4 comments/ 23374 views/ 8 favorites An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 01 By: hal_tee I wrote this story for Tiffany. Thanks for all your help, Tiff. I hope you're pleased with the outcome. Chapter One My moans urged Nick on as he thrust down into me. We hadn't made love much lately—he had been so incredibly busy with his new job—and I was determined to make the most of the rare opportunity. Relocating to Japan had been quite a culture shock, and one I was still acclimatising to. Nick had previously lived there for several years before we'd married, but I hadn't even visited the country on holiday. We'd purchased a luxury apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo and I had quickly come to learn in my first month there that the City was vibrant, full of life. But it was also a lonely place to a newly-married young woman who so far had spent most of her days stuck at home rather than exploring her new surroundings. It all seemed so daunting! And the roads were so busy that I had no confidence driving anywhere. Thank God for the constant supply of taxis. Things would change once I found a job, Nick kept telling me, but that had proved to be a nightmare so far. So I had stayed home during the first month like a wallflower, reading magazines and watching television, although there was only so much an outgoing girl could put up with. There were times I felt like screaming with the boredom. Thank goodness for my discovery of internet porn, even if it was of the Japanese variety. At times it felt like I was becoming a bit of an addict. With Nick working such long hours, and then being so tired when he eventually joined me in bed, it was the best way to satisfy my growing sexual cravings, even if it invariably left me desperate for the real thing. There was only so much satisfaction a girl could get from her favourite vibe, after all. Maybe that was why I had turned into a bitch in heat in moments like this? I wrapped my feet around my husband's back, scratching my fingernails across his skin as I dug my heels into his ass and pushed him even deeper inside me. "Come on, baby," I urged. "Fuck me harder..." His response was just what I needed. Raising himself up onto his elbows, he gave a grunt as he began to pound me even faster. "That's better," I growled, my voice reverberating in my ears under the delicious onslaught. "Yeah ... like that..." We'd met six months ago at a party in London and our whirlwind courtship had been like a fairytale. We'd moved in together almost instantly and in those days we made love two or even three times a day. Yet those carefree times seemed like a lifetime away now. Relocating to Japan had many benefits, but sex wasn't one of them. I don't think either of us had anticipated the long hours Nick would need to work to establish himself as a key member of Hiutsu Kyokota's high pressured management team. He'd spent more time travelling the length and breadth of Japan than with me so far and— His moan brought me from my reverie. The way he was panting hard was a sure-fire indication he was closing in on his orgasm. But even though his powers of recovery were impressive, I didn't want him to cum just yet. "Let me on top," I whispered, manoeuvring from underneath him before he could object. Twisting my body, I settled on his lap, leaning forward so that he could suckle each of my nipples in turn. That always made me cream. I knew he'd cum almost immediately if I fucked him in this position and instead I shuffled my body upwards, leaving a damp trail of juices across his chest as I slid my sex towards his face. "Get to work, buster," I rasped, clamping my thighs around his head. Gripping his dark hair with one hand, I yanked his mouth to my wetness in just the way the Japanese girl had done in yesterday's adult movie. When he stretched his neck upwards and ran his tongue across my smooth opening, I understood why she'd screamed out so loudly. "Oh fuck, yes baby, like that," I moaned, grinding down onto his wet lips. "Just like that..." When I began to gyrate on his face, in just the way the female Japanese porn star had done, Nick twisted his head so that he could breathe more easily. I moved slowly at first but—like the on-screen girl—very soon I began to increase the pace as the need overtook me. I was half-crazed as I frantically rubbed my sex across the whole of his face as the rapidly-building orgasm closed in and ... then ... quickly consumed me. Scraping my breasts along his perspiring skin, I slithered my body back down his and kissed him softly as I fitted his still-hard cock inside me. "Such a good boy," I whispered as I began to undulate on his muscular body. "Now it's your turn..." ONE WEEK LATER "This should be a fun evening," I rasped, as I rifled through the dresses in my closet. Nick sighed again, but he didn't need to respond. The way he rolled his eyes was enough. I was being petulant, I know, but the thought of attending a dinner organised by his firm wasn't exactly filling me with joy. From what he had explained to me, it would be a business meeting rather than a dinner—lots of business-talk among the men in a language I couldn't understand while their women obediently sat by and amused themselves. I knew I'd be bored out of my mind, but that wasn't the only reason for my crabbiness. Until his elderly boss, Hiutsu Kyokota, had arranged the last minute 'dinner' for his senior Executives—to discuss problems at their Kagoshima plant, apparently—we had planned to go out for a romantic meal. It was compensation for the fact I'd hardly seen my husband all week—again! "We both know I won't understand a thing about what's going on," I irritably whined, as I held a Dior black dress up against my body. Nick shook his head as I turned to him for approval, silently telling me the same thing he'd been saying for the last half-an-hour. It was too revealing for a business dinner of this nature. Well, fuck that! Approval or not, this was the dress I intended to wear. It was short but not too-short, low cut but not too-low cut, and if his boss considered this too revealing, my other dresses would blow his mind. "Are you sure—" Nick dubiously began, but then held his tongue as he saw the threatening look on my face. "I'm sure," I snapped, dropping the dress on the bed and casually sliding the white robe from my shoulders. When I saw his eyes flicker across my naked body, I couldn't help myself. We didn't have time for me to push him onto the bed and fuck his brains out, but at the very least I could give him a taste of what was in store when we returned to the apartment after dinner. Taking two steps towards him, I dropped my hand to his groin and squeezed him through his trousers. "Oh, did I do that?" I teased, batting my eyelashes at him as I felt him start to grow in my squeezing palm. I kissed him once, twice, as I tightened my grip further. His mind was trying to resist but his cock had other ideas. Glancing behind me, I kept my hand on him as I edged backwards until I sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. "We can't have you going to a business meeting in such a state, can we?" I said, innocently smiling up at him as I dragged down the zip of his trousers. I could see his dilemma reflecting back at me in his eyes. There wasn't any way we could be late for a dinner like this and yet his need was becoming—almost—as strong as mine. He was fully erect when I dragged his erection through the gap and when I deftly fed his cock into my wet mouth, suddenly all his resistance was gone. Tossing my blonde hair over my right shoulder, I sucked all the way down to the base. He didn't know it yet, but I intended to take him to the verge of an orgasm but no further. I wanted him to spend the rest of this evening thinking about what was waiting when we got home. --- Surprisingly, the dinner had turned out to be much more bearable than I had anticipated. Although Nick's multi-millionaire boss was in his seventies, his beautiful wife—Madame Yoko—was over twenty years younger and to my surprise she sat herself next to me at the long table. Her remarkable command of English ensured we were able to hold a long and interesting conversation. I had no idea she'd been a Supermodel in Japan and it transpired that we shared similar tastes in fashion, music and even the movies. Even with the dinner over, she stayed by my side. It was a generous gesture. I was the newest 'acquisition' to the wives, one who couldn't understand Japanese, and she was intent on making me feel comfortable. We sipped quietly at our wine as we watched our husband's converse in one corner of the room. Nick looked so handsome in that dark suit, I thought, and the way he was so fluently conversing in Japanese to Hiutsu Kyokota made me feel proud of him. I loved everything about him—his swarthy good looks, his crooked smile, his toned muscular body—and I hoped the memories of my unfinished blow job were still burning in his mind as much as it was mine. I was ready to fuck all night when we got home, assuming I managed to keep my hands off him during the taxi journey back there. I was already visualising what I intended to do to as soon as we walked through our apartment door. "They'll be talking for ages, Tiffany," Madame Yoko softly said in my ear. "Why don't we get a breath of fresh air? We can still keep an eye on them from the balcony." I found myself glancing at her as we headed across the room. With her classical cheekbones, large eyes and shiny, dark hair it wasn't difficult to understand why she'd been one of Japan's most sought-after Supermodels. The more I looked at her, the more beautiful I realised she was. She had a remarkable body too, with her diminutive height accentuating her curves, and even at her age she could have stepped right out of a Playboy magazine. "You need to understand its part of the way things work in my country," she explained as we leant against the ornate balcony rail. "Our men are the money earners, and it's our job as their women to stay in the background, support them when asked and be ready to let them fuck us when the need arises. Welcome to Japan." I stared at her witlessly for a few moments, shocked at such words from what I'd taken as such a demure Japanese woman, and then suddenly we both burst out laughing. "Unfortunately the need doesn't arrive anything as often as I'd like," I confessed, and then bit my lip. The words had left my mouth before I could stop them. "Ah, yes, a familiar problem," she empathised, not batting an eyelid. "Don't think you're any different to the rest of us, Tiffany, I'd say that every wife here shares the same frustration, including me." She paused, her dark eyes finding mine as she let the statement sink in. Even her? Somehow I couldn't imagine such a ravishing creature making love to someone as old as Hiutsu Kyokota, and suddenly the thought began to spark my imagination. All over the world, trophy wives were married to much older men. But did they regularly fuck? "My husband is a wonderful lover," she murmured, leaning closer to me. "But naturally his main preoccupation is his work and that isn't easy for women like us, who have huge sexual appetites." Like us? How could she know? Did I look that desperate? "It's written all over your face," she explained with a knowing smile, leaving me wondering if she could actually read my mind. "Especially in those beautiful eyes—a woman's eyes always give away her inner feelings." I glanced away momentarily as I felt myself blush and when my gaze found hers again, her smile had widened. "It's okay, Tiffany," she gently reassured me. "As I told you, every wife here shares the same frustration. But in Japan, we have learned ways to control those feelings. That's important if we are to take care of our men when they need us, yes?" "Yes," I instantly agreed, hoping she didn't ask how I coped. I didn't think that watching loads of internet porn while using my favourite vibe would qualify as an acceptable answer. "Then why don't we meet up for dinner one evening," she continued, supportively squeezing my arm. "Japan is a wonderful country but it takes some time to learn our ways. Don't expect too much, too quickly, that's not how it works here. But I'd be happy to help you take the steps you need if you'd really like to immerse yourself in our culture." My eyes instantly lit up and I felt a lump form in the back of my throat. Hiutsu Kyokota's wife was actually offering to help me? "I'd love that, Madame Yoko," I enthused, smiling gratefully. "Just call me Yoko when we're together," she persuasively told me. "I hate all this Madame Yoko stuff. It makes me feel like I'm passed it and I can definitely reassure you that I'm not." We chuckled together for a moment, and then I realised that the way her fingers were idly stroking along my bare skin was giving me goosebumps. Her eyes found mine again for a brief second before her gaze flickered over my left shoulder. "But for now," she murmured, "it looks like the business meeting has finished and we can take our husband's back. If I'm not mistaken, we both have some serious fucking to do tonight..." --- "I want you right now," I rasped, squeezing my husband's cock through his trousers. We'd only been sitting in the back of the taxi for a few seconds, but it was long enough for me to know I couldn't contain myself until we got back to our apartment. I was horny enough anyway, but my conversation with Madame Yoko had seemingly inspired me even further. Nick's shocked gaze found mine, then diverted forward to check the driver's mirror. Personally I couldn't care less if we could be observed. All I could think about was having my husband's cock inside me. "We can't do this in a taxi," he whispered, wrenching my hand away from his groin. "Not in Japan. We'll be arrested." "Don't be a wuss," I snapped, smacking his hand off mine. Nothing could stop me right now. Not when I was in this mood. I ignored his futile attempts to grab my hand again and distracted him with a kiss as I yanked the zip of his trousers downwards. "We can't," he weakly groaned, as I swiftly freed his cock and began to jerk his growing hardness in my palm. "Stop me," I challenged, reaching beneath my Dior dress with my other hand to drag my skimpy thong down my thighs. Turning my back to him and facing the front of the cab, I swung a leg across his body and leant back against his chest. Taking his hardness back in my hand, I placed it against my wet opening and looked over my shoulder at him. "Want it?" I teasingly growled, unwilling to feed him inside me until I practically had him begging for it. "Want your little wifey to fuck you?" He gasped as I rubbed myself along his length. I gasped too. God, that felt good. "Yeah," he grunted ... and within a nano-second I was taking him deep inside my needy sex. Raising my arms behind me, I interlaced my fingers behind his neck and began to jerk down on his hardness. We'd have all night when we reached our apartment but what I needed right now was a hard, quick, satisfying fuck. But that was before I met the taxi driver's gaze in his mirror... It hadn't been that difficult for him to cotton on to what we were up to, not with me facing him, moaning like a two dollar whore. Nick's words of warning suddenly hit me—this man could easily stop his cab, call the police and instinctively I dragged one strap of my dress down my shoulder, then the other, feeling my nipples harden further as I exposed my breasts to the cold night air... and his gaze. He seemed to nod his approval—or was it my imagination?—but nevertheless he made no move to stop the car. His narrowed eyes were all over my tits and it seemed he just wanted to watch. I slowed my pace into a gently grind downwards as I maintained eye contact in the mirror. Fuck, it was so hot being watched. In my mind's eye I could see what he could see, a half-naked English woman in the back of his cab, bare breasts swaying from side to side as she gyrated downwards on her man. Now that I knew he wasn't going to report us—that we were safe—I relaxed my pace even further until I was just slowly moving up and down. If Nick knew I was so wantonly displaying myself to the driver he would have been appalled. And even I didn't know what had gotten into me. Was it because I felt like I was watching myself perform in my own porn film? "How's that?" I found myself asking, although I genuinely wasn't sure which of the two men I was speaking to. "So fucking good," I heard Nick appreciatively grunt into my ear. I wore little diamond studs in each lobe, as well as a small, silver loop at the top of my left ear, and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. My hands found my tits, pulling on my nipples as I instantly picked up the pace of my lap grind. Only this time I was putting a little more emphasis into my gyrations in my wicked need to put on a show for my audience. "Tell me when you're close," I said softly, as I felt Nick's breath quicken. "I'm close." Geez, that hadn't taken long. He was clearly as needy as I was. "Then give me what I want," I snapped, forgetting the driver at last and bouncing on him as hard as I could for thirty more seconds. I was off him as soon as I felt his balls begin to tighten, twisting my body around in the confined space just in time to catch the first blast of cum in my slippery mouth. God, he tasted good. I used my right hand to stroke his cock as he came, milking him as I swallowed every drop he had. It was only when I was sure he had nothing left that I released him, licking my lips as he slumped backwards into the leather seat. Sitting up, I glanced back at the driver's mirror and saw the man grinning back at me. Even in the semi dark I could just make out that two of his front teeth were missing. Giving him one final look at my tits, I grinned back at him as I slowly pulled my dress back into place and settled back in the seat. "Think of that as starters," I grunted, turning sideways to face Nick as I tucked his diminishing cock back into his trousers. "The main course commences as soon as we walk through our apartment door." THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND I loved my large, round whirlpool tub. When we'd first moved into the apartment, Nick and I had shared a hot sensual bubble bath a few times and it always ended the same way, passionately fucking one another while the water splashed all around us and over onto the wooden bathroom floor. That seemed a long time ago now. Even the rampant sex we'd enjoyed after our fuck in the taxi was becoming a distant memory. Hiutsu Kyokota had phoned Nick the very next day to tell him that the problems at the Kagoshima plant couldn't wait and the call had resulted in him instantly packing his bags and travelling to the region's southernmost major city that afternoon. Seven days later, he was still there. All I'd had for company since then was my internet porn, my favourite vibe, and several bottles of chilled Chardonnay. And yet I was excited about tonight—I was meeting Yoko again. She'd telephoned me mid-week to tell me she'd made a dinner reservation for us and had even suggested we travel on to an exclusive club she knew afterwards. I was flattered that she was taking such an interest and wanted to look my best. Before I'd met the former Supermodel I was feeling that my life in Japan was going nowhere. Now I felt it was about to change for the better. I took another sip from the glass of Chardonnay beside me before returning it to the curved rim and tipping my blonde hair back into the foamy water. I let it momentarily soak there before smoothing it back over my scalp as I sat up and curled my right foot over the side of the tub. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 01 The way the water traced its way along my thigh and then trickled back into the tub looked kind of erotic to me. I picked up the bottle of body wash from the side and pushed my body up from the bath. Lathering the liquid in both hands, I had to resist the temptation to let my fingers stray between my thighs as I spread it across my stubble. I was here to shave, not play with myself. It didn't take long for my little pink razor to complete its task, and my skin felt incredibly smooth as I slowly ran my fingers ran across my newly-shaved flesh. Ridiculously, I found myself wondering if Yoko was smooth, too—she'd been a model after all. Still, based on the evidence of the Japanese porn I'd watched over the last month, it seemed unlikely. Shaking away the absurd thought, I placed my hands on the side of the tub and pushed upwards and out of the bath. Still dripping water, I grabbed a towel and patted myself dry as I made my way to the bedroom and opened the top drawer of my bedside table. Why not, I told myself, taking out my vibe. I had time, didn't I? The mirror on the dressing table was tilted perfectly from my masturbatory session last night, allowing me to watch my reflection from the bed. I settled back on the sheets and switched on the vibrator as I thought back to my session with Nick in the taxi. Had I really put on a show for the driver? I'd never done anything quite like that before. I'd wondered several times since then if he'd played with himself while he watched us, watched me. He must have done, mustn't he, even while driving? For whatever reason, that thought had never failed to arouse me. I slid the vibe inside me as my imagination begun to wander. What if Nick hadn't been in the taxi? What if the driver had exposed himself to me? And the worst of them all—what if it was him I was fucking, not my husband. Girl, I told myself as my hips began to pump upwards from the bed, you need it real bad. TWO NIGHT'S LATER I hadn't been this drunk in some time. Well, maybe not drunk, not yet. But close. We had meet at the high end Kozue restaurant, perched far above the fray on the fortieth floor of the Park Hyatt, and my mouth had dropped open as soon as I'd walked through the door. I'd never been in such an opulent setting, not even in England. "Everyone who is anyone dines here," Yoko had smilingly told me, and then pointed out one Japanese celebrity after another. "It usually takes months to obtain a reservation," she'd added, "but if you ever need a table, just use my name." She had ordered for us—a shabu-shabu of perfectly marbled beef from premium wagyu cattle—along with the expensive Koshu wine that had been my undoing. I'd over-indulged, which hadn't been a good idea considering the amount I'd already drunk before leaving my apartment. I apologised of course, but Yoko just told me not to be so silly. I was her guest this evening and anything went, she'd pointed out, and added that she was drinking every bit as much as I was. Maybe she could hold her booze better? All I knew was that by the time we'd finished the meal, my cheeks were red, my head was woozy, and a delightful feeling of wellbeing had settled over me. Despite her undeniable fame—a former Supermodel married to one of Japan's most successful and wealthiest businessmen—it was so easy to talk to her. She had me laughing out loud at some of her stories about her modelling exploits while gasping in disbelief at others. If only the public knew what some of these high-profile models got up to in their private lives! But basically, we were just two women out together for the evening, enjoying one another's company. She'd insisted on ordering liqueurs before we left the restaurant, and by the time we'd headed onto the exclusive nightclub she regularly frequented I was becoming unsteady on my feet as well as slurring the occasional word. It occurred to me that Nick would have been appalled to see me in this state when I was in the company of his boss's beautiful wife, but whose fault was that? He shouldn't leave me by myself for such long stretches, should he? And anyway, he was apparently so busy at the plant that he hadn't even telephoned me on either of the last two evenings. So why shouldn't I enjoy myself? I'd complained about his forgetfulness to Yoko as we'd travelled in the taxi to the Starlight Lounge—for the first time since I'd arrived in Japan, I felt like I'd found someone I could really open up to—but she'd patiently reminded me that work were rightfully first, second and third priorities in her country. "It's our role to take care of our men when they are at home," she'd added. "We must look after their happiness, but to do so we have to be content, too. Otherwise how can we support them effectively?" Even in my fuzzy brain, what she said made sense, but there was only one way I was finding temporary contentment in Nick's absence and I wasn't sure if there was any long term future in that... "Let me introduce you to traditional Japanese massage," she added, resting her hand soothingly on my bare thigh. "Japanese models discovered the secret years ago and I have regular sessions with the same masseuse for years now. Táchira just has this perfect way of making me feel good about myself." "I'll try anything," I absent-mindedly agreed, suddenly more interested in the sensations created by her fingers on my thigh than what she was saying. But just as quickly they fingers had moved away and the taxi was easing to a stop outside a brightly lit club in what appeared to be a side street. "I'll book you a slot with Táchira," she whispered as we alighted onto the narrow, cobbled pavement. "I guarantee you're going to love him." --- The Starlight Lounge—in the heart of the Shinjuku entertainment district—was alive with salsa. Tokyo's most exclusive nightclub was filled with the live percussionists, playing off giant conga drum stages, each song transitioning into the next. I hadn't had so much fun dancing in a long time. But I was happy enough to adjourn to one of the bars when Yoko suggested it, allowing me a break from the series of guys trying to hit on me. "You can't blame them," Yoko laughed as she ordered more Amaretto sours. "Many Japanese men adore European women, and when they're beautiful and blonde..." She left the statement unfinished, and it struck me that it was the first time she'd called me beautiful. Her breath felt deliciously warm on my cheek and she smelled good—some kind of spicy perfume. It was the alcohol, I told myself, as I felt my nipples harden, and I grinned inanely at her as I downed yet another drink. The bar glowed green and blue against the orangey lights of the rest of the club and I could feel my body continuing to sway to the beat as if it had a mind of its own. Everything here felt larger than life and my gaping eyes took in the uninhibited scene around us. I could smell drugs as well as alcohol in the air and on the dance floor everyone was working their bodies in their own unique style. "Liquid dancing," Yoko whispered in my ear. "It's a crazy type of dancing that only comes out of a person when they've had too much to drink. Why don't you show me how crazy a beautiful English woman can be..." There it was again—this stunning former Supermodel had called me beautiful. I was so lost in the moment that I had no idea how I found myself in the middle of the dance floor, but I did. It felt like all my cares had faded into the background and I smiled to myself as Yoko watched from the bar as I gave myself up to the music and just let myself go. I had no idea how long I danced, nor did I care. Men were dancing around me, beside me, with me, against me—young Japanese men—and I danced uninhibitedly with them, not just allowing one set after another of groping hands to wander over my body but practically encouraging it. There was one guy in particular who persistently cupped my asscheeks and pulled me tight against him. After a couple of weak attempts to drag his hands away, I eventually just let him have his way and felt myself grinding back on his hard cock as he thrust it against me. When his friend moved behind me, the combination of two hard cocks simultaneously thrusting against my groin and my ass was impossible to resist. I knew I should stop them. I was married after all, but the fuzziness inside my head was stopping me from thinking clearly. At least, that's what I told myself. The reality was that I desperately needed some sort of physical contact in Nick's prolonged absence and—with one pair of hands fondling my tits through my Armani dress and the other dragging the hem of my dress upwards—they were edging closer to actually fucking me on the dance floor. Yoko's intervention came just in time. She appeared from nowhere and her disapproving glance at the two young men sent them immediately scurrying for cover. I almost screamed out my frustration above the heavy music when she led me away. "Never in public, Tiffany," her husky voice breathed in my ear. "But I know exactly what will help..." --- I knew it was the early hours of the morning—maybe two or three o'clock—but I wasn't aware of much else except that I was lying naked on a large bed in a luxurious massage studio. Yoko had taken me there. I couldn't remember much about the journey there, except that Yoko had continually stroked my hair as she'd told me that I had to be more circumspect in public, and that her masseuse was going to take good care of me. A traditional Japanese massage would ease all the simmering tensions inside me, she'd promised, before leaving me to Táchira's ministrations. The small, inoffensive-looking man wasn't what I'd expected at all. In my inebriated state, I'd been hoping that a young, strapping, muscular masseuse would be working on me, rather than a shaven headed fifty year-old sporting a wispy grey beard. But perhaps it was just as well, I convinced myself... There wasn't any risk of impropriety with this man. As his soft hands massaged the scented oil across my body—was I really lying naked infront of this stranger, without even a hint of embarrassment?—it soon became clear why Yoko had sung his praises. The knowledgeable way the white uniformed masseuse went to work on each of my tense muscle groups confirmed that he was indeed an expert in his profession. "Relax, Missy," he told me in his pigeon English when his searching fingers found yet another tense knot. "Close eyes and hand body over to Táchira." Hand my body over? I wondered if he could hear my chuckle. That's exactly what I'd been doing on the dance floor for the last couple of hours. My vibe would be working overtime when I got home, but I kept reminding myself that I didn't need to think about that right now. All I had to do was concentrate on the sensations created by his experienced touch. The way he continued to pour copious amounts of oil onto my body as he worked—slowly, sensually—had me purring like a cat. As time went on it soon became clear that while caressing fingers were gradually working the kinks out of my body, they were also unlocking the sexual feelings I'd experienced with two hard cocks grinding into me on the dance floor. I willed myself to lie still and focus on the moment, but my purr upped a couple of notches as his oil-covered fingers took the fullness of my breasts in his hands, rotating them in one direction and then the other. This couldn't be normal, I told myself, but how could I object when this was Yoko's masseuse. Did he touch her this way, so intimately? Surely not! The illicit thought began to draw pictures in my mind, pictures I shouldn't be seeing, and I closed my eyes as I attempted to will them away. "Relax, Missy," his soft voice told me again. "Relax." Relax? How could I when my heart was practically pumping out of my chest. I tried to think of Nick but instead it was the two young men at the nightclub who came in to my mind, touching me, feeling me, grinding against me. Their hands had been all over my body. Just like Táchira's... His fingers were sliding up into my armpits, making me gasp before they returned to my tits. He repeated the action, over and over, building up the anticipation inside me before eventually giving me what I craved by smoothing his fingers over my breasts, deliberately rubbing my thrusting nipples. I groaned out my disappointment as his hands temporarily left me, but to my relief it was only so that he could spread more oil across my breasts. When they returned to my nipples, the sensations as he squeezed them between his thumbs and forefingers and were even more intense and I had to screw my eyes tightly shut in an attempt to hold off my rapidly approaching orgasm. For a moment sanity returned and I tried to pull his hands away, tried to push myself up from the larger than average massage table, but Táchira patiently returned my hands to my side, telling me again in his pigeon English to relax. When his probing hands returned to my tingling flesh, they moved downwards this time, to my stomach. I could feel my whole body shaking as I suddenly thought of my husband. Nick would be appalled if he could see me now, allowing a stranger—even a masseuse—to touch me so intimately. He would have expected me to cover myself, politely thank him for his efforts and then excuse myself and leave as quickly as possible. But he wasn't here, he was in Kagoshima. His work was more important than I was. Despite Yoko's explanation of what was expected in Japan, it was hard to accept that I no longer came first in his life. Even as my alcohol-muddled brain tried to make sense of my feelings, the heat inside my body was reaching fever pitch. Táchira's hands had flicked some switch and I hoped the continuous series of groans I could hear weren't mine. Dammit, he was pouring oil on my inner thighs now. I'd already learned that where the oil flowed, his hands followed. I kept my eyes closed as I battled my inner demons, telling myself to keep my legs firmly together and yet not offering even token resistance as his firm hands eased my thighs apart. Then his fingernails were scraping along my skin, massaging closer ... and closer. Was he testing me? Seeking approval? If so, the way my ass began to rise from the massage table gave him his answer. His fingers covered the outside of my flesh at first, teasing me before tantalisingly edging inwards, shooting to the very edge of my labia. I was dimly aware that I was raising my body even higher, offering myself up to him, and when he took advantage his two fingers made a wonderful squelching sound as they slid into my wetness. Inside my head, I was screaming, pushing his hands away, covering myself up and jumping down from the table. This couldn't happen. I was married. But in the mirror across the room—specifically placed for the purpose?—I could see my legs widen as forced his fingers deeper, and then I was throwing my head back as I squeezed them, rocked on them, pumped my heaving body upwards and fucked them like a madwoman. --- This wasn't happening. It couldn't be, could it? I'd been so busy coming down from my climax that at first I hadn't realised Táchira had climbed on the table beside me and released his surprisingly large cock from his white uniform. I stared weakly at him as his hands found my ankles, pulling my legs upwards and holding them apart. When he eased himself inside my unresisting body, I gasped out loud. No, I told myself. It wasn't happening. It wasn't. It had to be a dream. I was married and the man about to fuck me wasn't my husband. I should be screaming at the diminutive, wispy bearded man. I should be pushing him off me, insisting that he had to stop. Yet, instead, my curled fingers were clutching the sides of the padded massage table and I was whimpering out my need like a rampant animal as his wonderful thickness began to pump inside me. "Oh my God ... Oh my God ... Oh my God ..." They were my words, over and over again. "Oh my God ... Oh my God ... Oh my God ..." His rhythm was steadier than Nick, almost machine-like, just like some of the guys I'd watched in the porn movies. How many times had I wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end? Now I knew. And despite this being wrong, so very wrong, I wanted more. I gasped out my approval when he leaned forward and pinned my legs back either side of my breasts. When he began to pound me harder and deeper, I twisted my head to the side as I began to moan like a two dollar whore. "Don't stop, Táchira," I found myself begging him, the words slurred but still partially intelligible. "Please don't stop." He didn't. Not for a long time... An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 02 I wrote this story for Tiffany. Thanks for all your help, Tiff. I hope you're pleased with the outcome. Chapter Two I normally got out of bed with Nick each morning he was at home, even when he was heading off to work at some ridiculously early hour. With him continuing to be so busy, those moments were some of the few opportunities I had to spend some time with him. But not this week. This week, I'd been avoiding him as much as I could, still paralyzed with guilt at what I'd done during the last couple of weeks. How could all this have escalated so quickly? Not that Nick had noticed my withdrawn reaction. He was too busy working every minute of the day and night. So, like most mornings this week, I waited until I heard the front door close before pulling myself out of bed. I hated acting like this, but until I could get my head together and think more clearly, it was the path of least resistance. I fixed myself a pot of coffee as I paged through a few back copies of Japanese fashion magazines. Yoko had provided them for me at my request, so that I could see her in her prime Supermodelling days. Each one featured her photograph on the front cover and if anything, despite the newsprint's poor ink quality, she was even more beautiful when she was younger. The way those dark eyes stared back at me from each front page cover sent a shiver of appreciation through me—she was so charismatic, so vibrant—and yet that indefinable quality of hers shone through, too. The one that told you she could see inside your soul and help you obtain anything you wanted. Even if that need had been buried deep inside your unconscious mind... I ducked into the shower as I began to dwell on what had happened over the last couple of weeks. While I hated myself for doing what I had, there was no denying how exciting it had been. My emotions were a confused mess of self-loathing, disgust, and unquestionably thrilling eroticism. It was as if I'd returned to the wild days I'd continually enjoyed before I'd met Nick. My long, golden hair and curvy body had attracted men ever since I was a teenager and sex became as natural to me as breathing. Life was for living, yes? It was only I'd met Nick that I'd put that wild side behind me. Yet, as I soaped my body beneath the hot spray of the shower, a very wicked voice whispered, "But you miss it..." It was true. I did. The impish voice had been with me since childhood—since I'd first learned to masturbate, when I'd had my first cigarette, my first taste of alcohol, my first joint, my first forbidden fuck with a married man, and when I'd experienced my first woman. And it had recently returned with a vengeance. The luffah felt good as I glided it along my skin, sending little electric jolts through my body as I passed it over my nipples. I sighed with pleasure as I set it down, switching to my hands to spread the liquid soap across my breasts, my flat stomach, and ... down between my legs. "No," I murmured aloud, pulling my fingers away. I really had to find a way out of the all-consuming arousal that was threatening to drown me. Yoko was immersing me in a new world, one in which I was returning to my wild past and indulging my sexual thirst. But my past was my past and things were different now—I was married, after all. And yet I'd visited the exclusive massage studio three more times since Yoko had originally taken me there. I'd been drunk that first time, drunk and horny, and had been unable to resist Táchira as he took the massage to a different level. But since then I'd known exactly what I was doing. Yoko had arranged and paid for the further appointments, twice weekly, persuasively telling me that by relieving my sexual tensions in such a discreet way, I'd be better prepared to take care of Nick's needs when he needed attention. It was the Japanese way, she'd convincingly explained. I'd gone along with the strange logic, telling myself that she knew better than I and that I'd do anything to help Nick's wellbeing. But inside my mind, my little voice was whispering the truth. The real reason I was indulging myself was because of the sexual needs that had building inside me ever since the pressures of Nick's job had gradually made our sex life virtually nonexistent. That's when everything had begun to escalate... Táchira had once again shown me what a wonderful lover he was on my second visit, but the third time he wasn't available. Or so I'd been told. A younger masseuse had attended to me and I'd been so shocked I'd almost fled. Almost... Instead, I'd allowed him to go through the same ritual as Táchira—making me cum with his fingers before climbing onto the large massage table and fucking my brains out. It had actually been more exciting with him, because I'd known what was about to happen. The next visit it was an older, thickset Japanese masseuse who was waiting for me. He'd had a humongous cock. But now—well, now—the warning bells were well and truly ringing in the back of my head, telling me that I had a difficult decision to make. Matters were close to getting out of hand and if I kept this morning's appointment at the exclusive studio, it could well be too late to put a stop to all this. I needed time to think. Despite Yoko's persuasive words, I wasn't become a better wife to Nick through this—I was avoiding him, for God's sake. And worse, all this sex wasn't satisfying me, far from it. I was craving even more with every illicit fuck. I'd fucked three different Japanese men over the last couple of weeks and number four would be waiting for me at the studio later. Despite the eager voice whispering in my ear, could I really allow that to happen? Before I'd properly thought through the consequences? No, it would be much safer to stay home today and give myself time to think. --- I hooked my legs around the masseuse's slim body and dug the soles of my feet into the top of his ass. Oh my God, the way it forced his hard cock even more deeply inside me was sublime. So much for my resolution! When it had come down to it, the little voice in my ear had won out and I hadn't been able to resist the thought of checking out the new masseuse waiting for me. I hadn't been disappointed. His youthful good looks were only outweighed by his arrogance, but I didn't mind that. I'd had plenty of arrogant men in the past and there was something about attitude that had always turned me on. Unlike the others, he didn't massage me for long before stripping out of his white uniform and letting me see his lean body. I almost drooled at the sight. When he offered his cock to my mouth, I instantly pushed up onto my knees and sucked his youthful prize between my eager lips. Saliva dripped from my mouth as I pleasured him, and I heard him whispering his encouragement in Japanese as he slowly fucked my mouth. But eventually, just as I had him on the verge of blowing, he guided me back down onto my back and grinned into my eyes as he entered me. The sensation of his hard cock deep sinking inside my needy body made me gasp out loud and I was so turned on that, even though he hadn't started to fuck me, my hips were already rising and falling on the padded massage bed as I thrust upwards, seeking more of that delicious friction. He simply held himself in position as I moved on him, smiling condescendingly into my lust-fuelled eyes as I used his cock as my masturbatory tool. It was almost obscene the way I wantonly humped upwards on him, growling out my need as I sought maximum contact. And all the time he kept staring at me, a soft smile on his young Oriental face as he began to talk to me again, telling me hot, dirty, sexual things that I could readily understand even if they were in a language I couldn't. I lost myself in my need for release with each word he uttered and each push of my hips. When it came and I screamed out my climax, my body arched like a bow so that only my shoulders and heels remained on the large massage bed. I hadn't felt this wanton for longer than I could remember. In truth, Táchira had been the best lover of all the masseuses. That second time we'd been together he'd taken me in every position I knew and a couple I had never even dreamed of. I could remember being on top of him at one point—arms out wide like the wings of a plane as I'd undulated on his beautifully hard cock like a lap dancer—and after I'd cum for the umpteenth time he'd steadily fucked me again, missionary style, for well over an hour. But as experienced as Táchira had been, there was something about this young masseuse's cocky attitude that was so appealing... When he began to thrust inside me, I reached up to grab his hair. He took me slowly at first, teasing me, until I began to beg him to fuck me faster. When he obliged, his triumphant eyes made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. He might look like something out of 'the Karate Kid' but he was making me growl like the bitch in heat I was. Adjusting his position, he pulled my legs up over his shoulders as he began to fuck me harder. I growled even louder as I felt another climax well up, squeezing my pussy muscles around him. "God, your cock feels good," I groaned. His smiling response was to fuck me even harder. His young balls slapped against me, forcing a heavy grunt through his teeth with each thrust. I could feel another orgasm building as he pumped inside of me like a pneumatic drill and when I came again, he didn't even pause, fucking me through the orgasm. A second climax quickly followed and I cried out my pleasure as he pounded me even harder—but this time the look in his dark narrowed eyes was different. He was nearly there, too. I could tell. "You're close?" I begged, hysterical. "Hai," he hissed, his face tightening into a cringe. "Do it!" I snarled, crossing my ankles behind his head and yanking him into me. The weight of his body compressed me even more, driving his cock even deeper inside, if such a thing were possible. His young passion was primordial and my blonde hair fanned out on the massage table as he gave me what I wanted, what I needed. When I dug my fingernails into his shoulder blades, his shout started loud and ended louder as he went off inside me like a depth charge. Thank God I couldn't have children. I lay back, exhausted, an awful feeling of emptiness inside my sex when his young cock eventually left me. But to my delight he was simply changing position so that he could offer his cock to my mouth again. I took it greedily, cleaning the head with my tongue before sucking him back into a state of semi-erection. Satisfied, he flipped me onto my stomach as easily as turning a chicken on the barbeque and pushed himself back inside his blonde English prize. Arousal flared inside me. On all fours, doggie-style, I could imagine myself in my own porn film, my tits bouncing like two pieces of ripe fruit while I pushed my ass upwards to better feel that hard cock begin to ram inside me again. When he grabbed my hair, yanking my head back holding it in mid air, I almost passed out with need. Oh fuck ... I was going to cum again... THE WEEKEND I lay awake in bed, listening to the water running in the en-suite bathroom as Nick took his usual early morning shower. He had returned home even later than usual last night, and complained he was too tired when I'd wanted to make love. I'd thought I'd be able to change his mind the moment he joined me in bed but he'd fallen asleep the moment his head had hit the pillow. The sex I'd been enjoying in the massage studio had begun to ease the sexual frustrations I'd felt during our first few weeks in Tokyo, especially when combined with my still vibrant enjoyment of Japanese porn. But this was my husband. Shouldn't we be having sex regularly, too? I wanted to talk it through with Yoko when we met for lunch today—I could always rely on her to straighten out my thinking, especially when I was trying to control my vivid imagination. Since my sessions with the different masseuses, I'd even begun to look at Japanese men in the street, fantasising about how much they wanted to fuck me and what it would be like to give them what they wanted. Yoko had told me some time ago that the men in her country found blonde European women to be particularly attractive and I knew what most of guys were thinking as they surreptitiously glanced at me. Heck, I'd even started to wear provocative clothes whenever I was travelling or shopping, or leaving an extra button undone on my Ralph Lauren Blue Label sheer shirt, or maybe crossing and uncrossing my stockinged legs when sitting in an outside cafe during a deliberate coffee stop. And when I returned home, I masturbated long and hard while allowing my imagination to run riot... It was the same while I was sleeping, even with Nick beside me. All the fantasies I had nurtured during the day would come to the fore and I invariably awoke from my sleepy state with my hand working between my legs. But not this morning, I thought, dragging my wet fingers away from my sex. Nick might have been too tired last night but he'd be fully awake after his shower. Maybe there would be time this morning? Or even in the shower. How long was it since we'd done that? The thought was so inspirational that I practically rushed out of bed, giving Nick my most mischievous smile as I joined him in the en-suite bathroom. "Want some company, baby?" His eyes would normally have instantly lit up, but instead all I could see was a sense of trepidation in them. Worrying about getting to work on time? A tinge of sadness passed through me—had our marriage really reached that stage? Okay, I thought, maybe a long fuck under the cascading water followed by another session on the bedroom floor might not be the best idea right now. But that didn't mean we couldn't play for a short while. "Why don't you let me," I breathed, stepping into the shower with him and taking the gel from his hands. Before he could protest, I tipped the bottle so that the liquid covered my palms and worked the creamy lather over the smooth skin of his chest. "Sshhh," I told him as he tried to object, "this won't take long..." I had intended to take my time, to tease him, but instead I immediately dropped my hand to his flaccid cock. It wouldn't remain dormant for long. He moaned as I began to stroke him and his shaft grew impressively with each jerk of my palm. The soft movement of my fingers quickly turned into masturbatory strokes and when I brought my other hand to his balls, his body twitched. "See," I teased, pressing my body into his and trapping his semi erect cock against my stomach. "I think we like that..." I reached around him with both arms and slid my hands down onto his hard buttocks, working the gel into the crevice of his asscheeks. He moaned again and I leaned back so that I could run my tongue around each of his nipples before I began to slither downwards. The water cascaded over me like a waterfall as I dropped to my knees and licked along the length of his hard cock. That felt so hot... Maybe I could take a shower with one of the masseuse's next time, I idly wondered? They wouldn't be rushing away, that was for sure. But neither was my husband—not right now. His hands were on my shoulders as I licked from root to tip, determined that this blow job would be my best ever work. Maybe then he'd want me more? Taking the head into my mouth, I curled my tongue around his crown. That had always excited him. He widened his stance as I gently sucked and then he grunted when I took his hard balls in my hand again. The water bouncing off our bodies heightened the moment and I coated him with my saliva, letting it drool down his length before working it into his stiffness with both hands. "Good, baby?" I asked, slurping off his cock. For some reason I need his confirmation, his approval. When Nick glanced down at me and nodded, that dreamy look in his eyes confirmed everything I needed to know. He wouldn't remain this busy forever, would he? Then our lives could get back to normal again. I lifted his cock upwards, holding it there for a few tantalising seconds as I trailed my tongue along the underside of his shaft. When his fingers went to my wet hair, I slid my lips down to his balls. One by one, I sucked each of them into my mouth, loving the way his cock jerked. He wasn't going to last much longer. I frantically swallowed down on his entire length again, even more saliva dripping from my mouth as I frantically worked to take him over the edge. I gripped his balls more tightly and took the thick base of his crown between my teeth, growling like a dog with a bone. He sent a volley of curses into the air as he tried to drag my head away, but I wasn't going to be denied my prize. I momentarily held him there, trapped between my lips, while my eyes flicked upwards into his. This was my husband. I loved him... My mouth plunged downwards again as he roared out his first release. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I swallowed hard and then jerked my head away, taking the second blast across my right eyelid and the third across the base of my nose. I reached up with my tongue to lick a hanging globule between my lips before taking him in my mouth again, urging out the final blast. I almost creamed between my legs as it coated the insides of my mouth. Sitting back on my haunches, I began to smile up at him but he was already leaving the shower, telling me he needed to hurry or he'd be late. I sat there, water cascading down on me as I watched through the glass screen as he quickly towelled himself dry and then made his way to the bedroom. What the fuck? Closing my eyes, I dropped my hand between my legs and began to finger myself on the wet tiled floor. If Nick was no longer interested in me, there were plenty of men who were. Like that older guy who had smiled at me in the department store yesterday and asked if I would like him to buy it for me when I'd tried on a piece of jewellery. I'd often wondered since then what he would have wanted in return if I'd said yes. Maybe I'd call into the store again later today, on my way to meet Yoko? Just in case he was still around. --- Yoko ordered Shungyo cocktails for us after our lunch, explaining that they were made of sake, vodka, green tea liqueur and salted cherry blossom. Given the choice I would probably have chosen something less exotic but, as ever, her choice was perfect. They really were quite delicious. And potent. By the time we were on our third—Yoko didn't do anything by halves—a delightful combination of wellbeing and growing arousal had settled over me. "So..." she softly said, just as the wooziness creeping into my head was starting to take hold. "So..." I replied with a giggle. "I can see that you have something on your mind," she perceptively told me. How did she know these things? "I'm told the massage sessions are going well, so it can't be that. Want to talk about it?" I felt my heart rise in anticipation of where the conversation could be going. If I could talk to anyone about my issues, it was this woman, but even then it wasn't easy. Besides, how could she know about my massage sessions? "Who told you—" A wave of her hand cut me off mid sentence and when she responded, she sounded almost disappointed ay my naïveté. "Oh Tiffany, haven't you learned by now that there are no secrets from Madame Yoko? I know everything I need to know about people who are important to me. For example..." She paused for what seemed like an eternity, leaving me wondering what was coming next. My heart began to pound as I waited for her to continue. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 02 "For example," she slowly continued, drawing out the moment, "did you know the masseuses at the studio are practically fighting among themselves to get their turn with the beautiful, blonde English lady? You've caused quite a stir amongst them, Tiffany. Quite the prize..." A soft smile split her lips as my mouth dropped open in surprise. "Oh yes," she enthused, nodding knowingly at me. "I was intrigued when Táchira first suggested passing you over to one of his colleagues, but then I thought, why not? Variety is the spice of life after all. And I must say, you've taken to Japanese men like a duck to water. Both English expressions, yes?" I felt a blush break out across my body, accompanied by goosebumps that made me shiver. It was bad enough that Yoko appeared to know the intimate details of my time in the studio, but here she was talking about it in such a casual fashion. But even so ... the masseuses were fighting over me? I was the beautiful, blonde English lady and I'd caused quite a stir amongst them? Quite the prize? Yoko laughed heartily at the sudden change of expression on my face. It was as if she could read my thoughts again. "That's right," she continued, shooting me a furtive smile. "You have a special quality about you, Tiffany. I recognised it the first time we met. On the outside you're cool and sophisticated, but inside there's an uninhibited streak. You have no real idea of how desirable that makes you to the vast majority of Japanese men, do you?" I ran my fingers through my hair as I shook my head. What could I say? I wasn't so sure about the 'cool and sophisticated' but she'd certainly spotted my wilder side. Was it that obvious? Was that why men in the street looked at me in the way they did? Embarrassed, I picked up my drink and swirled the liquid in its cocktail glass as I tried to clear my head. Why did this woman always seem to hit me with such things when I'd had too much alcohol? "It's the truth," she gently said, stroking a single fingernail along my bare forearm. The seemingly innocent gesture sent a shiver down my spine. Geez, what was wrong with me? Had I really had that much to drink? "But back to the original point," Yoko continued, drawing her fingernail in a circle on my skin now. "I was suggesting that you have something on your mind. Perhaps a little bit of guilt creeping in?" I shook my head in an attempt to concentrate on her words rather than her actions. Was I really thinking it had been too long since I'd been with another woman? Focus, I told myself. Focus! "Yes, there's some guilt," I blurted, suddenly bashful as I glanced down at my empty drink before brushing my fingers once again through my loose hair. "But it's more than that. You said that if I worked out some of my, er, tensions, I'd be better able to take care of Nick's needs. But the problem is his sex drive is pretty much nonexistent right now and, if anything, we have less time together now than ever before." Yoko's fingernail paused on my skin and I found myself secretly wishing that she would continue. But then she was talking again. "It's a cyclical thing," she calmly said. "All men feel like they have something to prove when they move jobs and Nick is no different. In fact, in a different country, he probably feels the need more acutely. That's why he's giving everything to his job right now. He has a lot to cope with. The best thing for you is to recognise that and supporting him." "How?" I asked, as her hand reassuringly squeezed mine. "By concentrating on your own reality," she explained. "Give him the space to cope with his priorities, and establish some of your own. Didn't we agree the first time we met that we both had huge sexual appetites? I think you've displayed that with Táchira and the others..." She chuckled as my blush deepened. "What you've been doing in the privacy of a private massage studio isn't cheating, Tiffany. These men mean nothing to you, do they? They're just there to be used, to burn off some of that sexual tension you're inevitably feeling. It's called self-preservation. Fuck them, leave them, and then move onto the next. Then when your husband has established himself and your marriage gets back to normal, you return to playing the role of the good wife. It really is that simple. If you were familiar with our culture, you'd realise that by now." I blinked several times, knowing there had to be a flaw in her logic but unable to find it in my present state. It occurred to me that if I didn't love Nick so much, this conversation would have been much easier. "Tell me this," she suddenly continued. "Do you trust me?" "Of course," I answered without a moment's hesitation. At last, a question I could answer without even needing to think about it. "Good," she responded, using that fingernail again as I stared into her eyes. "Put yourself in my hands," she told me. "I've been through this several times before with other women and I really do know what's best for you. Okay?" I nodded silently. My tendency to overthink things had always brought problems with it and putting myself in her hands, letting her guide me, was a wonderfully comforting idea. Maybe then I wouldn't be racked with such guilt? Her lips were tantalisingly close as I looked at her again and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss them. But even as the irresistible compulsion grew to almost breaking point, she was suddenly moving away, sitting back in her seat as she waved towards the drinks waiter. "Excellent," she purred happily. "Why don't we have one more cocktail and then my limo will run you back to your apartment?" --- I rested my head back against the leather seat in the rear of the limousine and closed my eyes. My head was spinning ... too much alcohol ... and too many thoughts that didn't make any sense. Yoko had been so thoughtful, offering to drop me off at my apartment. I wouldn't have made it home otherwise. "Are you okay?" I heard her ask. Her voice was softer and her Japanese accent more pronounced. I tried to nod but it felt like too much effort. Instead, I squeezed my eyes open and smiled weakly. It suddenly struck me again how beautiful she was, but the thing was, this time it felt like there was such a sexual intensity in the gaze she had fixed on me that I could feel the heat between my thighs. Or was that the drink talking? I always got horny while drunk. But those pouting lips looked so ... well, kissable. "They are," she told me. It was only then that I realised I'd spoken the words out loud. Putting my hand to my mouth, I began to laugh uncontrollably. I'd only just gone and told Yoko Kyokota that her lips were kissable, hadn't I? How embarrassing. "I'm zo zorry," I began... God, even my words were slurred. My glance suddenly dropped down into her cleavage—her multicoloured House of Peroni blouse hadn't been unbuttoned that far down in the restaurant bar, had it? I could clearly see her full cleavage as it practically spilled over the top of the lacy black bra. "No, it wasn't," she said, and a flush ran up my neck when I realised I'd been talking out loud again. Her fingertips were making small circles on my skin again, but this time her hand was on my thigh, not my arm. They were edging themselves under the hem of my dress and I must have somehow widened my legs for her. How had that happened? I rested my head back against the seat again and desperately tried to focus, but concentrating was just so difficult. Then Yoko was suddenly so close that I could feel her hot breath on my cheek. "How long is it since you've been with another woman," I heard her whisper. "Too long," I truthfully replied, wondering if I'd spoken out loud again. "Then we'd better do something about that, don't you think?" Her fingers were between my legs now. When they gently brushed against my black thong, I could hear my own breath coming out in panted gasps. "Would you like to kiss me?" she asked, as her lips softly brushed across mine. I didn't need to be asked twice. I might be drunk but I knew this wonderful creature was coming on to me and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity. I turned my head and sought her pouting lips out with my open mouth. The kiss was exactly as I anticipated—hot, wet and demanding. In the darkness behind my closed eyelids, it seemed as if every sense was heightened and my chest began to rise and fall as if I was about to hyperventilate. Her probing fingers had pushed the material of my thong aside and I widened my legs, inviting them in. God, I was so wet, so needy. She used two fingertips to stroke my labia and when they twisted and pushed their way inside, my body shuddered and I let out a long, needy moan. Oh fuck, this was Hiutsu Kyokota's wife ... the former Supermodel ... Madame Yoko ... and she was fucking me with her fingers... "Japanese women are even more experienced than our men," she whispered into my mouth, even as her lips gently sucked on my tongue. I tried to speak but her mouth on my tongue made it impossible. And the fingers inside me were moving with such a deliciously teasing slowness that I was moaning out loud. Again and again. I could hear myself. I couldn't stop moaning and it felt and sounded wonderful. It suddenly occurred to me that the noise would have alerted the chauffeur and a surge of electricity fed its way through my body. Was he watching in his driving mirror, just like the cab driver had done when I'd fucked Nick. I desperately hoped so. I don't know if it was that thought, or the sensation caused by Yoko's experienced fingers, but I was already heading me past the point of no return. Her spare hand tilted my head back and she growled in my ear. "Look at me. Look at me when you cum..." My eyes burst open to find her closely scrutinising every expression on my face. When she was satisfied that I was going to obey her instruction and keep my gaze fixed on hers, she twisted her fingers again. The climax hit me like a freight train, so intense that it seemed to last forever. It felt like years until I began to return to Mother Earth. "Even that first time we met, I knew you'd taste this good," she purred softly, lewdly feeding her juice covered fingers to her mouth. Another little mini-orgasmic tremor ran through me. She'd been thinking of this at the business party? When? At the table? Out on the balcony? She'd wanted me then? The thought made me heady with desire. "That was just the first..." she promised, feeding the last of her wet fingers to my own mouth this time. I began to suck on it like it was a cock. "Good girl," she enthused, stroking my blonde hair with her free hand. "When we reach your apartment, I'm going to teach you things you've never even dreamt about..." --- The sweat was pouring off my naked body as Yoko took me through one orgasm after another. The stunning former Supermodel buzzed her magical tongue around my clit just lightly enough to keep my climaxes stretched out and then added her fingers to the mix to ensure they kept coming. She had been working on me for what felt like hours—making me scream out her name, shriek out my need, and constantly beg her never to stop. But more than anything, despite my previous girl-girl experiences, she was helping me fully appreciate for the very first time how love between two women could be truly raw and yet unbelievably beautiful at the same time. Despite my wild child background, I was just a novice compared to this woman. I thrust my heaving breasts forward as yet another climax rocked through me, with only the top of my head and the curve of my ass touching the mattress. "I love your pussy," she confessed, as I gradually came down from the high. "It's so receptive—as perfect as the rest of you." I smiled at the compliment and let my body relax a little as my perspiring back returned to the sheets. The alcohol-induced fuzziness in my head had long since been replaced with a sheer carnal need so strong that, even had Nick walked in the apartment door at that precise moment, I think I would have ignored him and begged this woman to continue. I never wanted this experience to end. I felt myself purr as Yoko kissed up my flat stomach. The sound increased as she continued upwards, reaching the slopes of my breasts and stopping there to suckle on my oh-so-sensitive nipples before continuing up to my neck. Oh God. I was in heaven. "I can teach you so much," she whispered as she covered every part of my neck with her lapping tongue. "You'd like that, Tiffany?" "Yesss..." It was my voice and it sounded wonderfully dreamy. That incredible tongue was making me mew like a cat. When it left me so that she could reposition her body above my head, straddling my face with her slender thighs, I gasped in delicious anticipation of being able to savour the prize so close to my lips. "And going forward," she continued, gently brushing her labia across the tip of my nose. "I have a future in mind for you that you're going to find adorable, Tiffany. All the sex you could ever wish for, and with it some income that will make you financially viable in your own right. What could be better?" Nothing could be better, I thought, as I curled my hands around her thighs and pulled her sex to my waiting lips ... other than perhaps the luscious taste of her glistening wetness on my tongue. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 03 I wrote this story for Tiffany. Thanks for all your help, Tiff. I hope you're pleased with the outcome. Chapter Three My heart was beating faster with each passing minute and, lingering in front of the huge residence's heavy oak main door, I still couldn't summon up the courage to signal my arrival. Even as I'd walked across the small cobbled courtyard and up the stone steps, the lights on either side had felt like they were leading me towards a decision I still wasn't sure I was ready to make. My hand had risen three times towards the ornamental bell and pulled away again each time. Should it really be this difficult? After all, I'd finally come to terms with my continuing sexual encounters in the massage studio, accepting Yoko's persuasive argument that I wasn't being unfaithful to Nick. I was just the latest of many women indulging in an ancient Japanese tradition designed to keep her fulfilled while her husband buried himself in his work. And I'd never even thought of considering the now regular sex with Yoko—sensational, mind-blowing sex— as cheating. Girl-girl sex was, well, different. But, standing outside the residence of one of Japan's most prominent and highly-regarded politicians, my mind was working overtime to convince my head that I wasn't crossing the 'unfaithful' line. Especially with me dressed the way I was... It was only a couple of days ago, as I was revering from another orgasm under her skilful ministrations, that Yoko had casually mentioned her husband's hugely important contact. A person, she'd said, who had a particular penchant for pale-skinned European women—especially blondes. This 'person' could influence a parliamentary bill that had the potential to earn her husband millions. Money had changed hands to set up the arrangement, she surprised me by confiding, but before the deal could be finalised it was Japanese tradition to honour the individual by providing a gift of his choosing. It appeared that I was to be that gift... It would a huge favour not only to her, she had emphasised, but to her husband also. They would forever be in my debt, and the bond between me and the Kyokota would be strengthened even further. In truth, she hadn't needed to say much more. For me, the decision—as shocking as the request undoubtedly was to me—was straightforward. After all she'd done for me, how could I refuse? And once I'd made that decision; that wicked little voice on my shoulder had taken to whispering in my ear again. Getting fucked by a senior member of Japanese parliament as part-payment for a corrupt business arrangement—how hot was that? All that was left was to find a way of trying to control the guilt that continually sat at the back of my mind whenever I embarked on a new sexual liaison. I'd been fucked by six masseuses now—all different, but all just as hot in their own way—but this was as different again. I tried not to let my little voice use the word 'whore' but I couldn't help but feel it was an accurate description. A married English whore, who used her body for her own sexual gratification. Oh yes, the little voice would gleefully reply. Isn't it wonderful? --- I raised my hand again to press the bell but again I couldn't. My reflection was staring back at me from the dark glass in the side panel and when I turned my head this way and that, the two little pigtails swung through the air. Pigtails! How kinky was that? Almost as kinky as the outfit I was wearing under my thin outer coat, I answered myself. Yoko hadn't mentioned that until the package containing the outfit arrived late yesterday afternoon. Then she'd called me to laughingly explain that the politician had specifically asked for his 'gift' to be dressed this way. "Just go with it," she'd chuckled. "Let your imagination free..." I had gone with it, of course. There wasn't any other choice. And strangely, it had actually helped my mood in one way. Dressed like this, I really could almost pretend to myself that I was someone else, not a happily married woman who was about to cement her unfaithfulness by— No, no, I shouted inwardly. Don't go there. I leant briefly against the side wall by the door to catch my breath. God, I was shaking. Beads of sweat, responsive to my frayed nerves, were prickling the back of my neck. Could I really go through with this? It was the same question I'd asked myself during the several hours I'd spent getting ready this afternoon. Thank goodness Nick was away overnight, although I suspected that Yoko had arranged that, too. I'd taken an extra long time in the shower, trying to drain the tension that had crept into my shoulders. Yet as I'd soaped my body, realizing that another stranger—this one powerful and influential—would possess it before the night was out, the thrill of what was about to happen was unstoppable. I'd had to relieve the growing excitement by instantly making myself cum. Afterwards, sitting infront of my dressing table after finishing a whole bottle of wine and about to apply my make-up, I decided to try something different. Something that would be perfect for the outfit I had to wear, but that would also help me further remove myself from my normal world and pretend I really was someone else. I applied a liquid eyeliner, but only the thinnest of lines to frame my eyes; a lipstick that was a couple of shades darker than my natural lip colour, making it appear as if my lips were a little brighter; before adding a tiny bit of blusher so it made me look like I actually was blushing. Once I completed the task, and then dressed in the outfit that Yoko had provided, I checked myself out in the bedroom mirror. Perfect... If only Nick could see me now. Even just a month ago, his eyes would have lit up and he'd have practically thrown me down on the bed, ready to fuck my brains out. Dear God, where had those days gone? And so quickly, too! Why didn't he want me the same way nowadays? I'd asked myself the same question in the taxi during the long drive here and still couldn't find an answer that satisfied me. But one thing was for sure. If my husband no longer wanted me, there were plenty of Japanese men who did. When I—finally—reached out and actually rang the ornate doorbell, I fervently hoped that the influential politician would be one of them. On an instinct, I quickly slipped my coat off and checked my appearance again in the glass side panel. First impressions were essential in the circumstances, and he was expecting to see a St. Trinian's-lookalike schoolgirl, after all. --- The way his narrowed gaze swept over the whole of my body, and then did so again, more slowly, told me he was impressed. When his appreciate smile confirmed the fact, I felt an unexpected surge of relief flood through me. But it was more than just relief. I was impressed, too. Although he was a little older than I expected, maybe in his mid-fifties, he had a twinkle in his eye that went well with his overgrown flock of grey hair. Michael Heseltine, I instantly thought ... a Japanese version of Michael Heseltine! Oh God, Heseltine might be old enough to be my granddad but with those boyish good looks, posh accent, that air of unconformity, he had been the only English politician that had ever been able to make me cream... Perhaps tonight had just taken a turn for the better? "Tiffany," he said, those eyes twinkling wickedly into mine as he bowed slightly. "You're everything I expected and more. Please, enter..." I couldn't help but check out his ass as he led the way through the hall and into a room to our left. He was dressed the way my favourite English politician might have been, too—in a crisp white shirt and tailored dark trousers—and while he was shorter, perhaps slightly more than five foot, I could tell that he regularly worked out. There was plenty of lean hard muscle beneath his shirt. "Be confident," Yoko had told me as part of her last minute instructions. "He thinks you've done this before so he's expecting a self-assured woman to go along with the schoolgirl look. Quite a combination, don't you think?" An impossible combination, I'd thought, and the point was reinforced as I walked on trembling legs into his highly modernistic home. I glanced around, more in a vain attempt to calm my nerves than from any genuine interest, and decided that any one of the items on display in the locked cabinets dotted around would be worth more than Nick and my total possessions combined. "Let me look at you again," he suavely said, taking my coat from over my arm and casually tossing it over the sofa. I'd left the top two buttons of my Gucci white blouse undone, so that a healthy amount of my bulging cleavage was on display above the black bra. The sleeves were rolled up to my elbows, in traditional St. Trinian's schoolgirl style, just as I'd checked on the internet. The tie was fastened long, but with the fairly big knot pulled down a little to make it look loose, a little tardy. The short, navy blue pencil skirt barely reached the top of my thighs, and the black thigh highs—together with the shiny patent leather Jimmy Choo shoes—were the perfect accompaniment, even if the shoes did have a much higher heel than any school would have allowed. The first time I'd tried on the outfit I'd wondered if it looked absurd on my frame, that someone of my age couldn't really get away with this, could they? But as he walked around me like an animal might circle his prey, his appreciative, almost lustful gaze, told me otherwise. "Perfect," I heard him say, as he stood directly in front of me again. His smile was almost wolfish as his fingers touched my chin and tipped my head upwards. "Tell me, Tiffany, do you know who I am?" "No," I truthfully said, hoping that my answer didn't offend him. Far from it. The way he smiled suggested he was happy with my response. "Good," he softly replied. "For the purposes of tonight, just call me Michael." Michael? I almost creamed there and then. It was fate. Here I was with my very own personal Japanese version of Michael Heseltine. Just the two of us... "And this is my wife, Kumico." Oh fuck! I almost fainted with shock. His wife was there? No way! I tried to disguise my startled reaction as I turned to see a young Japanese woman standing in a doorway on the other side of the room, sipping from what looked like a glass of champagne. I'd never seen a woman dressed in traditional Geisha style, other than on television, and it made me wonder what sort of marriage this was. She was considerably younger than her husband, extremely slender and willowy, and looked absolutely stunning in that beautiful kimono. It occurred to me that she looked like a character who could have been drawn from a picture book. When she began to cross the room towards me, it felt like she was floating rather than walking. "Welcome to our home," she said, in a voice that was even softer than his. "And thank you for taking the trouble to look so lovely. You exceed our expectations." I felt a blush flicker around the base of my neck as I thanked her for the compliment, and then blurting out that she was beautiful too. "Thank you so much," she softly replied, bowing slightly and taking my arm with her free hand. She led me across the room towards a door at the far side that opened into a large, opulent bedroom. Leaving me just inside the room, she floated to a chair near the king-sized bed, gracefully sitting down and crossing her legs in the tight kimono. She tilted her champagne glass my way in acknowledgement and then continued to sip from it without taking her eyes off me. Alarm bells were going off in my head. Yoko had never mentioned there would be two of them. Had she known? No, she wouldn't do that to me. I stood there for a moment, as if paralysed, wondering what to do or say, when I felt Michael's presence behind me. "My wife likes to watch," he simply said, his hot breath on my neck. I hesitated briefly as he slowly moved a pigtail to one side and planted a soft kiss on my neck. Despite my nervousness, the sensation made me gasp. "I take it you've no objection?" Objection? Why should I object? I'd got off on the taxi driver watching in his mirror as I'd put on a show fucking Nick in his cab that night, and had the same reaction at the thought of the chauffeur watching Yoko finger me in the back of her limo. The idea of this beautiful young Geisha-looking woman watching her husband fuck me might be something I hadn't anticipated, but it was a thrill all the same. "No, that's fine," I gasped, as his tongue found my ear. I bent my head backwards, into his shoulder, offering him more flesh. Yoko had told me to come across as confident and that shouldn't be too difficult when I was already as turned-on as this. I'd been in the house less than ten minutes and I was already feeling the need to have him inside me. But the sound of a click upset my equilibrium, followed by a second. My gaze instantly flicked towards Kumico again and I saw that her champagne glass had been replaced by a camera. She took a third shot as my startled eyes stared at her. "For our private collection," Michael whispered in my ear, holding me steady against him in case I tried to pull away. "Our eyes only." That panic that had begun to rise inside me settled as I realised they had more reason to keep the photographs out of the public domain than me. Should this liaison ever be discovered, his political career would be in ruins and, worse still, he would be disgraced. "Why don't you undress for her," he continued, easing his hold on me when he felt me relax against him. "She adores beautiful things just the way I do." I swallowed the lump in my throat as he crossed the room towards his wife and refilled the champagne glass that was beside her feet, before pouring two more glasses on the small table beside her chair. When he turned back to me, he silently repeated his instruction with a single nod of his head and I began to fumble with the tiny white buttons on my Ralph Lauren blouse. My nipples were pushing through the material like organ stops as I nervously worked open each button, trying not to think about the continuing photographs Kumico was taking with her camera. And yet that little voice inside me was talking to me again, telling me how sexy it was to be photographed like this. Work it, it whispered, work it. Yes, I needed to. But how? Slow down, I told myself, and maybe imagine it was Yoko I was undressing for. Yes, that was it. Half-close my eyes and think of Yoko. Instantly, my nervousness began to fade. Releasing the final white button from its hole, I teasingly held the blouse closed for a brief second before pulling each end apart. Thrusting my bra-covered breasts forward, I shrugged it from my shoulders and let it float to the floor. And all the time, I could hear the sound of the camera clicking... The blue pencil skirt went next. Each of my actions were theatrically exaggerated as I undid the button, zip, and then slid it slowly down my thighs before wriggling out of it with a delicious shimmy and kicking it to the side. A touch of nervousness returned as I stood infront of them in just my sheer Lejaby black bra, skimpy thong, thigh-highs and patent leather heels. Had I gone too far with my act? Should I just have quickly stripped and been done with it? I found the answer in Michael's eyes. He was practically drooling. The confidence I was searching for returned in droves. He wanted me. And soon he was going to have me. I wanted that too—now, more than ever. I told myself I would undress like this infront of Nick when his work pressures had eased and our marriage had returned to normal—perhaps to music, even? But even as the thought appeared in my mind, the little voice on my shoulder was telling me that stripping like this infront of two strangers was much sexier than anything I could ever do with my husband... It was true! Slowly, teasingly, I unhooked the front fastener of my bra, keeping the cups in place with my hands as I leant forward so that my cleavage could spill over the top. God, was I really doing this? I could practically hear their combined gasp. Easing the cups away a little, I offered the merest hint of my nipples before suddenly dragging the bra away and letting my breasts bounce free. When Michael licked his lips, my already hard pink nipples hardened even further. The dreamy look on Kumico's face encouraged me too and I realised that I was getting off on this as much as they were. When I self-assuredly eased my thumbs into the waistband of my black thong and slowwwwwly pulled it over the gentle curve of my hips, I felt liberated. Standing in just my thigh highs and heels, I cocked my hip to one side and struck as provocative a pose as I could. Yoko had said 'confident', hadn't she? "Well?" I heard myself cheekily ask. Kumico took more shots with the camera even as she reached out with her free hand to lewdly stroke her husband's groin through his tailored trousers. Even from this distance, I could tell he was rock hard. "You have a beautiful body," she murmured in that delightfully soft Japanese accent. She smiled almost innocently as she ran her hand down the outline of her husband's cock again. "As you can see, you've awoken the monster..." --- Kumico wasn't exaggerating. Up until now, Táchira's cock was the biggest I'd ever had, but Michael was easily his equal. His wife had undressed him as I'd watched, sweetly staring me down while she'd unbuttoned and removed his shirt. My quick initial assessment had been right. He did have an athletic body with well-defined muscles. When she'd loosened his trousers and yanked down his black boxers, I gasped. His humongous cock was already ready for action. "I see you like," Kumico said, smiling at my involuntary reaction. She picked up her glass and tilted it so that the bubbly liquid covered the length of his erection before dripping onto his heavy balls and then down onto the carpet. "Some champagne?" she asked. That beautiful round face no longer looked so innocent. "Why don't you come and get some?" Hypnotically, I did as I was bid, crossing the bedroom towards them. Kumico took hold of my arm, pulling me down to my knees infront of her still-standing husband, her small hand reaching for her camera again. "Well, Tiffany?" the Geisha-looking beauty softly asked, staring me directly in the eyes. "Why don't you show us if a white woman can suck cock equally as well as her Japanese counterpart?" She began to take more shots even before I reached for his hardness and pulled him to my mouth. Who would have thought that a camera could be such an aphrodisiac? Perhaps I would get to see the photographs at some stage? I'd have to ask for Yoko's guidance on that one. I swept my tongue over his champagne-covered cockhead and then dipped my head forward. His cock tickled the back of my throat before I'd taken even half of it in. Kumico was on her feet now, clicking off shots from each side, different angles, as she circled around us. Her actions only drove me on and I suddenly found myself not only pleasuring him, but also performing for her. Placing my hands on either side of his hips to steady myself, this time I took as much of his hardness as I could into my mouth without gagging. The last blow job I'd given was to Nick had been fast and quick in the shower, because he was worried about being late for work. I intended to savour this one. My gaze lifted to up at his face as I quickened my pace, sliding the full length of him in and out of my mouth It curved between my lips—perfect for sucking—and his hands found my pigtails, tugging them in approval as I wantonly covered his hard flesh with saliva and sucked again. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 03 I paused briefly when I unexpectedly felt a hand on my ass, momentarily wondering how he could do that when his hands were in my hair. But the smoothness of the touch soon told me it belonged to no man. Kumico was still taking photographs, but she was intent on getting in on the action, too. I moaned my appreciation, but even as her fingers curled under my body to find my labia, I had no time to enjoy his wife's caressing touch. Michael had wrapped both blonde pigtails like a rope around his wrists and dragged my mouth onto him as he pressed forward, so that I could feel the head of his cock bump against the back of my throat again. My eyes were watering and saliva was dripping from corners of my mouth as he rhythmically drove his hips forward, pushing his cock even deeper. For whatever reason I fleetingly thought of Nick—what we had before in our marriage, and what we were left with now. What would he think if he could see me now? That his wife was a slut who was becoming addicted to Japanese cock? Whose fault was that—mine, for giving in to my urges, or his for ignoring my needs and working too hard? Suddenly I felt dirty and dark and twisted. But there wasn't time to ponder on those thoughts. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to the size and I'd fallen into a rhythm, sliding his huge length in and out of my mouth without gagging. Judging from his grunts, and the way his fingers played in my hair, I was doing a good job. But then there was Kumico to consider, too. Two of the feminine fingers between my thighs had pushed inside me and expertly found my g-spot. She had me on the verge ... so close ...and then I was cumming, almost choking on her husband's manhood as my senses went into overload. Her fingers paced me through the orgasm before she withdrew them,, and before I knew it, I was sprawled back on the carpet, panting hard, while both husband and wife smiled down at me. "Why don't you tell Michael what you want," Kumico said, pushing back a loose strand of her jet black hair. She smiled as she casually shot off a couple more photographs of me in my vulnerable post-orgasmic state. I must have looked such a sight, in my black patent heels, my stockinged legs slightly apart, labia glistening, a sheen of perspiration covering my body as my right hand played with one of my pigtails. My gaze flicked from her to her husband and I knew the raw need in my eyes was there for both of them to see. "Fuck me," I simply said. My voice was no more than a croak. "Please." --- Michael didn't just have a big cock. He knew how to use it. Still lying on their king-sized bed, panting out my need to be fucked yet again, I found myself wondering if all Japanese men as virile as those I'd met so far. The masseuse's—still queuing up to massage and then fuck their English prize—had astonished me with their stamina, but no more so than my fifty-plus year old Japanese politician with the flamboyant 'Tarzan' styled hair. It was damp now from his exertions, just like mine. My blonde hair had grown a little darker now that it was wet, clinging to my perspiring brow. Somewhere during our intense sessions my pigtails had worked free, maybe when he'd ran his fingers through my hair and held my head like he would a bowling ball as he'd taken control, using it as leverage while we'd fucked one another like two rabid animals. Most of the time, Kumico had continued to take photographs, in between sipping her champagne or pouring glassfuls over our entwined bodies just to see what reaction it would provoke. Her deep-red lips had followed the liquid trail on a couple of occasions, seeking out my nipples and then sweeping upwards across my chest, my neck and ... yes ... my mouth. Kissing this young Geisha-looking beauty, while her husband continued to pound inside me, had made me scream out loud as I came. Later, when I was breathlessly gyrating on Michael's huge cock in reverse-cowboy fashion, she had finally put the camera to one side and sat in the nearby chair again. Her eyes had found mine as she'd slowly and meticulously tugged the tight kimono up to her waist. She was naked underneath. Shifting her position slightly, she'd curled her right leg over the arm of the chair as she'd begun to masturbate infront of me. The electricity between our blurry gazes had been intense and the way we'd made love with our eyes was every bit as real as the way I'd undulated on her husband's cock or she'd used the fingers of her right hand to frantically rub against her exposed clit. The sight of her, head thrown back, red lips open wide, made me decide there and then that I had to have her, too, before the night was out. And now my wish was about to become reality... She sat on the opposite end of the bed, naked now, waiting obediently for her husband's permission before we took the inevitable next steps. Her light brown skin colour was a contrast to her whiter face but what had struck me most as she'd undressed was that she had curves where it counted—in her slender hips, in her tapering buttocks, and in her full breasts. Her little brown nipples sat hard and high on their peaks, and her sex, glistening from her arousal, was devoid of a single curl. Michael drained the last of his champagne before approaching the bed, stroking his thick shaft with one hand as he walked. The way it grew in his palm had me licking my lips. That wolfish smile was on his face again as he guided me around in the doggy style position I loved so much, until my face was just a few inches away from his wife's gleaming labia. Her hands reached for my hair as her husband crawled behind me on the bed, his monster bumping against my ass cheeks. I felt a wonderful tremor in my body at the thought of what lay in store—how long was it since I'd taken part in any sort of threesome?—and I had to suck back some saliva as it began to drool from my wet lips. "Now," the beautiful young Geisha softly said to me, "Come taste Kumico..." It was then that the red mists of uncontrollable pleasure began to take over. She placed her hand on my head, stroking my hair as she raised her hips upwards, offering herself to me. Her aroma was intoxicating. I let her guide me to her tight opening and then it was just impossible to hold back, even with her husband feeding his cock into me from behind. My lips, tongue and fingers were all over her—Yoko was a wonderful teacher—and after alternatively working on her clit and labia, it didn't take long for her lips to open up to me. Her flowing juices were every bit as tangy as I expected and I rubbed some of her arousal onto my fingers before slowly pushed them inside her tightness, bringing a moan of pleasure as I stretched her out. "Hai ... Hai..." But it was becoming more difficult to give her the full attention she deserved when Michael's monster was fully inside me now. Oh, God, the friction! He was rocking me forward into his wife's growing wetness with each steady thrust and my body began to involuntarily respond to his movements, my hips rocking back and forth against him and my knees digging deeply into the mattress as he hunched over me to get a better angle. Despite his size, I could feel him push deeper and deeper into me with every thrust and suddenly it was difficult to breathe, let alone give pleasure to his Geisha-wife. She was so beautiful, with that innocent-looking face contorted in pleasure as she humped upwards into my face. I could hear muffled sounds as her thighs squeezed my ears—slurps, squishes, moans, growls, heavy panted breathing—but instead I tried to focus on the aroused clit protruding from the apex of her sex. It was practically throbbing to my touch and when covered it with copious amounts of saliva and tongued it back and forth in my mouth, she suddenly cried out and unexpectedly squirted across my face, sparking off my own powerful orgasm. Holding her legs apart, I went after her juices, lapping and sucking like a dervish in my desperation to bring another gush from her. But Michael had other ideas. He was twisting me onto my back and pushing his thickness back inside me even as he dragged my ankles up and around his neck. I wasn't going to complain. He was the main course, after all. "Fuck me," I told him, stretching my arms upwards so that I could curl my fingers in his unkempt hair. I was so turned on that I could feel my juices running down and glazing my inner thighs. "Never stop fucking me..." --- It was well into the early hours when I'd returned to my apartment and I knew that a bubble bath was just the thing I needed to soothe my tired body. I let out a long drawn out sigh as I lowered myself into the hot water, feeling it burn deliciously and immediately flush my skin. Was there a single part of my body that wasn't sore or aching? Yet it was a delicious ache. For a few moments, I tried to focus on what had happened just as I was leaving the impressive residence, something I could never have expected, something that had turned the whole night upside down. I didn't know what to think and I needed to talk to Yoko, but I couldn't call her at this hour. That conversation would have to wait until tomorrow. Okay, I eventually told myself as I rested my head back against the curved side of the large, round whirlpool tub. Get your thoughts in order. Number one, I still loved Nick. We'd moved to Japan so that we could build a new life together and everything that had happened hadn't changed the way I felt about him, even if it did make me query the way he felt about me. Number two, did he love me or not? Yes, I knew he had to put so much time and effort into his work, but even the little touches were missing in our relationship right now. Why didn't he call every night when he was away? Where were the flowers he used to send? Why didn't he ask me about my day anymore, or take me out on the rare occasions he was at home? Number three—the sex. Yes, I was being unfaithful, even if I did manage to find every excuse under the sun to convince myself otherwise. But when a stranger was pounding inside you, and your legs were curled around his back while you begged him not to stop, there was only one sensible conclusion. Number four, who was to blame for my predicament? On the face of it, I was the guilty one. It was me who was fucking other men behind my husband's back. But it wasn't that simple. Since my late teens, I'd enjoyed daily sex, sometimes twice daily. So had my husband, I'd thought. Nick and I had fucked two or three times a day before we'd relocated to Japan and while his sex drive might have shrunk to close to zero as a result of his work commitments, mine hadn't. So if he wasn't going to give his wife her basic needs, wasn't it logical she would seek them elsewhere? Besides, I hadn't fallen in love with someone else, and nor I was I exactly having an affair behind his back. I just needed ... sex. Number five, my sex sessions with the masseuses had been self-contained and something I felt I could control. Yoko's request for a favour had taken me outside those 'safe' boundaries and, while it had resulted in some of the most sensational sex I'd enjoyed in a long time, I'd thought it had just been that—a 'one off' favour—until... Until Michael had arranged for the taxi to take me home and given me the envelope containing twenty thousand English pounds for 'my services.' Oh my God, he had actually paid me. For my services. He had given me twenty grand—twenty fucking grand—for fucking him and his Geisha wife most of the night. In my book, that made me a prostitute. Didn't it? An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 04 I wrote this story for Tiffany. Thanks for all your help, Tiff. I hope you're pleased with the outcome. Chapter Four It was four days since I'd spent that unforgettable, uninhibited evening with Michael and Kumico. Those had been the longest, most frustrating days of my life. All I'd wanted to do was meet up with Yoko and talk to my best friend about the concerns that had been pounding around in my head ever since. But it transpired she'd accompanied her husband Hiutsu on a rapidly arranged trade visit to China and instead I'd had to try and remain patient until her return. That wasn't the only source of irritation. Nick was away somewhere—I no longer bothered to keep track of his movements—and it turned out that my (much needed) weekly masseuse appointments had been cancelled. I had no idea why, but I'd been left with no alternative other than to satisfy the burning need inside me by watching more Japanese porn. My favourite vibe had been in use so often it was a wonder there were any batteries left. But it was no substitute for the real thing... In an attempt to ease the frustrations, and boredom, I'd taken the bold step (for me) this afternoon of venturing alone into the Ginza—Tokyo's most famous upmarket entertainment district. I'd shopped there on a couple of occasions with Yoko and the numerous department stores, boutiques, art galleries, restaurants, night clubs and cafes made it a wonderful attraction for anyone with money to spend. And despite my reservations about accepting the payment, the small sum of twenty thousand pounds was burning a hole in my purse. After a couple of hours shopping—mainly purchasing expensive lingerie and the skimpiest red bikini imaginable—I'd given in to a whim and found myself in a small bar slightly off the beaten track, enjoying a martini. Why not? The alternative was to head back to the loneliness of my apartment, whereas this way I could give vent to some of my frustrations by teasing every man in there. I knew from my pre-Nick days that a 'single' woman could draw all the attention she wanted just by simply casually playing with her hair, glancing around casually while fanning her face, or crossing and uncrossing her legs while enjoying a drink. I'd chosen my outfit carefully before leaving my apartment and it left little to the imagination. The short black skirt worked its way up my thighs whenever I adjusted position and my Comme Des Garcons black tricot blouse, while not exposing an inch of cleavage, was moulded to my breasts in an undeniably sexy way. And yet, despite the multitude of sly looks I'd experienced over the last half an hour, not a single guy had plucked up the nerve to approach me. Not that I was here for that reason, of course. I was simply filling in time by acting like the cock-tease I used to be, and when that pushed my adrenaline over the top I could take good care of myself once I returned to the apartment. Still ... I could feel myself grow hornier with every glance, so much so that if someone had approached me, they wouldn't even have needed an impressive pick-up line. "Fancy a fuck, darling," would do. That was one of the problems with your typical Japanese man, I complained inwardly. It wasn't so much shyness, but more that they were invariably so polite—especially in an upmarket district such as the Ginza. Eventually, just as I decided that enough was enough and it was time to leave, the dark-haired barman made his way across to me. A girl could always rely on the guy behind the bar when all else failed. He wasn't Japanese, more like a Latin looking Antonio Banderas in his prime, and I momentarily felt like one of my favourite movie actors was looming infront of me—one who didn't try to hide the way his gaze covered my tits as he approached. "I hope you'll accept this," he said, handing me another martini. "On the house..." He gave me a lop-sided smile as he nodded around the bar area. It was much busier now than when I'd entered. "I reckon the longer I can keep you here, the busier we're going to be." I smiled at the compliment and rewarded him by shifting position, allowing him a better view of my dark stocking tops. "That's very kind of you," I answered, inclined my head graciously. "But I'm sure people aren't here because of me." "A hot blonde British woman..." he simply said. "Oh, I think we both know every man in here has his eyes trained on this table." That's a good start, I happily told myself. In my present state of arousal it was nice to have someone, anyone, call me hot. I stared into those deep brown eyes as I flirtatiously played with a loose strand of blonde hair. "I'm not sure I should have another martini," I responded, changing the subject. "Drink always goes to my head." That confident, well-rehearsed smile appeared on his lips again "Don't worry, my job is to take care of my customers," he softly added, leaning closer. "I can always tell when someone needs just a little more." I wickedly crossed my legs again and this time the short, black skirt rode further up my thigh, revealing a sliver of naked skin above my black stockings. His eyes followed the movement before finding my gaze again. "And what do you do when they need a little more?" I challenged, my pulse quickening a bit at the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes. "I give them what they want, of course," he soothingly smiled. "That's what all good bartenders should do. Take care of their customers." I laughed heartily, maybe a little louder than I should, and then took a sip of the martini he'd brought me to regain my composure. My body was feeling aroused and overheated, and I loved the erotic sensation. How long had it been since I'd flirted with another guy, both of us knowing how the evening would end? But this time it was different. It was late afternoon, and I was married. "Take care of me?" I eventually responded, deciding that the need inside me wasn't going to wait much longer. "How do I know can I trust you?" "I didn't know you wanted to," he returned, with a presumptuous smile. His dark, penetrating eyes could read every thought behind mine and it was at that precise moment that I knew I was going to fuck him. "I don't," I suddenly agreed, signalling my intentions by downing the rest of the martini in one gulp and then gracefully rising to my feet. "Good," he huskily said. "This way..." --- His cock was long yet slender, a thing of beauty. When I stretched my fingers around the base and instantly took him into my mouth, he gasped out loud. "Someone's gagging for it..." He was right. Four days without sex was way too long. I'd unzipped him as soon as we'd entered the small office, pushing him down in the circular chair and dragging out his thickness. There wasn't any point in playing any more games. We both knew he had what I wanted. His fingers found my head, gathering strand after strand of my golden-blonde hair around his fingers as I licked my way along the full length of his shaft. The wonderful contrast appealed to me. A few days ago I was making love to one of Japan's most influential politician's in his home, and had been given twenty thousand pounds for the privilege. Now I was giving a freebie blowjob to a barman in a back room where, presumably, anyone could walk in. While a degree of guilt had always accompanied my sexual liaisons to date, this time Nick only entered my mind for a nano second before I brushed the thought away. Sex was becoming like eating and breathing to me and I told myself that if my husband didn't supply it, I had to look elsewhere. He gripped my blonde locks more tightly as I went through my full repertoire, spitting on his throbbing manliness and rubbing the slippery saliva in with both hands. I'd seen it done in one of the Japanese porn flicks I'd watched. When he groaned, I did it again, my large eyes angled up, watching his face, watching his reaction, wanting his approval. When I had him fully coated in my spit, I took him into my mouth again, continuing to corkscrew him with both hands. When I eased him into the back of my throat and slid one hand downwards to cradle his balls, he groaned out loud. The groan turned into a growl when I tugged them gently. It felt like I already had him close and I backed off instantly, dragging my damp thong down my legs as I straddled him. I wasn't here simply to give him a blow job... --- "God ... yeah ... like that," I gasped, pounding down on his lap. I adored the reverse cowgirl position, especially as I could just about make out my reflection in the dark-glass window of the office. Encouraged by the sight, I began to gyrate in circles, loving the sexy picture reflecting back at me. Lying back against his chest, my expensive blouse and bra were pulled up to my neck, and my Latino barman was fondling my gleaming tits as I rotated on him. It occurred to me that I didn't even know his name... A small, bronze filing cabinet sat to our right. Together with the chair and small desk, it was all that the tiny room could accommodate. I began to groan and growl as his hands tweaked my nipples, loud enough to attract attention should anyone be in the vicinity. I found myself wishing there was. I could easily take on two of them right now. Narrowing my eyes for a better view in the glass, I decided there was nothing quite as arousing as watching myself being fucked. I'd have to mention that to Yoko and see what her vivid imagination could come up with. I began to move faster, like a lap dancer, my eyes glued on the reflection. Even the women I'd watched in the porn movies didn't look this sexy. I rotated my hips in tight little circles in his lap, my hands covering his, encouraging him to mash my breasts harder. When he began to groan, I swung my perspiring head around to look back at him over my shoulder. "Don't dare cum," I rasped, staring him right in the eyes. "No yet." When he nodded, I leant forward and eased my ass upwards before slamming it back down on him again. "Fuck..." he gasped. He cursed again as I repeated the manoeuvre. Again ... and then once more. I was a teasing bitch, I knew, but I wanted to take him to the very edge before letting him explode inside my mouth. His hands redirected to my hips to steady himself under the onslaught and I took advantage by clutching my heaving tits, pulling on my long nipples and showing them to my refection in the mirror. It was like I was watching myself in my own porn movie. Arching my back, I changed pace again, moving from my slamming downward thrusts to circular rotations again. "You like that?" I couldn't help but teasingly ask. He nodded, but I could tell by the way he was squeezing his eyes shut that he wasn't going to last much longer. Raising my hands to my hair, I pulled it high on to the top of my head and held it there, thrusting my tits out as I jammed back down on him. We were both grunting hard now and the feeling of his long dick as it burrowed as deep inside me as it could possibly go was sublime. I flexed my legs, digging my feet into the linoleum as I began to go for broke. There wasn't going to be any holding back now. I could see my breasts bouncing erotically with each downwards thrust and my blonde hair was sweeping across his face. The sight drove me on and, arching my back, I pushed my shoulders back against him as I pounded down. His breathing was laboured now. "Gonna cum?" my vibrating voice gasped as I glanced over my shoulder again. His face was creased into that familiar man-look as he attempted to stave off the inevitable. There wasn't a chance. "Gnh ... I'm there—" he gasped. I surprised even myself with the speed I was able to swing around and drop to my knees. Just in time to cover his cockhead with my mouth as he detonated. My sex twitched with the first blast of cum and then my slick muscles tightened each time I sucked out another burst. His hips jerked with each successive explosion and it seemed like he couldn't stop, not in my sexy mouth. I groaned out my approval even as I swallowed every drop, and when I dropped a hand between my legs and began to rub myself furiously, I came almost immediately. YOKO'S RETURN The sun beat down on us as I stretched out on one of the loungers next to Yoko beside her outdoor heated swimming pool. The skimpy red bikini I'd bought during my recent shopping trip was perfect for the occasion. I'd just finished telling her the full details of everything that had happened since we'd last met—my evening with Michael and Kumico, Nick's continuing absence and his laissez faire attitude to sex on the rare occasions I did see him, my visit to Ginza and the way it had ended in the back office of the bar. Her dismissive reaction wasn't I'd expected. "A barman ... In a back office..." she calmly chastised, with a clear hint of derision in her voice. "Oh, no, Tiffany, what were you thinking? Such things are definitely off limits. How could you?" Because I needed a good fuck, I tetchily thought, as I shielded my eyes and stared at her. If the massage sessions hadn't been cancelled, I wouldn't have needed to go looking for it. But I hadn't broached that point yet. Her expensive cream coloured designer bikini, with its delicate gold lace-work on the straps, looked graceful with her matching gold waist chain. And like the stylish ex-Supermodel she was, her sunglasses dwarfed her pretty face. She thoughtfully took a sip of her mimosa before continuing. "Random sex is okay," she told me, waving an arm in the air. "And as time goes on you'll have as much sex as you could ever want, but with the rich and influential, not a scruffy barman. Right now, I'm creating a wonderful opportunity for you and it's important that nothing gets in the way of that." Wonderful opportunity? What was she talking about? "I don't understand..." "I know you don't," she cut me off, with a disarming smile. "My intention was to explain everything to you immediately after your successful evening with Michael, but then this last minute delegation in China was arranged. They're such a nuisance, even if they do help us make some valuable contacts." I sipped at my drink in silence for a few moments, waiting for her to say more. Experience had told me that Yoko revealed everything in her own good time and it was disrespectful to probe for more information until she was ready. Despite the shades, I could tell that she was studying my reaction during the momentary pause and I nervously looked away into the bright blue pool water, waiting for her to continue. When she did, her voice was warmer. "The last woman I took under my wing was Spanish," she suddenly explained. "Dolores was as equally as stunning as you in her own way—curvy and voluptuous—and very popular with those I introduced her to. She could have had it all, except that she had no control. The first rule of the escort profession is discreetness and Dolores was anything but." My heart trembled at her words. Escort profession? Was she being serious? Was that what she had in mind for me? No way! "You see," she went on, dropping her shades onto the bridge of her nose so that she could stare directly into my eyes, "Dolores was seduced by the cash and the lifestyle, and got involved with the wrong people. She thought it was okay to fuck anything that moved, like barmen, for example..." She paused to let the message sink home, and took another graceful sip of her mimosa before continuing. "Yes, the people I deal with want the women I supply them with to behave like whores, but that's in their bedroom and not in public, or with other people. They have a reputation to protect, after all. That left me with no choice other than to ditch Dolores and for Hiutsu to fire her husband. As far as I'm aware, they're divorced now and she's desperately trying to get into the Spanish porn business. Not exactly as lucrative or as fulfilling as to what I was offering..." I felt my blood chill, despite the heat from the overhead sun. Had she befriended me for this reason and this reason only—to work for her and her husband as an escort? And yet the thought was as compelling as it was repulsive. "But there's more to this than you realise," she suddenly said, sitting up on the lounger and facing me directly. "So let me fill in the gaps. My husband's business interests are expanding across the continent and not just in Japan. In our society, if you want to progress as rapidly as we are, it is important to cultivate relationships with powerful men who have the ability to—let's say—influence business decisions our way. The best way to achieve that is to offer an inducement ... as with the person you know as Michael..." My shocked eyes doubled in size and the blush that suddenly appeared on my face deepened in colour at an alarming rate. I was Michael's inducement!?! "But he paid me," I blurted, thinking out loud. "You were his gift for the evening," Yoko casually explained. "Offering you a payment was the traditional Japanese way of telling you how pleased he was with your services. These are very wealthy men, after all. But not only that..." There was that pause again, keeping me on edge. It felt like my heart was about to burst. "By completing the favour I asked of you," she continued, her gleaming eyes telling me my liaison with Michael and Kumico had been an even bigger deal than I had thought, "you honoured both me and my husband. In Japan, honour is everything, Tiffany, and in return Hiutsu has sanctioned my wish to add you to our exclusive team of escort girls. Your financial future is guaranteed." I didn't speak, I couldn't speak. Me? An escort? Such a thing wasn't possible. I was married for a start... "Hear me out," Yoko continued, sensing my indecision. "Our women are in great demand, Tiffany. The more successful they are, the more pressure my husband can exert in his business dealings. For that reason we pay them a healthy monthly retainer way in excess of what your husband earns, for example. Then there are the additional 'one-off' payments from your satisfied clients. A successful escort travels the world. She lives a jet set lifestyle and in addition to earning more money than she's ever dreamed about, she has sex with whomever she wants, whenever she wants." I tried to breathe calmly but I was burning up. This was 'little old me' she was talking to, offering me a 'wonderful opportunity' and yet one that took me well outside of my comfort zone. She was asking me to change my life ... how could I? ... and yet, it was undeniable that my life had already begun to change in so many ways since Nick and I had relocated to Japan. Nick! My husband! "But I'm married," I pathetically said, the instant I thought of him. "Ah, so you are," she said, giving a soft chuckle. "Please understand that being married won't affect your duties at all, although they may make life a little complicated from time to time. But from what you've told me, Tiffany, your husband's attitude has been causing you nothing but dissatisfaction for a short time now, yes? Should he continue in the same vein, then at some stage you may find you have a decision to make regarding your marriage? But that will be entirely up to you, and only you will know when the time is right." My heart was beating so fast I thought I was about to hyperventilate. Whilst I hated her words, I realised she wasn't saying anything I hadn't started to think during the last week. The thought of losing Nick was horrible to face up to, and yet he and I were moving further and further apart. We seemed to want different things nowadays. "The point is," Yoko continued, bringing matters to a head. "Beautiful blonde European women are a prize worth having in my country, especially when they are as sexually uninhibited, not to mention as insatiable as you, Tiffany..." An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 04 Her hands slid to the tie at the right side of her bikini bottom as she spoke, sensuously tugging it free before repeating the action on her left. Languidly lying back in her lounger, she pulled the material away, holding it up and then theatrically dropping it over her shoulder. Setting one foot up next to her and dangling her other leg over the side of the lounger, I could see that her toenails were painted pink, like the glistening petals of her neatly shaven sex. "The question is," she sexily breathed, curling both hands behind her neck as she spread her shapely legs even further and lewdly opened herself up to my admiring gaze. "Do you want what's on offer..." --- We'd long since moved into Yoko's bedroom and she was letting out long mewing sounds as I pleasured her sensitive clitoris with my eager tongue. When she raised her head to look down at me, she found my eyes already staring upwards into hers, savouring each of her responses. This persuasive woman had taught me quite a few tricks of the trade and even though I knew in my heart that I could never become an escort—not until I truly believed that my marriage to Nick was finally over—that didn't undermine my need to show her what a good pupil I'd been. I used my tongue in slow, deliberately long, circular licking motions as our gazes locked on one another. Her small fingers were curled in my blonde hair, and she was whispering down to me in Japanese. She knew the effect that always had on me. I couldn't speak her language and therefore had no way of knowing what she was telling me, and yet at the same time the temperature in my overheated body was like a furnace as my imagination worked overtime on the sluttish things she was undoubtedly telling me. That's what I was ... her slut... She let me pleasure her and yet, every so often, her hips rose and she rotated her wet sex across my pleasuring lips and tongue. I was in sexual heaven. When she lifted one of her legs over my shoulder, I dove deeper, deciding it was time to increase the pace. Her back arched higher and her body began to tremble as she spoke more loudly to me, telling me that she was close. I dropped my hands to her still tight asscheeks, firmly holding her in place as she ground across my juice covered face. This was the moment I enjoyed the most—her noisy climax—and as she finally gave in to her orgasm I sucked up her tangy juices with a series of loud slurps. "Mmmm, tastes good," I murmured, waiting until her trembling body had settled before slithering upwards. Yoko grinned salaciously at me as she gripped my damp hair and pulled me in for a passionate kiss. She seemed to instinctively know at any given moment what I was feeling and even as our lips met, her hands were dancing across my tits—cupping them, squeezing them, caressing them. She held my lust-fuelled eyes as she toyed with me, teasing my erect nipples from side to side. I let out a throaty growl as she dropped her head and swirled her tongue across each hard bud. "Oh my God..." I gasped as the pressure built between my legs. My clit was practically standing up and begging for attention. "Tell Yoko what you want," she teased, suckling harder on my aching nipples. "Please," I moaned, twisting my body on the bed. "Please..." She smiled into my eyes as she whirled downwards, lapping along my labia with exaggerated slowness, before her tongue found my waiting clit. However much I'd learned, this woman was the sublime artist. Her repertoire was endless. Pulling my legs upwards, her tongue did a long, slow lap, from my clit to my ass, and then back again. My body jerked in shock. "Oh, God. OhfuckohGod..." She retraced her steps, digging her tongue a little harder into my sensitive flesh this time. I tried to tell her how amazingly-fuckingly good that was but my words were barely intelligible, more like a gurgle of lustful passion from the back of my throat. Both of my hands were in her dark hair now, gripping tightly. My sweaty body undulated, pushing up into her magical mouth. When her finger rimmed my anus and then slipped inside, knuckle deep, I came with a howl, pouring my juices into her lapping, licking, sucking mouth. When she wriggled the finger and sucked harder on my engorged clit, I came again, my howl deepening as if there was a full moon. And the best thing was that we had the whole of the afternoon ahead of us... --- I tossed and turned for the umpteenth time. Usually I slept well after sex with Yoko but despite the tiredness in my body, sleep just wouldn't come easily. My mind was on Nick and I desperately needed the comfort of his arms around me, holding me close. Even in his continuing absence, I had an overwhelming urge to call him, just to hear his voice. But how could I? I didn't even know which hotel he was staying in. And what would I say? That Yoko wanted me to become an escort, to fuck other men to further her husband's business interests? Ask Nick what he thought? My thoughts transferred between the two of them in a trice and, yet again, I found myself thinking of Yoko. Yes, she turned me on so much and yes, she was the most wonderful lover I'd ever experienced, but it was much more than sex with this woman. She had become my spiritual guide and mentor and shown time and again how attuned she was to my thoughts and feelings. She'd told me that becoming an escort would give me everything I'd ever really wanted—a wonderful lifestyle, more money than I'd ever dreamed about and regular sex with a variety of wealthy, powerful and influential men. Why did that last thought turn me on so much? I gave an almost hysterical laugh and, even though I was alone, buried my head into the pillow to drown out the noise. I'd rediscovered in the last few weeks just how much I enjoyed sex with a variety of different partners. It had just been like I was single again. Except that, I wasn't... I might have fucked around a lot when I was single, but those days were gone. Being a married woman brought responsibilities, even if I was struggling to understand what was happening between Nick and me. Why didn't he spend more time with me? Why didn't he call me when he was away on business? Why didn't he send me flowers anymore? Why was he so tired when we were together? Why was he drinking so much when he was at home? On a couple of nights, he'd been practically drunk before bedtime. And worse, why wasn't sex a big deal any longer? But most of all, why ... why ... why ... why didn't he love me anymore? And if he didn't, was it time to get away. Should I accept Yoko's offer and create a new life for myself? What was the alternative—heading back to England with my tail between my legs? Yoko had told me that the average Japanese man loved blonde European women, so what was to stop me from staying out here and take advantage of that fact? The decision would be easier to make when I had a heart-to-heart with Nick. If nothing else, a serious conversation about our life together was long overdue. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 05 I wrote this story for Tiffany. Thanks for all your help, Tiff. I hope you're pleased with the outcome. Chapter Five Yoko's telephone call this afternoon had come as a surprise. So did her invitation to tonight's dinner. There was a purpose behind the sudden arrangement, she'd said, something to do with an important client who had unexpectedly arrived in Tokyo with his wife. She and Hiutsu would be entertaining them, but for whatever reason she wanted Nick and I there, too. It was slightly inconvenient, insofar as Nick was only just returning from three days work in Sapporo, and I'd planned our heart-to-heart discussion tonight. Whilst I wasn't exactly proud of what I'd got up to since we'd relocated to Japan, what could he expect when he'd practically abandoned me while he'd concentrated on his job? I wasn't about to give him an ultimatum, but I did need to clear the air. And, dependent on his reaction, I knew I'd be left with a serious decision to make about my future. Now, that discussion would have to wait for another day. I hadn't even been able to talk to him before the dinner. He was returning from Sapporo on the same flight as Yoko's husband and he and Hiutsu would head straight to the restaurant from the airport. She had also told me that we could be spending more time with them after dinner, depending on how the evening went. The client and his Brazilian wife liked to party until the early hours, apparently. That meant I shouldn't observe normal dress convention. She wanted me in something sexy and sensual. As usual, I'd followed her instructions to the letter without asking any questions. If she wanted to explain, then she'd do so when it suited her. It had taken me ages to decide on something suitable and eventually I'd settled on a cream-coloured Versace dress that hung loosely from its high, haltered neck, but swept low and backless from behind. Not only that, it practically moulded to my asscheeks as it gathered in an uneven and short hem. She wanted sexy and sensual. This was it. I'd even pulled my blonde hair up into a fancy twist to give my appearance more impact and if I had a problem, it was the way either of my breasts suddenly peaked out around the loose front if I turned quickly. I'd have to watch that! The Aronia de Takazawa bijou restaurant was intimate to say the least, sitting only a maximum of eight people. That meant it was exclusively booked for the six of us in Yoko and Hiutsu's dinner party. Whoever the client was, he was clearly very important to them. Yoko took me to one side when I arrived ahead of the others. I felt almost embarrassed when she gushed approvingly over my choice of dress, but even at my sexiest I couldn't compare to her. Her red satin slip number skimmed her delicious curves in a way that screamed both chic and expensive and she wore it with her usual sophistication. She told me that Hiutsu was hoping to do some important business with the client that would net both parties a substantial figure. The client—Orochi, and his wife Luciana—were 'unconventional' in their tastes, she explained, and it was important to her that she had another set of eyes and ears during dinner. Someone she could trust implicitly. That, evidently, was me. It wasn't lost on me that Yoko had bestowed a great honour on me by choosing me for such a task, and to say I was extremely nervous was an understatement. My relationship with Nick was becoming strained, to say the least, and that didn't seem to be the best background to ensuring a successful evening. Nevertheless, her confidence in me gave me strength. All I had to do was make sure that Orochi and his wife had a wonderful evening. It couldn't be that difficult, could it? That was the thought that stayed with me until Nick entered the restaurant. The state he was in should have shocked me, but didn't. Drinking was a regular thing with him now, and it was clear to see that if he hadn't already exceeded his limit, he was close to it. How that could have happened when he'd accompanied Hiutsu on the return flight was a mystery to me, but I wasn't in any position to ask. He'd kissed me (on the cheek!) as soon as he'd arrived, and then headed off to get himself another drink. I'd sent a warning glance in Yoko's direction but her returned smile told me she had everything under control. I only wished I had her confidence. --- Thankfully, the dinner passed without incident. The round table had been conducive to a successful flow of conversation and by seating me on Orochi's right, and Nick three seats away on Luciana's left, Yoko had ensured there I could entertain her Japanese guest without fear of distraction. Occasionally she would send an approving glance my way, as did Hiutsu, I noticed. Was it just my imagination, or could I tell from the way his grey eyes smiled across the table that there wasn't a single thing I'd done that he didn't know. But it was a warm smile, too. One that gave me confidence. When Orochi and his wife had arrived, I hadn't known which of them to stare at first. Luciana had a beauty that rivalled Penelope Cruz. Her long black hair bounced on her dark-tanned shoulders, her brown-greenish eyes flashed with mischief and her sensuous, curvaceous body was fit for Playboy. No wonder Yoko had been quite so specific as to what I should wear. Those fabulous tits were practically bursting out of her black slinky halter dress. Orochi was younger than I expected, quite tall, with broad shoulders and a thick upper body. His frosted blonde hair, with the dark highlights, and week-old growth of facial hair was just the sort of look I used to go for when I was single. He was full of confidence, too—another other thing I'd always found attractive in a man—and the way his gaze unashamedly wandered over my body despite his wife's presence had made me shiver. The attention he paid me over dinner actually shocked me. At first, everyone was involved in the small talk, but gradually he began to chat more and more to me, flattering me by constantly asking me questions about myself while his wife Luciana contented herself by chatting to Nick. Yoko and Hiutsu, it seemed, were simply there to preside over events. Not that my husband was objecting to Luciana's attention. Every time I glanced in his direction he seemed to be leering at her and—while it was easy to imagine any man falling for such beauty—I'd found myself wishing he would stop drinking so much. He was a happy drunk, as well as a horny one, but that was the last type of behaviour Hiutsu would want infront of his special guests. And yet Yoko seemed to be taking it all in her stride, ignoring Nick's behaviour and smiling encouragingly at me again as Orochi engaged me in conversation. Surprisingly, he was very easy to talk to. He even turned his chair towards mine once the dinner was concluded, as if there was no-one else in the room but us. Despite my initial reservations, I was flattered at the interest he was paying me—what girl wouldn't be?—especially as those cute dimples made him as handsome as he was charming. I found myself thinking that in other circumstances the evening could have ended differently, but just as quickly pushed away the illicit thought. As usual when I was feeling aroused, my imagination was starting to run away with itself. If Nick was up to it, I'd need to take out my sexual frustrations on him as soon as we reached home. "I've done nothing but talk about myself," I eventually told Orochi, pushing away an errant strand of hair from over my right eye. Apart from the more intimate details of my life, and my current issues, there wasn't much about me that he didn't know. "Meeting someone new is always a pleasure," he smiled, "Especially someone with qualities like yours." Qualities? What qualities? I was just me, wasn't I? But I knew better than to turn down a compliment. "Thank you," I answered as calmly as I could, studying his face as he refilled our glasses with champagne to make sure he wasn't teasing me with his words. I should have refused another drink—it wasn't just Nick who was exceeding his normal limit. How many glasses had I consumed?—but it would have seemed churlish and I didn't want to offend him. "But tell me about you," I asked, trying to move the conversation back to neutral territory. What man didn't enjoy talking about himself? He raised his flute to me and we clinked glasses—again—as he casually sat back and dropped one arm over the back of his chair. "I was educated in your country," he began, "At Oxford. After I graduated I travelled the world, searching for the secret treasure in every culture. Let me tell you, Tiffany, I have held emeralds the size of my fist, and I have admired an unpublished Botticelli painting by candlelight, but neither of those things compare to the grace and beauty sitting beside me tonight." I almost choked on my drink. Dammit, he was coming on to me? With his wife sitting next to him and my husband a further seat away? I didn't have a clue how to react, except to tilt my head to one side and stare at him through my gooey eyes as he began to tell me about his adventures. For someone so young, he'd travelled to more countries than I could count and had a fascinating story for each. He'd met his wife two years ago whilst visiting Brazil and discovered that they were 'kindred souls'. They'd been married within six months and were perfectly matched, he explained. But it was his occupation that threw me. Shooting me that mesmeric smile, he described himself as a 'rich playboy'. "I see you are not impressed with the description," he observed as I hesitated. "My wife thinks of it as a wonderful profession." "It's a profession, is it?" I asked, putting a smile into my voice so that he didn't think I was being too impertinent. But the response made him chuckle out loud. "Good point, Tiffany," he agreed, "well, let me see..." He finished his drink while he pretended to think and then refilled his glass before topping up mine again. "I do enjoy a playboy lifestyle, I won't deny that. Luciana and I have a private jet, a couple of yachts and a number of houses in different exotic locations. But that wealth comes from my own entrepreneurial activities, Tiffany. I wasn't born into money, I'm a self-made man and I continue to expand my wealth. That's why Hiutsu and I are working together right now. We have the same aim and can help one another. But now that I'm married, work does not obsess me the way it did. Luciana and I do like to enjoy a little fun along the way." If only Nick took the same approach, I found myself thinking... I'd never particularly thought of myself as a material girl, but he and his wife had a private jet, yachts and several houses across the world? They were the trappings of wealth and power, and I'd always adored powerful men... I began to wonder whether Yoko had deliberately paired me off with him. It was an absurd thought, with Luciana sitting next to him, but could this be her way of illustrating some of the benefits that came with working as an escort for her? Meeting influential men like Orochi? "In the circumstances, I guess a little fun along the way is allowed," I agreed, looking past him at Nick. He was laughing outrageously at something Luciana had said and I could see that his hand had settled on her tanned thigh. What the fuck was he playing at? When he'd had too much to drink, his libido always came to the fore, but on this occasion he was going to offend everyone here if he wasn't careful. "I'm sorry," I stammered, as Orochi followed my gaze. "My husband has had way too much alcohol tonight and he can make a fool of himself in this state. Perhaps I should get him out of here and—" His hearty laugh stopped me in my tracks. "There's no need to apologize, Tiffany," he chuckled, dropping his hand onto mine. For some reason it felt an incredibly intimate gesture. "Luciana is a flamboyant Brazilian woman and as such she is more than capable of looking after herself. And, besides, we've always enjoyed what you Westerners call an open marriage. We're very much in love but that also means that she does her own thing when she wants, and so do I." I stared at him and he laughed again at the look of disbelief on my face. "Surprised?" he asked. "And yet you look like the type of woman who could never be satisfied with just one man. Am I wrong?" His frankness shocked me, as did his perceptiveness, and I tried to look anywhere other than into his eyes. Could he tell that just by looking at me? Or had Yoko said something? No, she wouldn't. Would she? My gaze tried to find hers again, to tell her to rescue me from this confusing situation, but she was talking in hushed tones to Hiutsu and seemed oblivious to my needs. "I've embarrassed you?" he suddenly asked. I gave careful thought to my answer. "I've really enjoyed your company, Orochi," I honestly told him, "and the truth is I'm not sure how to answer your question. But I would hate to give you the wrong idea or lead you on. I'm here with my husband tonight and..." I tailed off, suddenly unsure of myself, not knowing how to continue. His response was to reach for my hand again and squeeze it gently. "I admire your candour, Tiffany," he softly told me, smiling into my confused eyes. "I'm used to women throwing themselves at me, even when I'm with Luciana, and it's refreshing to meet someone as reserved as you." As reserved as me? I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. If only he knew... "But there is a connection between us, yes?" he continued. "You feel it as well as I do?" "I'm married," I stuttered, my voice full of uncertainty. "You put me in a difficult position, Orochi and—" His soft laugh interrupted me. "One of the things I've learned in life is that the eyes never lie, Tiffany," he told me. "Yours tell me that you're wondering what it would be like to fuck me, just as mine tell you how inevitable that is. The only question is where and when." We stared silently at one another for a few seconds as his words resonated in my brain. I hated arrogance and yet his confidence only made me want him more. But I couldn't. Not until Nick and I had sorted things out between us. "I've really enjoyed our conversation, Orochi," I managed to calmly say, despite the beating inside my heart. "But I think I need the bathroom now." I knew it was a cop out, but what else could I do? --- Alone in the restroom, I hurried over to the sink and placed my palms face down on the cool counter. My heart was palpitating. I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing the need in my eyes staring back. Was I really such a slut? Wanting Orochi so much, even though my husband was at the table? My mind began to drift to the sexual experiences I'd enjoyed in recent times—sex with several different masseuses at Yoko's club; with Michael, the Japanese politician with the flamboyant 'Tarzan' styled hair, and Kumico his wife; with Yoko herself, and with the anonymous barman in the Ginza. Yes, I was a slut all right! And this slut was burning with the need to let a rich Japanese playboy fuck her despite the close proximity of her husband. I began to dab water on my face, starting to pull myself together, when I heard the restroom door open and close. Glancing into the mirror, I was surprised to see that Luciana had entered the room. She stood with her back to the door, arms folded across her fabulous breasts, just staring at me. My heart began to beat faster as I stared at her reflection. Had I ever seen a more sensuous looking woman? She was the atypical Latin American beauty—dark hair, tanned skin, flashing eyes and a voluptuous body to die for. But it wasn't just her stunning looks that had me on edge. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that she'd followed me in here for a reason. Had she watched me with her husband? Did she know what was happening between us? Was she angry? Had she come in here to confront me? But then the smile that creased her red pouting lips instantly removed any uncertainty. "It's okay, you know," she reassuringly said, as I slowly stood up and turned towards her. Her Brazilian accent was as sexy as it was cute and her brown-green eyes smiled mischievously as she sauntered across the room and stopped just short of me. I felt so weak at the knees that I rested my hands on the counter behind me, holding me up as I stared mesmerised into that beautiful face. If she sensed my nervousness, she didn't show it. Her full lips parted slightly as she raised a hand to my face and caressed my cheek with her fingertips. "You can fuck Orochi. I really don't mind." I looked at her hesitantly, unsure of how to respond. Was she being sarcastic? No, I didn't think so. If anything, the playful look in her eyes told me she was being deadly serious and a series of goosebumps broke out across my skin at the thought of what she was proposing. What was it that Orochi had said? "We're very much in love but that also means that she does her own thing when she wants, and so do I." I tightened my hold on the countertop. If I let go, I would crumble in a heap. "In fact, I imagine it would be quite fun," she calmly continued, tracing her right index fingertip across my lips. "He likes blondes almost as much as I do." Her arm snaked around my neck as she spoke, those dark eyes watching my expression for any sign of resistance. Her aroma—some kind of spicy perfume—was infusing my senses and her knowing smile widened at my complete capitulation. When her fingers curled in my hair, she tilted her head to the side as she pressed her curvaceous body into mine. "Why don't you kiss me," she softly murmured, that accent making the words sound even sexier. "You know you want to." She was right... Those pouting red lips were only a fraction away and when she traced the tip of her tongue along the outside of my mouth, I responded with all the passion that had been building up over the last hour. Her lips were somehow both softer and more demanding than any woman or man I'd ever been with and her large breasts pressed into mine, our nipples duelling through the thin material of our dresses, as the kiss deepened further. It was surreal. Her husband had been flirting with, telling me he wanted to fuck me, and a short time later his wife was giving me her approval before locking us in a passionate embrace. But it wasn't just surreal. It was so fucking sexy, too... Her voice was thick and husky as she at last pulled her lips away from mine and kept up the sexual torture. "Perhaps I could watch the two of you," she murmured, her free hand effortlessly easing the hem of my skirt upwards. "Then join you?" My body jerked involuntarily at her words. Kumico had watched while her husband had made love to me. Then she'd joined in... "I know you'd like that," she whispered, sliding her hand inside my thong. I shivered at her touch. Those delectable fingers felt so cool against my smooth skin. She knew exactly what she was doing and I was completely lost to the eroticism engulfing me. Her incredible touch skimmed along the ridge of my labia, teased my clit, and when they—so easily—pushed inside my wetness, I found myself widening my legs to accommodate her. Was she really being serious about her and Orochi? Having the two of them together would be all of my lewdest fantasies rolled into one. Her red lips were all over my neck, chin, ears and mouth—never still—driving up my arousal as her fingers did their work. This wasn't going to take long. "Or maybe we should let Nick play, too?" she teasingly added, ramping up the heat another notch. "Judging from the way he couldn't keep his hands off me, the poor dear does seem to need some sort of relief. Perhaps you'd like to watch me fuck him while Orochi takes you from behind." An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 05 Her lewd words and the pictures they painted instantly did their job. The incredibly erotic image of this dark-skinned beauty—her full, naked breasts swaying erotically on her tanned body as she pumped down on my husband—was suddenly too much. My moans came out like a series of reverberations, bouncing from the back of my throat as my senses went into overload. When she twisted her fingers inside me and lightly stroked my clit with the pad of her thumb, she might as well have flipped a detonator. Luciana covered my orgasmic cries by kissing me again, her lips wet and soft, and once the tremors began to subside she turned me around so that I was looking at our reflections in the mirror. Her appearance was just as sexy and composed as when we'd first met, whereas I was gasping like a just-fucked streetwalker. "That was just for starters," her heavily accented voice sensually promised in my ear. "Just wait until we get you back to our hotel suite." --- Orochi and Nana's penthouse suite was on the top floor of the 5-star Westin hotel and was as luxurious a dwelling as I'd ever experienced. The view afforded of the amazing city below us was mind boggling and Orochi was standing beside Nick at the window, pointing at something or other in the distance, while Luciana opened a bottle of champagne from the bar. Yoko and Hiutsu had taken us to the hotel in their limousine, before leaving the four of us to whatever the night held. I had been hoping they would take Nick with them, drop him off at our apartment, and leave me alone with Orochi and Luciana. He was so drunk he would probably have fallen asleep on our apartment floor. But instead, Luciana had given me that knowing smile of hers as she'd insisted he accompany us back to their suite. I couldn't help but shiver at the recollection of her lewd words in the restroom. "Perhaps you'd like to watch me fuck him while Orochi takes you from behind..." Was that what she had in mind? "This place is amazing," I nervously told her, as she turned away from the bar and held up a flute of champagne. It was filled to the brim and, when some of the bubbly slid over the top and down the outside of the glass, her eyes stayed on mine as she made a point of licking the liquid from the side with her long tongue. "We believe in luxury," she smiled, handing me the flute and unexpectedly closing in for a long, sensuous kiss. I could hardly breathe as our lips eventually parted and, with a delicious grin, she turned back to the bar. "Almost as much as we believe in sex," she added over her shoulder. I glanced across at Nick to see if he'd been watching us, but he and Orochi were still enjoying the view from the window. Orochi had his hand around his shoulder and such was Nick's intoxicated state that I doubted he would even have been able to stand by himself without some support. "You're husband is so cute," Luciana told me, turning back to me and tucking a few loose strands of my blonde hair behind my ear. "Have you ever seen him with another woman?" So there it was. Out in the open. She was going to fuck him. I bashfully shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. "Then tonight will be the first time," she sensuously told me as she picked up the two glasses she'd poured for the men. "You with Orochi and me with Nick. It will be sexy to watch, yes?" My pussy flooded at her words. It wasn't just my husband, but rather the thought of watching this hot Brazilian woman gyrating on any man was more than enough to get my juices flowing. Nick had consumed so much alcohol that I could imagine him curling up in the corner of the suite and falling asleep before she'd even started. In some ways, I wished he would. That would leave this beautiful couple to me and me alone... "Come on, let's go join them," Luciana told me, breaking my thought. My body felt like it was floating as we walked across to the window—it wasn't just Nick who was over his alcohol limit. But even so, the booze didn't diminish the heady anticipation of what was about to take place. I could feel the sexual heat inside me as I watched Luciana hand the men their drinks and bring Nick's free hand to her right breast as she kissed my husband. It was a long, open-mouthed prolonged kiss, designed to make a statement. I glanced at Orochi, hoping I wasn't blushing, and he simply smiled at me as he raised his glass and calmly toasted to 'a beautiful night ahead'. I couldn't help myself as I sidled closer to him and kissed him full on the lips. If it worked for Luciana, then it worked for me too. And yet although the sexual feelings inside me were intense, at the same time I couldn't help but feel uneasy. One part of me wanted to sate my lust with this handsome playboy and his stunning young wife, but another just wanted to kiss my husband and let him know that we could still work our problems out. The thought left my mind the moment Orochi handed me his glass and then slid both of his hands through the loose gaps at the side of my dress. I gasped as his cool palms cupped my naked breasts. "I can promise you," he whispered in my ear as his fingers found my nipples. "This will be a night to remember forever." Arousal surged through me. Arousal unlike anything I was used to feeling with Nick. Suddenly, I just wanted to feel this man's cock inside me. His fingers were pulling on my nipples now and I dropped both flutes and their contents to the carpeted floor as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "I want you," I told him, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. "I know," he arrogantly replied, twisting my nipples. "But tell me this, are you as good a cocksucker as my wife?" His forehead nudged my head in the direction of Nick. Luciana had pushed him down onto one of the sofas, unzipped his trousers and taken him into her mouth. He had both eyes closed and it even looked as if he could be asleep, except for the way one of his hands was stroking her dark hair. "She's very good," Orochi said, taking my hand and leading me to the other couch across from the couple. "Are you?" Even as I began to sink to my knees, eager to accept the challenge, his hands were working my shoulder straps down and then tugging my dress downwards. Beneath, I wore only the black thong that his wife had so recently slid her fingers inside, and I paused just long enough for him to drink in my nakedness before dropping to my knees. "I'll let you be the judge," I huskily told him, flicking my tongue across my lips as I unbuckled his belt, pulled it free, unzipped him, and then theatrically yanked his white boxer shorts to his knees. His erect cleanly-shaven cock was beautiful and I took a moment to admire the way it bent slightly to the left before taking him deep inside my mouth. From the angle, I could see Luciana's dark hair bouncing around her head on the sofa near us as her mouth went after Nick's cock like a dog with a bone. I'd never seen a wilder blow job, even in all the porn I'd watched. But Orochi had set me a challenge and I wasn't going to be found wanting! His wife was hot, wild and passionate, and that told me this needed to be the slowest, most sensual blow job he'd ever been privileged to experience. For the next twenty minutes I took him to the edge and back more times than I could remember. To begin with, his cockhead was my prisoner, there to be licked and lapped before I eventually took it inside my mouth. On the couple of occasions some pre-cum appeared, I swiped it with my tongue, letting him seeing it rest there on the very tip before I swallowed and then licked my lips. I dribbled saliva down his length, my eyes holding his as I slowly rubbed it into his hard flesh; my hands stretched around his thick girth before my mouth descended and then I took him deep in my throat, holding him there, almost gagging before I slid him back to the very edge of my lips again. Drooling even more saliva down his shaven shaft, this time I licked it in, covering every inch of flesh with my tongue and constantly watching his reaction as he began to groan. My smiling eyes were enough to calm him every time he tried to force his cock back between my lips again and, to reward his obedience, I dropped my mouth to his testicles and sucked each one in turn while my corkscrewing fingers continued to tease his throbbing thickness. And just when I had him used to the gradual tease of my lips, I jammed my mouth firmly over him and machine-gunned up and down until his entire body tensed. My timing had to be perfect and it was. Each time it seemed he couldn't contain himself, I circled his cockhead with my thumb and index finger, holding back the threatened surge just before he could let go. This was a blow job he was going to remember long after tonight was over. I'd been so lost in my loving ministrations that I'd almost forgotten that Luciana and my husband were only a short distance away. She was naked now, apart from her suspender belt, stockings and high heels. That woman knew how to be sexy! Her tanned body was everything I imagined—curves everywhere without even a hint of excess fat, incredibly high breasts with dark-brown nipples on their crests, and a tight labia that was already engulfing my husband's cock. As she rode him, I felt a tinge of melancholy mixed with my arousal. How had it come to this? I was still married, wasn't I? Until we'd arrived in Tokyo, I was completely in love with my husband. Maybe I still was? No, that wasn't true. Once upon a time, we had been a normal, married couple, looking to improve our lives, but now we'd drifted miles apart. The sadness drifted away as I watched the dark-haired beauty ride my husband. She wasn't just fucking him, she was devouring him. I don't think I'd ever seen such carnality. She fucked with her head, neck, shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs and her legs as well as her cleanly shaven sex. In typical Latin American way, it seemed that every single part of her body was involved in the act... Fingernails digging into his still clothed chest, head thrown back, red lips half-open, I don't think I'd ever seen such a sexy sight. And the way she'd begun to chant with each cock-length bounce only added to the moment. Nick's eyes were fully clothed and I really couldn't tell if he was awake under the onslaught. That would be typical of him. The best fuck he was ever likely to get in his life—except for me, of course—and he'd fallen asleep. Not that it would have mattered to Luciana. His hard cock was all she needed. I could feel the need rise in me as I watched her and I machine-gunned my mouth down on Orochi once more, but this time I had no intention of stopping until I had what I needed. He groaned, he gurgled and then he came—fast and hard in my mouth. I did my best to swallow it all, but ended up choking a little at the copious amount. This was impressive, very impressive... When some of his cum dripped down my chin, onto my breasts, I greedily followed it with my fingers, scooping it up on my fingertips and letting Orochi watch as I fed the creamy liquid between my lips again. "We don't want to waste any, do we?" I wantonly asked. He laughed as he pushed himself upwards, his thick cock dangling imperiously between his thighs. "If you didn't already know, I was imagining that all the way through dinner," he said with a salacious grin. "Now let me get you more champagne to wash it down and then I'll be ready to go again." --- Orochi had been as true as his word. Between his and his wife's ministrations, I'd cum so hard, so many times, that I was having trouble focusing. Yet the lust inside me just continued to expand and grow. The heat in my body was like a furnace. Nick had passed out a long time ago and I wondered if he would have any recollection of the evening tomorrow? If he did, I wasn't even sure he'd have known I was in the room. Not that it mattered anymore. In between the intense sexual couplings, I'd already decided that our marriage was over. "Big, isn't he?" Luciana seductively whispered in my ear, bringing me back to the present. Orochi was, although not as big as a couple of the masseuses I'd been with. Still, size wasn't everything, I thought, as I reached out to curl my fingers around his still impressive hardness. How many men could go this long? "Want to suck him again?" she teasingly asked. The needy look in my eyes answered for her and she smoothed my damp blonde hair back before pushing my head forward. I let out a moan of appreciation as I eagerly covered his veiny shaft with my mouth again. I really couldn't get enough of his thick cock. And this time, I wasn't in the mood to tease... Orochi sucked in air as I wrapped my mouth around him, my chin bouncing against his testicles as I enthusiastically went back to work. His sexually-insatiable wife took immediate advantage by eagerly slipping down between my thighs and lapping at my glistening sex with long, powerful strokes of her tongue. I'd done the same to her when she'd blown her husband, loving the way her clutching hands had fastened onto my blonde locks as she'd pushed her body upwards and screamed out her orgasm. I curled one leg around her tanned back as she tongued me, and settled into a steady rhythm sucking her husband's cock. His eyes were shut as she revelled in the moment, and when I surprised him by reaching out to playfully squeeze his heavy testicles, his cock jumped deliciously in my throat. "Yes..." he grunted, opening his eyes to gaze approvingly at me as I swallowed him all the way into the back of my throat. "Yes... like that..." His Japanese accent was even heavier and thicker when he was this aroused. I loved that. Sliding his hardness back out, I opened my legs even wider to accommodate Luciana's tongue and fingers before starting to fuck him with my mouth. Luciana's blow jobs could be wild and uninhibited. So could mine. The tension in his balls under my clutching palm made me purr. He'd soon be ready to cum again. How many times tonight was that? It seemed there was no end to his ability to give me his creamy seed and then recover again. I squeezed his testicles again, first his right and then his left, sucking like a dervish. I could sense him trying to hold back but he didn't have a chance. Not when I was in this mood. When I took him deep inside and was still able to curl my tongue around him, the sensation was enough to send him over the edge. His body jerked like a puppet as he fired into my mouth, coating the back of my throat with that wonderful creaminess again. Even as I began to lick him clean, I felt Luciana turning me onto my back, and I growled out my pleasure as I realised what was on her mind. When she straddled my head and lowered her glistening folds to my mouth, I curled my fingers around her tanned thighs and tried my best to hold onto her undulating body as she began to face-fuck her new conquest. I didn't want this night to ever end... --- Lying spread eagled on the large bed, worn out from the constant sex but still needing more, I felt my mouth go dry as I watched Luciana fuck her husband. The mattress bounced as their passion increased, and they were so close that I could stroke either of their perspiring flanks if I simply reached out my arm. The voluptuous woman's sexual thirst was unquenchable, and she constantly changed position as she took her husband from one high to another. Orochi's stamina was impressive, too. Whenever Luciana and I separated from our own sensual lovemaking, and urged him to fuck one of us again, he had continually proven up to the task. Despite the aches I could feel in every part of my body, I found my hand sliding to my swollen sex as I watched them. The dark-skinned woman looked like a Sex Goddess as she gyrated on her husband's lap, taking what was hers. Her dark sweat-drenched hair bounced on her tanned shoulders, her fabulous breasts danced an erotic dance on her perfect body, and if anything her appetite for sex had grown even more ravenous as the night had worn on. Her eyes flickered towards me and she nodded approvingly as I began to play with myself. I couldn't help it. Every time I had thought I couldn't take any more, that I was utterly exhausted from our sexual activities, I only had to look into her sexy brown-green eyes, at those pouting 'Angelina Jolie' lips, or her gravity-defying breasts with those brown nipples, and I was ready to go again. She looked directly into my eyes as she gyrated in circles on her husband, breasts thrust forward as she rested her hands in her dark hair. She started to talk to me in her native Portuguese, telling me dirty, sexual things I was sure. The erotic sight and husky words made me dizzy with desire for her. She was aware of that, too. The wanton expression on my face gave my need away and the soft smile that touched her lips confirmed that she understood. But all in good time, her eyes were telling me. She'd finish fucking her husband first and then she'd give me her body—again—to do with as I wanted. And afterwards, after a brief rest, we'd start all over again... An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 06 I glanced around me, marvelling at the hustle and bustle. The two kilometres Avenue des Champs-Élysées was one of the most famous streets in the world and after a long day's shopping, Luciana and I were enjoying a martini and a slice of cake outside of the Restaurant Le Fouquet's Parisian brasserie. Each of our shopping bags was tucked away under our table. There was hardly room for them all. Had we really spent that much? We'd flown to Paris in Orochi's private jet, although Luciana's husband hadn't been invited to join us. This was strictly a 'girls' trip, Luciana had insisted. She and I had become good friends since the uninhibited night I'd spent with them during their visit to Tokyo, and the trip to France had been more of a whim than anything else. Luciana had explained that the shops in Paris were to die for while the cafes were more than a place to pass the time of day. They were an institution, a cultural phenomenon, she'd said. So we'd packed our bags at a moment's notice and headed off on our overnight shopping trip. We'd dressed more conservatively than normal—Luciana in a coral halterneck dress with its bust ruching. The top displayed just enough of her tanned cleavage to be classically sexy while the floaty skirt showed her long legs to perfection. I'd gone for a different look, dressing simply but sexily in a low-rise pair of skinny jeans that could have been sprayed on and an overly tight, sleeveless blouse that emphasised my breasts. If there were two sexier-looking women in the whole of Paris, I'd yet to see them. "It's so full of..." I softly breathed, glancing again around the outside of the cafe and then across the Champs-Élysées. "Joie de vivre?" Luciana suggested, smiling warmly. "Paris is the most romantic of cities, and this is a plus belle avenue du monde." I felt a shiver run up my spine. The Brazilian woman's accent was delicious enough anyway, but when she spoke in French it elevated her sexiness to another level. "The most beautiful avenue in the world," she added by way of explanation as she reached across to push a loose strand of blonde hair away from my eye. "But just you wait until I take you to visit Rio de Janeiro at carnival time. I promise that you will never have experienced anything like it." "I'd love that," I gratefully told her, my brown eyes glowing with excitement. She'd spent an hour on the flight here recounting her experiences in Brazil—my own wild youth was nothing compared to hers—and left me realising that there was so much in life that I had yet to experience. And yet, while the new world I inhabited was everything I could have dreamed about and more, there was a part of me that was still trying to come to terms with the way my life had changed so dramatically in such a short space of time. Six months ago I'd been a happily married woman and had relocated to Japan with my husband, looking forward to our new life together in a different country, learning a new culture. But then Nick had become more and more involved in his work, leaving me alone for long periods, and to my shame I'd allowed the sexual frustration to get to me, with the inevitable consequences. I'd gone from being a three times a day girl to a starvation diet and when Yoko had recognise my need and exposed me to so many sexual opportunities, I had quickly and willingly given in to the temptations confronting me. Yes, I'd felt guilt after each encounter, but with Nick working so hard and beginning to drink so heavily, that remorse had gradually been swept away. I'd been carried along on a tide of sexual bliss that part of me never wanted to end. The problem was, there was another part that thought differently. The good girl in me. Yes, I enjoyed my sluttish side—what girl didn't—but why couldn't I express that side of me with my husband? Luciana's view was that I was wasting my time with such thoughts, and that I should divorce Nick and move on. Yoko felt the same way, too. I could work for her, she'd told me, and have all the sex I could ever need while living a luxurious lifestyle. It was very tempting. But something was holding me back, and that was the hope of Nick finding himself again. If he could stop his heavy drinking, and those long hours of work, then surely there was still the chance for us to move forward again? No matter what other people were telling me, I resolved to have one final conversation with my husband when I returned home. "Penny for them?" Luciana suddenly asked, noticing the way I'd gone quiet. "I was just thinking about how different my life is now," I morosely explained. For whatever reason, I didn't want to tell her how much I was missing my husband. Or rather, I was missing the husband I'd come to Japan with. "I could never have even dreamt of everything that's happened since I moved to Japan," I added, pulling my long blonde hair over my shoulder. "No regrets?" I hesitated and bought some time by licking a finger and picking up some crumbs from my plate. When I caught her eye again, her head was tilted to one side and she was watching me carefully. "Regrets? That's a good question," I said after some thought. "Life is too short for regrets, but I loved being happily married, Luciana, and everything that went with that. I really did think it would last forever. Everything has happened so fast, sometimes I still feel like I'm in a daze." Luciana comfortingly dropped her hand onto mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "There are lots of people who settle for what they have, rather than what they want," she softly said. "And that's fine for them. But people like you and I, Tiffany, we need more. My suggestion is that you just go with the flow, enjoy yourself, and you'll be surprised how quickly you forget all about your husband." Forget about Nick? Why did that thought fill me full of dread? "I have a friend, Husam al din," she went on, squeezing my hand again. "He lives in Dubai and made his money from oil. Orochi and he are close friends and my husband has been telling him all about you. Before we go to Rio, I'll fly you out there to meet him. He has some royal blood in his veins, and he looks so hot in his robes. His intention is to take a European bride, but don't let him enchant you until you really get to know him." I laughed, but my heart skipped every other beat as I studied her. Yes, I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was being serious. I chewed a little on my lower lip, meekly looking away before glancing at her again. "And he's got a big cock," she whispered, theatrically wiggling her eyebrows. "And an unusually open mind as far as sex is concerned. But listen, we'll talk about him again when we fly back to Japan. Right now, I'm more interested in tonight. Would you like to know what I had in mind?" I nodded, still trying to come to terms with my doubts. The last thing I wanted right now was to become involved with anyone else, not until I'd finally worked out my feelings for Nick. "Tonight?" Luciana repeated, recapturing my attention. She playfully ran a finger over her red lips as if she was pretending to think. "Let me see..." She checked around us, until her searching eyes lighted on one of the waiters we'd noticed earlier. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, and we'd agreed that his cute smile, youthful good looks and the couple of curls fell that down over his left eye definitely put him in the 'sexy French men' category. As soon as he caught her gaze, he hurried over to our table. "You're name, s'il vous plaît," Luciana purred, putting on her sexiest smile. "Henri, mademoiselle," he answered, in an accent so delicious that I thought I might cream my panties. I was impressed at the way he tried to maintain steady eye contact with her, although there wasn't any doubt that he had been unable to stop his gaze from slipping down into her healthy cleavage. "I am Luciana and this is my friend, Tiffany," she continued, waiting until his watchful smile had flickered from one of us to the other before continuing. "And we are looking for some entertainment this evening." She plucked an olive from her glass and rolled it on her tongue before crushing it between her teeth. Even I felt the stirrings between my thighs at such a blatantly sexual action. "We were wondering..." she continued. "Yes?" he hurriedly asked, brushing back those dark curls from over his left eye. "We were wondering," she slowly repeated, crossing her legs to give him a better look at her tanned thighs, "where we might find a young Frenchman who was up to the task of joining us tonight." He looked as if he was about to speak but then held back for a moment in case he should seem too eager. That wouldn't match a Frenchman's arrogantly cool image. "The thing is, Henri," Luciana continued, taking advantage of his hesitation. "Both Tiffany and I have very healthy appetites, as my husband will testify." She paused for a moment to let her words sink in and took the opportunity to flash her expensive wedding ring at him. "But then my husband isn't here tonight to satisfy us," she nonchalantly shrugged, "so what are two hungry young women to do?" "I understand," he answered, still attempting to maintain an unruffled calmness even though his excitement was all too evident in his dark eyes. He'd just won the lottery and his prizes were sitting infront of him, ready to be plucked. "I can promise you would have no complaints, Mademoiselles," he confidently assured us, "if I personally helped with your needs." Luciana inclined her head as she met his gaze full on, before running the back of her fingernails across her considerable cleavage. "You?" she teased. "But we are looking for a man, not a boy." "Madame," he brusquely snapped, with all the indignity of a young Frenchman whose manhood was being questioned. "This 'boy' has entertained many women and not a single one has ever voiced even a moment's dissatisfaction." "Is that so," Luciana murmured, her mischievous eyes gleaming sexily as she tossed a hand through her perfect black hair and turned towards me. "He seems very young, Tiffany. What do you think?" "Oh, I think there are times when youth has its advantages," I encouragingly said, unashamedly sliding my gaze down his body towards his crotch. "You're sure you would be up to the task, Henri?" --- He was. I'd no idea how many orgasms I'd enjoyed or how much time had passed. Nor did I care. All that mattered was that he'd fulfilled his promise and another supercharged climax was closing in. I loved being on top, and my half-squatting, half-reclining position over Henri's muscular prone body allowed me to attain the maximum friction from his impressive endowment. Perspiration covered my forehead as I gently pushed up on his toned body and then thrust down on that thick young cock again. My position had the added benefit of allowing me to watch Luciana continue to play with herself on the nearby chair while she waited her turn again. The Brazilian beauty looked so beautiful as one hand pulled on her brown nipples while the fingers of the other worked diligently between her spread thighs. A smile spread across her face as she saw me looking and she sexily pushed off the chunky armchair, treating me to an unadulterated view of her voluptuous body as she strutted slowly across the short distance towards Henri and I. "Seen something you like?" she teased as she walked, one long leg crossed in front of the other as if in a model's catwalk pose. Her full breasts bounced erotically with each great roll of her fabulous hips and I felt myself gasping. Apart from Yoko, perhaps, could any woman look sexier? I repositioned myself as she approached; sliding forward with my knees on the mattress and sitting upright on Henri. Luciana smirked at me as she crawled up onto the other side of the bed, facing me as swung a shapely leg across the young Frenchman's face. "Kiss me," she whispered into my mouth as she lowered her smooth sex to Henri's waiting lips. We leant forward to meet one another in what seemed like slow motion. Her fingers scraped across the back of my neck as she tilted my head into a better position for the kiss and then her wet tongue had slipped between my parted lips. Her body began to undulate on Henri's tongue as the kiss became more heated and passionate and mine continued to gyrate on his throbbing cock. "Life is good?" she softly chuckled when we eventually broke apart. I nodded as her right hand found my breast and she ran her thumb across my hard nipple. At times like this, it was unbelievably good. But my need to talk to Nick was growing, and it wouldn't be denied. "You know what I'd like," she whispered, sliding her other hand down between my legs. "I'd like you to show me just how wild you can be when you fuck him." I instantly obeyed, pushing thoughts of my husband to the back of my mind as I lost myself in a haze of sexual lust. As I began to drive down on Henri, her fingers found my clit, driving me closer and closer to my climax. When I eventually screamed out my orgasm, she let the tremors run through me before whispering in my ear. "The young guy who carried our bags to our room was kind of cute, didn't you think," she sexily murmured, "Why don't we invite him to join us, too..." DIVINE INTERVENTION It was one week later and I still hadn't had that conversation with Nick? Why? Because he was either working or, on the rare occasions he was at home, he was in his usual inebriated state. That had made it a long week. I'd rehearsed everything I wanted to say over and over again, but what was the point when he wasn't in any fit state for me to talk to him? I'd even forsaken sex ever since Luciana and I had returned from Paris, hoping that my next encounter would be with the man I still loved. How stupid was that? Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I was wasting my time. Relationships were two-way, weren't they, and despite my indiscretions it felt like I was the only one willing to try to save our marriage. So when Yoko asked me to do her a 'favour', I readily agreed. It felt like if I didn't have sex again soon, I would go out of my mind. My 'client' was another member of Japanese parliament, twice my age apparently, and had wanted to meet me for some time. It seemed my reputation was growing! That was when fate intervened. --- I saw from Nick's expression that he had awoken to a face he didn't recognise. When his body reacted, jerking upwards and grabbing the hand with the needle, I ran my hand across his fevered brow. "It's okay," I soothingly told him, as he stared at me in shock. "It's the doctor." "Dr. Nakamura," the dark haired man introduced himself. "I fixed your wounds as best I could. You'll be fine once the fever eases, but you'll need to rest for a good few days." Nick tried to focus his eyes on the doctor, but his stare turned into a squint. "What happened?" he mumbled. "You were mugged," I told him, wiping his brow with the wet towel in my hand. "You've been flat out for hours." He'd been very lucky. Apparently he'd been drunk out of his mind, and had succumbed to a couple of assailants when he'd left the bar. His money and credit cards had been stolen, although he must have resisted because they'd beaten him up quite badly. "I have the headache from hell," he croaked, looking from the doctor to me and back again. "Not surprising," Nakamura broke in. "Rest is what you need, young man. I suggest this guardian angel makes sure you get plenty." "I'm okay," Nick slurred, shifting on the bed. He was blinking rapidly, as if that would help clear the fuzz in front of his eyes. Nakamura held up the needle he'd just used. "You will be shortly," he said. "I've filled you full of antibiotics." Closing his small bag, he turned towards me. "Just keep him warm, so he doesn't go into shock. That's very important. After a few days rest, he'll be fine." --- Nick moaned as I leaned over him. I'd kept touching his brow while he slept, hating the way his body felt on fire one moment, and then dipped in ice the next. "Sshhh," I soothingly told him as he squeezed his eyes open. He squinted through the pale, pink light of the bedside lamp beside us, taking his time before being able to focus on my face. When he tried to speak, another chill passed through him and his teeth began to chatter. "Dry," he eventually gasped, forcing the words out. I eased my hand under his head, gingerly helping him accept a drink from a glass of cold water. When some ran down his chin, I wiped it away and fished an ice cube from the jug of water on the white bedside cabinet. Dropping it into a handkerchief, I held it against his lips. "Just suck on it," I softly breathed into his ear. "It'll be easier for you. "What happened?" he managed to gasp. "A couple of thugs attacked you," I explained, smiling at him as I touched his forehead. "It's important that you rest." "What ... time ... is it?" My eyes flicked to the luminous bedside clock. "It's four in the morning." For a good half a minute he lay there, trying to recall what had happened. I ran my hand across his forehead again, and when I eased it away, he took it between his bandaged fingers. It looked as if he wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't find their way out. "Don't worry, you can tell me later," I smiled. I dropped the wet handkerchief onto the bowl on the bedside table, so that I could tuck the blankets around him. "It's important for you to keep warm, Nick. You've got to outrun that fever." He nodded, although I doubt that he understood. Then his heavy eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep again. --- I'd silently watched Nick for a short while as he lay awake. The deep sleep had helped, though he probably had no idea how long he'd slumbered. He was warmer now, his head was beginning to clear and it felt to me as if his brain was working again. But he was still weak. Dreadfully weak. As his eyes began to focus, he turned to the side. His body jerked as he bumped into mine next to his and, reaching out, his hand found my naked breast. "You've recovered quickly," I whispered, close to his ear, and then quipped, "I take it you're feeling frisky?" He jerked his hand away, as if he was embarrassed. How strange! He was my husband, after all, despite our trials and tribulations. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice croaky. Now he was apologising! How ridiculous was that? He couldn't know it in his drugged state, but his touch had lit a flame in me. I hadn't had sex for a week, and the need for intimacy was practically overwhelming me. "How are you feeling?" I contented myself by asking. "Thirsty," he answered. Sitting up, I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and helped him drink. He swallowed half the contents before licking his dry lips. "Thank you," he mumbled, taking a deep breath. "That feels better. Thanks for taking care of me, Tiffany." "What do you expect?" I sighed. "You're my husband. It's taken some time but I think your fever had broken. A little more rest will have you up and about again in the next couple of days." He took the glass from me, quickly draining the rest of the water before handing it back. I placed it back onto the bedside table, before snuggling back into him again. "You were cold," I said, explaining my nakedness. "You needed my body heat." I watched as his eyes found my naked tits. When he swallowed deeply, I moved back a fraction so that his gaze could gorge on them. Could he see that my nipples were hard? That I was aroused? "Would you like to touch me, Nick?" I asked him. An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 06 It took a few moments before he reacted. Slowly, his bandaged hand reached across, and his fingertips brushed my erect nipples. "Poor baby," I breathed, feeling the need in me beginning to build. "You can't feel too much through a bandage. How about this?" Leaning across him, I brought my left breast to his mouth. When he sucked in my nipple, I felt the inevitable reaction between my thighs. Sometimes I thought that my nipple was connected to my clit. "That's so nice, Nick," I murmured, stroking his hair with one hand. How long had it been since I had fucked my husband? Despite his weakened state—or because of it?—I wasn't going to wait much longer. My other hand snaked down to his cock. He was nice and hard. "This thing has been digging into me for the last hour," I whispered, as my lips brushed his neck. "Want me to take care of it?" I began to slide my leg across his hip before he could think of a reply. "You're still weak," I murmured stroking my nipples across his chest as I settled on him. "So just relax and enjoy." With practiced ease, I teased his cock with my labia before I sank down on him. When he was ball deep in me, I slithered my mouth across his, the kiss both tender and passionate. Easing up onto my haunches, my aroused eyes stared down into his. The dreamy look that comes with initial entry was etched across his tight face. His long groan turned into a throaty growl as I slowly began to move, and then he grimaced, clenching his teeth as a bolt of pain shot through him. The rib was either broken or bruised. "That hurt?" I asked, watching his face wince. "Want me to stop?" Even though my voice was full of concern, I'm not sure I could have stopped myself, even though I'd asked the question. I needed to fuck him right now, and I needed to fuck him all night, all week. Just like the old days. "Don't stop," he gasped, his bandaged hands moving to grip my hips. I felt my heart leap. My husband wanted me and that meant the world to me. If he hadn't lost himself in his work, and his drink, then our marriage wouldn't be in the sorry state it was now, but I was every bit at fault. All of a sudden, I put my extreme need to one side. I didn't want to fuck Nick. I wanted to make love to him. My loving movements were for his gratification, not mine, and I moved as if in slow motion, careful to ensure my undulations brought him more pleasure than pain. "Let me do the work," I whispered, tracing my hard nipples across his chest again. "Let me take care of you, Nick." He growled. Soon, it became a continuous noise. I was taking care of him. Looking down, my half closed eyes smiled at him and when I contracted my muscles, that brought another gasp from his lips. "I love you, Nick," I whispered, easing my hips upwards until just his crown was inside me. Only when he raised his buttocks in search of my clutching sex did I smoothly slide back down, sheathing him in my wonderful wetness. He gasped again, and so did I. All of a sudden, my own need was beginning to overwhelm me again. Picking up my speed, my tits began to sway deliciously to the pace of my thrusts. "Still hurts?" I asked. "Just a little," he gasped, struggling with each word. Instantly I slowed down again, partly out of concern for his welfare but also to make sure that this was going to last. Pulling a pillow from behind him, I propped it behind his head. Raising myself up on my knees so that there was no pressure on his body, only his cock in my sex joined us. "Then let's take it gently," I murmured lovingly. His eyes made their way down to our union, where the dark curls of his pubic hair brushed along my smooth pussy. Once I had his gaze centred where I wanted, I returned to my slow, rhythmic gyrations, only the clutching walls of my pussy making contact with him. Only when I was sure he was comfortable did I begin to plunge a little faster, my hips pistoning up and down like a well-oiled engine. Soon, he was close. I could feel that. When his gaze met mine, he looked so vulnerable. That look made me curse myself for having been such a fool. How could I have ever thought I could give up this man? How could I have fucked things up the way I had? And yet, it suddenly felt like his orgasm was going to be symbolic, one that would help wipe away all the nonsense that had happened to us and signal a new start. We had a lot of talking to do. But not until later. Much later. "Cum for me," I whispered, as if giving permission, "Cum for your wife, Nick." To make sure, I clenched my internal muscles on his hardness one final time, coaxing his cum from his balls. His mouth opened as he erupted, but I cut off the sound with a kiss. Things were going to be different between us now. Better. We were both going to turn a new page and save our marriage. We were going to get our life back on track again. Or so I hoped...