make love to her, building
up to my own massive release, usually with her knees held
up in the crook of my arms, then a quick extraction and I’d
shift up the bed. She would open her mouth and lay out that
fabulous tongue and I would spray her, tongue, mouth, lips
and nose. Once, memorably, her nose was coated and a bubble
of cum expanded and contracted pleasingly from one of her
nostrils as she breathed.


There was more to vanilla fucking and sucking with Mariko.
A previous, American boyfriend had wanted anal sex with
her and she asked me if I wanted to do it. I later learned she
had thought anal sex was normal and she didn’t particularly
want it. The offer was Japanese politeness.


Well we did it, in a sideways approach I would go down on her
licking her clit and lips and probing her vagina, after
a few minutes I would extend the licks downwards along her
perineum and then around her anus. Licking from above the
hood of her clitoris and down around her ass I would occasionally
flick into her anus, each time a bit deeper, and always adding
more spit and vaginal juice. I would add a fingertip, gently
inserting and withdrawing between the licks, and gradually
push in to the first joint, then add a second finger, probing
and pushing a little deeper. She would groan and spread
her legs wider and wider. I would add an index finger from
my other hand and eventually a fourth finger was inserted,
all up to the second joint. He pussy was sodden wet and heaving
as I pulled the four fingers slightly apart, gaping her
ass.


She was ready, and so was OG.


I would move around and mount her, fucking her pussy-chan
long and deep and then pull out, roll her over and begin to
slowly enter her doggy style, anally.


It was very slow, I would hold her hips so did didn’t pull
away, it did hurt her but gradually I eased past the muscle
and she loosened up. When I was in to the hilt and stroking
in and out she would meet my thrusts, saying, ‘More deeper
Jack, deeper, deeper’.


I could feel her anus lubricating, I didn’t realise it
could do that, and I would fuck her till she screamed an orgasm.
Then I would pull out to complete ass to mouth style.


Once I did this after we had been apart for over two months,
she had dieted down to 48 kilos. Losing the lovely small
breasts in the process.


I met her on a hot day at Roppongi Cross, she was deeply tanned,
and wearing heels and a tight fitting orange mini dress
that almost matched her skin tone. She was radiantly made
up and had flowing long thick black hair and looked fabulous,
I think I might have gawped at her.


After an Italian meal at Capricciosa’s and drinks in
Motown during which I had established she was wearing nothing
else beneath that dress, we retired to the Capital Tokyu
hotel. And then I discovered she had shaved.


We made love with a new intensity and when the anal sex started
I began to swap OG around from hole to hole to mouth. When
she came, it was hard, sprawled on her front wriggling furiously
and screaming, actually screaming! She pushed her face
into the pillows to stifle the screams, bucking her bottom
hard back onto my pelvic bone.


I came deep inside her anus, and rolled off.


Cum slowly oozed out of her onto the sheet.


And as expected the sheets had to be washed as well as both
of us before sleep was permitted.


Though this experience was intense and satiating, something
put me off. She had extremely narrow hips and a small peachy
hard ass - and was very slender, her limbs were tiny compared
to mine, her pussy was bald, and her breasts had disappeared.
OK, her nipples, labia and face still portrayed a mature
woman but suddenly the semi starved forty year old’s
body looked akin to a pre-pubescent child. I felt uncomfortable,
it was a look I didn’t like in a woman and certainly I had
never entertained young girl fantasies.


Mariko had to put back the missing kilos and become a woman
again.


Our love affair didn’t blossom, it boomed, Mariko’s
sexual awakening included tiny hints of threesome sex
with her friend Eriko. And then once in a taxi sat between
them Mariko gripped OG through a jeans trouser leg demonstrating
his girth to a suitably impressed Eriko. And eventually
one quiet evening in Motown I bought both girls a drink and
we sat around a table, we were all chatting and smiling.
I was finessing the opportunity towards this threesome
goal when suddenly some British ‘lad’ bulldozed into
the conversation saying. ‘How come one guy has got two
lovely girls?’ and we were no longer in our bubble of three
but back in the Motown Map, he had broken the spell, the bastard.



I hate guys that barge into situations uninvited and ill
informed, but even more I hate the slime balls that try it
on with a girl the second the boyfriend turns his back. This
happens all too often I suspect but our women don’t want
to tell us for fear of a scene. With Shannon when I was visiting
her in the US we talked to a guy at a bar, he was another Brit,
a bit arrogant and public school I thought. As soon as I left
for the washrooms he asked her, ‘Do you fuck around when
Jack is out of town?’


And another Brit in Tokyo who worked at the embassy and whom
I had met through work persistently invited Mariko out
behind my back. The shaven headed, deeply tanned cad wore
strong coloured shirts and always a white suite and would
pass his ‘meishi’ business card to her with a view to
a date whenever I was away. No wonder so many foreigners
think the Brits are duplicitous.


The ultimate in all this for me was the so called best friends,
note the plural, who fucked my wife behind my back when I
was away working on oil rigs.


Don’t tread on another man’s shoes is a worthy motto,
I ailed on occasions but was never so blatant and callous
and these assorted assholes.


But my threesome Nipponese fantasy took a step closer when
Eriko and her ‘friend’ a married Japanese salaryman
came over to Mariko’s for dinner.


As always Mariko over catered and eventually we were all
stuffed and more than a little drunk, except salaryman
who had to get home.


I had arrived late and was still in my suit when he left. I
sat on the sofa with Mariko next to me and Eriko facing us
still sat at the dining table. Mariko did her ‘feel the
girth’ move on OG who dutifully sprang to attention.
Unprompted she then unzipped and exposed me. Seizing the
moment I was instantly completely naked, at my hardest
and proudest in front of two well-dressed lovelies. I motioned
Mariko to kneel in front of me, and suck OG.


‘Why don’t you take a picture?’ I suggested to Eriko.



So Mariko handed her camera to Eriko explaining its operation
in Japanese, then she returned to her position at my feet
and Eriko snapped away.


The threesome wasn’t to be, Mariko did instruct Eriko
how to cup my balls and wank my shaft with her cool hands,
and she had to remove Eriko’s cigarette to do so. Unfortunately
Eriko had an aversion to sperm and declined to join the pretend
game of learning how to ‘suck dick’, though she did
kiss OG just beneath the glands. I did however get Mariko
quickly stripped despite giggly protests and carried
her into the bedroom. Laughing all the time she attempted
to cover her mouth, tits and pussy-chan with her hands as
I entered her. She did protest too much because her pussy-chan
was the wettest I had ever known it. Eriko wouldn’t strip
or join in but was also laughing as she clicked away with
the camera and moved around the bed and then on top of the
bed wobbling around us, sometimes kneeling looking inexpertly
for good action shots.


I long stroked in and fully out of Mariko trying to present
penetrative views like a porn star, despite her best attempts
at modesty. Then with all the thrashing about we destabilised
the mattress and our fornication ended in whoops of laughter
as Eriko lost her balance on the bed and fell on top of us.
OG popped out and Mariko successfully closed her legs.
We were all a bit too drunk, OG quickly went floppy and Eriko
was soon fast asleep, so no threesome but an awesome and
fun experience anyway.


Over time between the sex and partying Mariko showed me
around Tokyo and then parts of Japan. We holidayed in Okinawa,
visited Osaka’s massive black castle and the ancient
temples and the sophisticated gardens of Kyoto. We climbed
Mount Fuji seeing sunrise simultaneously with the raising
of the Hinomaru flag as the national anthem played. We travelled
by Shinkansen bullet trains north and west, and soberly
strolled the peace park around the A-Dome of Hiroshima.
She accompanied me on several trips to Beijing, Seoul and
Manila, we holidayed in Turkey and the Med, and she frequently
visited me in England.


It was all too good to be true.


Then British Airways began the process of selling off my
division, which had two interconnected unforeseen consequences.
My division was being split up and sold to different buyers,
my job was soon to be over. How would we stay together?


The first consequence and a surprise was being head hunted
by United Airlines, my income took a step change increase,
and my career would continue, but without the guaranteed
regular trips to Japan. The second consequence was therefore
to ask Mariko to marry me, and she accepted.


I flew to Japan and we met the British Embassy people, thankfully
not the cad in the white suit who would probably exact a price
for granting Mariko emigration.


But the marriage plans were still born because three months
into my new job and September 11th 2001 wrecked everything;
world peace and my future life. Jettisoned without any
compensation I was jobless, without income, nor any means
to support an immigrant bride. Perhaps white suit cad man
would have been useful.


Immigration application failed.


Marriage plans scuppered.


They even demolished the Capitol Tokyu Hotel, it and all
those fabulous memories turned to dust.


I didn’t want to share any of this with Silvie.


* * *


30th January 2013


Me: Good morning Silvie and sorry I missed your reply last
night. I worked around the far-east for a decade, the second
job in that time took me to Japan almost once a month. That's
when I met her, we stayed together in an intermittent way
for years. Then September 11th happened, I lost my airline
job ten days later. It wasn't a good time. That was many
years ago, and life always moves on. I would like to know
where your inspiration comes from. I am partially available
today, leaving for London soon, Jack xx


I wanted to move away from my history as quickly as possible
without appearing weird, and take the conversation back
to her background.


Silvie: No problem I'm not usually so prolific on email
but I was up late writing. I think it's probably a good
time for me to state my current position as you at least appear
to be open and straightforward (I'm guessing that
from your considered writing style as of course I don't
know you). I am in a relationship and have been on The Vault
just to explore what and who is out there. You may now think
I'm a bad person and dishonest. At least one of those
is true. My partner moved away 3 years ago and I have only
seen him at weekends for the majority of that time. Eventually
I got lonely, frustrated but I love him so stuck it through.
I woke up one day after a very filthy dream in which I came
and thought 'God I've got to do something about
my frustration!' Why The Vault? It just came up in a
google search. Why BDSM? I don't really know what it
entails in real life, I haven't and won't read
any of the popular submission literature, all I can say
is that I have what I suppose is a dirty mind. I love sex, I
love the mess you can make, I love the sound the smell the
taste......


I'm at work so I’ll leave it at that for now, and anyway
my current relationship status may turn you off. I hope
not.


Wow! I had not only successfully changed topic away from
me to her, but she loves the mess, smells, taste of sex, this
girl was affecting me in ways I hadn’t experienced before.
What’s more, she wasn’t looking for a long term serious
relationship, she was already in one. She was another lonely
frustrated wife, but was she married? And what did she look
like? But now I knew her name.


So I googled her and scrolled down a short list of several
UK Sylvie Carneys. Two were in Bourneshire, one of those
in Bridgebourne and the other on one of the offshore islands.
I clicked and viewed the public version of their respective
Facebook pages. The Bridgebourne girl was a student, too
young, pretty enough but I was sure she wasn’t impersonating
a thirty seven year old. The islander was the right age,
but the only photo was of her head and shoulders, taken outdoors
with a hat and scarf obscuring most of her face. There were
hints of prettiness, nice eyes and a cute smile, but I couldn’t
tell the shape of her face, see her hair or get any idea if
she was fat or thin. She said she was petite, a slim 34A. Was
it her? OG wanted to think so.


Me: Hi Sylvie Thanks for your longest mail yet, your status
is not a problem, I am not at all interested in a new serious
LTR either, I am looking for a friend with benefits I guess,
and those benefits I think you know about. Be assured I will
be very discrete if anything develops between us. I would
love to talk further, but am in a rush. If you want to text
- I will send my mobile number. Warm and sticky regards.



As I rushed to the station I wondered if she would she swap
mobile numbers. And once on the train I continued to focus
on the new information she had imparted to me. So I wrote
another email.


Me: I am on a train, just re read your email, and now I have
a 'boner' like I used to get on those long haul flights.
I need to think about something else before I get into London.
I can't recall if I told you, I am circumsized, I have
an average six inch length, (nudging towards seven inches
on a very good day), but do boast exceptionally thick endowment
(hope your mouth is not too small!), plus very big sperm
laden balls. Pulling into Clapham Junction, running out
of stops, have to think about libraries or something.


Silvie: Sorry about that, I thought it was pretty restrained
compared to your stories! I'll leave that for now.
P.S I guess if my mouth doesn't open wide enough you'll
just have to force it....


Me: I enjoyed the distraction, perhaps you can send me a
photo just of your mouth.


That evening I went to the gym, locker number one was taken
so I had to shift along to locker number three. Suddenly
an email came through to my Blackberry. Half undressed
I opened the message, it was blank, with an attachment.
I opened that - it was a photograph. The little screen was
filled with a picture of a woman’s open mouth, red lips
and a flat tongue with a mix of clear and white fluid on it,
a white string of the stuff looped from the inside the top
of her mouth to the mid-point of her tongue. Jesus!


My heart momentarily palpitated, instinctively I understood
this was THE woman. She understood me, and I understood
her. I sent a quick message.


Me: That is one sensational image!


A little shakily I got my gym gear on and closed the locker
containing the Blackberry with a photograph of a woman’s
sperm filled mouth.


I worked out trying to blank out images of bukkake, my balls
were alive, OG was a coiled snake threating to spring out
of control the moment my imagination overwhelmed my logic.
The battle of the bulge in my thin gym shorts was a mental
one, and if the outcome went a certain way, it could have
been a workout of cringing embarrassment. Nearly an hour
later I trooped downstairs back to the changing rooms,
I switched to my trunks with locker number three open and
noticed two more messages.


Silvie: Glad you like it....by the way your cock sounds
delicious.....I can taste that thick, sweet, silky head
already and the little bubble of salty pre-cum...I think
I'm going to have to play with myself in the bath.


The second message was another taunting sperm filled open
mouth photograph from Cute Little Pixie. This time with
two white loops between tongue and teeth. In the sports
centre’s spa I alternated sweaty lounging in either
the hot sauna or the steam room with cooling relaxation
in the pool and jaccuzzi, but my mind was buzzing. After
the spa I returned to the changing room, there were no more
Pixie photos, but locker number three was my new favourite.



Me: I love these pictures, you are doing special things
to my groin. And you can send as many as you like, (other body
parts too).


That evening I sent another message to her.


Me: Your luscious lewd mouth deserves a present.


And attached my photo of Old Glory in repose, the one Claudia
and Jen had liked.


Silvie: Oh yes? What will it be?


Me: did you not get the attachment?


Silvie: Oh god I'm salivating. Didn't see that
first time......


31st January 2013


Me: Just to let you know, the images of your sexy mouth were
on my mind all night. Eventually I had to take matters in
hand. Dolops of cum inspired by your red lips and taunting
tongue.


Silvie: I am flattered. I couldn't resist either.....I
came so hard I nearly broke my back.

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Ass to cunt to mouth without cleaning is not only DUMB, it
is also dangerous health wise, no matter how many douches
you have had.....

10/16/2015