Kondo San?

"Do you really get aroused with this stuff? You are NOT so... "

"A part of me IS so... Born to have 'chinko' inside... I am a female, born to greet males... inside.. But I have learned to choose which ones... " she wispered. And she turned her head to meet my eyes. "And I'm happy... to have chosen you... To have greeted you... to get your 'chinko' inside... Really!"

"You have got my "seyeki" inside too... Are you noy afraid that I could have... "

"That you could have some disease? No... I have a rule: I do it only with those that I trust enough for not to use the 'kondo san'... "

"Hm... It's risky... "

"I know. I don't give my trust so often. I can resist quite a long time without a man. I do it only with the males I choose. The males I really trust. And I trust you... "

"Hm... " I said. She leaned again on my back and start moving again. My dick was hard again, but it was too nice to feel her body... So I let her go on...

"And you, how long can you stay without a woman? Without having sex with a woman?"

"Hm... Not so much... say, four, five months... After that, I start to lose my marbles," I snorted.

"And how long were you living without a woman, before today?" she snorted, smiling.

"Four months... day more, day less... " I had to declare. She snorted again.

"So you were looking for a woman, when you met me?"

"I was looking for a 'sopu'... " I confessed. It was short for 'sopurando'...

"Ah... " she smiled. "But it's hard to get in a 'sopu', for you 'gaijin', you know?"

"Yes... But I've met a Japanese guy, in Italy... We became friends... He gave me an address, and he told me to use his name... He told me the girls were very nice, and were all thoroughbred Japanese... Not Korean or the likes..."

"Why?"

"Well, they say that in the "sopu" where the 'gaijin" are admitted, the girls are not Japanese... Koreans, Vietnamese... Nice all the same... But not Japanese... They think the 'gaijin' don't guess the difference: an Asian girl is an Asian girl... And maybe they're right... "

"Why is it so?"

"I've heard that many people don't want the 'gaijin' to sleep with Japanese girls... They think that they are not worth of this honor... " I said. She chuckled.

"But you ARE worth to sleep with ME... I WANT you to DO it... Again... "

"So I deserve this honor?"

"Oh, yes! And I AM a thoroughbred Japanese girl... "

Then, without warning, she raised up from me, seated on her toes and told me to stand up. I obeyed. She looked into my eyes, with a smile, and took my dick into her mouth. This time she did not want just to clean it up. Not only "it", at least. The belly, the thighs, the balls, and a bit beyond, behind... Hey! That was taboo for me!

"Boku wa kimi no kuchi o fakku shitai!". I took her by her hair, pulling her head back from there.

"Hai!", she said. Yes!

I pushed my dick close to her mouth, and she just opened it and closed her eyes. I took her up to where her mouth ended and her throat began, hands on her hair, moving my loins slowly, as if I was fucking her in her belly, and she did not protest, nor gagged. She just moaned a bit, meekly, when my 'inkeikito' hit the back of her troath. She was mine. Totally mine...

I left her head and enjoyed the show: she was going ahead on her own, moving her head back and forth. Her tongue was giving soft hits below my shaft, as the throbs of the muscles of her cunt when she was going to come (to "go", as you please). She really was going for it!

"Go-tsu kun? Shasèi?", I asked. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed, dedicating herself to my dick. It took not so much time, and she did not pull her head back, nor open her eyes.

"Hmmmmmhhh! -, she mumbled when she felt me gushing in her mouth, just with half of my dick beyond her lips and her teeth. I held the base of my dick in my hand. I did not want to choke her...

She kept it in the mouth for a while, opened her lips, said "Ah!", then looked at me.

"Mite! Watashi wa kimi no seieki o mattaku nomikonda!" And she opened wide her mouth to prove it. True, it was empty. She had swalllowed all my "seieki", my male juice.

And she was happy like a child who did something difficult, and wanted that everybody know that.

"This is called "gokkùn"..." she added, panting. "Wen it's made... to the bitter end..."

I knelt, stroked her hair, kissed her as it takes, tongue in her mouth. She appreciated it.

"You would not kiss me that way if you thought that I am a 'kosho benjo'..."

"What that means? Is it not... public loo, something like that?"

"Literally, yes, it is so," she smiled. "But ir really means... a woman who never say "no", who does it with anyone... "Una... che lo fa... con tutti'"!"

Got it. A woman with whom anyone can... well, "empty"... you know what...

"Hm... No, I don't think you are so," I said. She shook her head no, smiling, and kissed me again, whith her lips closed.

Sure, she was not a nun at all. But not even a nynphomaniac or something like that. She liked sex, but she had not a never ending itch between the legs. Surely she was able to say "no", to choose what male greet in her bed, in her body, and what male not.

"How do you say... this kind of woman is... Putana"?

"Puttana, with two 'T's," I corrected her. She chuckled: she liked that detached, professor-like tone... "

"I am happy to have been your... putttana... "

"Two 'T's, not three."

She laughed and kissed me again. Almost no taste except her breath, her small soft tongue.

"How do you say it?" I asked her.

"'Baishun-fu'," she smiled, "'sho-fu', 'yujo', 'baita', 'gaba- man'... that means, big cunt... 'fushidarana'... 'Ama', which means, nun, ironically... 'Meinu', that means, bitch, or female... 'Ken no dampu', that is, "cum dump"... And then 'yariman-on-na'..."

"What means exactly 'Yariman-on-na'?" I wondered. "'On-na' means woman, I know"

She chuckled again, a bit embarrassed.

"Whoman who did it ten thousands times. Donna... che lo fa... diecimile volte!"

"And where does she find the time to live?" I wondered. She laughed. "And how you say 'woman skilled in bed'? 'Woman who does it well'?"

"Tokozyozu," she smiled, putting her wrists om my shoulders. She knew I was thinking about her.

I embraced her, without tightening her body.

"Kimi wa tokozyozu tàk'san dès," I said. In all sincerity, in all sobriety... She smiled.

"'Arigatò'!" she said, softly. Looking down. Thank you. She sighed and looked at the clock on the wall, the only concession to modern times, but so essential, almost 'zen', to be in tune with the whole interior. It was time to come back on the planet Earth.

"Do you have to go home, to your friend?"I said. She nodded.

"Yes ," she nodded, "today it's my turn to cook." She looked at me mischievously: "But we're just friends, we're not... rezubian!"

"I do not doubt of it." I said. Rezubian, from English, "lesbian"... Girlfriends, yes, but not up to that point... Surely SHE was not 'rezubian'. Bisexual, maybe...

She went to wash before to get dressed. I remained in bed, to recuperate, and to enjoy the situation. Calm, a sweet smell of sex and female all around, and all over me ... I did not want to wash myself and make her losing time. I had no objection to have her scent all over me, and in the lower parts I was already clean. She had taken care of it ...

"My friend is nice too, do you know?" she told me loudly from the bathroom. "She is younger, smaller than me, a bit more demure... But she's nice."

"Why do you tell me that?"

"Just so. Her name is Yoko." Her name was Masako, she had told me in the metro, when we just had met each other.

I closed my eyes and fancied her cooking. For a man, perhaps, since she was not a 'rezubian'. Cooking for herself and a female friend could be fun, talking about job, movies, or about dansei, the males. But not for a whole lifetime.

She was cooking, quiet. Her man came, he enjoyed a little the show, maybe asking her if she needed a hand. Then approached, hands on her shoulders, her crotch against her little Asian bum... She let him do that, smiling. There are some things in the oven, she muttered. I like the things well cooked, he said. He lifted her skirt, folded her down, and she did not rebel. She moaned, as he penetrated her, plowed her. Without a word, without forcing. Then a kiss on the mouth, and buon appetito, good appetite. For both of them. Enjoy your meal, as you have enjoyed your female. And as your female has enjoyed you...

I had to make an effort of will to get up and get dressed. The party was over, at least for that time. We had been naked and skin to skin with each other for so long that now I felt strange with my dress on. Yeah, like an albatross on the deck of a ship. There, clumsy, wings folded, walking, uncomfortable like a fish out of the water ...

She emerged from the bathroom with the white bathrobe, long up to her feet, her smooth hair free to go down on her shoulders, reaching for her breasts. Clean , pure like a priestess. But with a light, beautiful smile, only for me.

She hugged me, kissed me on the nose, and I felt better.

"I still feel your chinko inside of me," she said. "I feel it very much... "

"And I feel it still in the heat inside of you."

"You can put it in the heat again, whenever you want... Till you are here," she said, pushing her pubes against mine.

"Beware, I could start again... " I said, grabbing her butt and tightening her soft abdomen against mine. She chuckled, shaking his head no. It was not possible, she said. Alas, it was not! I let her go.

"Do you want to take some photos of me?"she smiled. "Even naked... If you want... "

She opened his robe, showing her boobs. They were still swollen, her nipples erected, pointing at me, as an offer...

"Aren't you afraid that I could put them on the web?" I asked. She closed her robe, but kept smiling.

"Not you," She shook his head. "You would never do it. You're a gentleman."

"And if I show them to my friends? I mean... off-line."

"Show them," she shrugged. "I know, half of the pleasure for a man is telling the friends about it... "

"And for a woman?" She tought about that.

"Maybe not half of the pleasure. But we talk about it too."

"And how do you talk about it?". I was curious. How do the women talk about sex, about us, among them?

She smiled, looked at the ceiling and started tilting her head, talking in a childish, chirping, really "Asian" tone.

"Oh, you knoow, I have met a maan... he is so nice, amiable, genteel... Nagaku te hadodikku to!"

I smiled. She had said the last words putting her hands at her breast's level, as the fishermen do to show to theirfriend what a fish they had got... She too was showing something she had got, but not a fish...

"Well, not so much 'nagaku'," I said, trying to get her hands closer to each other. She chuckled.

"Don't be humble," she smiled, "you don't need it... "

I took a picture of her with her smile and her hand put that way ("qui habet aures audiendi, audiat", I would have told to my friends: who can get the picture... get it), but nothing kinkier. She dressed up, with no hurry, and posing as an Asian Playboy centerfold girl, every now and then, and I smiled and snorted and applauded, but resisted the temptation to take more pictures. The brain is better than a memory card, at least for those of my generation. I would have just closed my eyes, and I would have seen her body, her eyes, her breast, her sex, and heard her voice, her moans, and felt her smell, her taste, the softness of her body, of her light skin, the heat of her womb around my sex, again and again. With no need to draw out any damned electronic device...

We went out on the street smiling at each other, without walking hand in hand or the likes. No one does it, down there, and as they say, when you're in Rome, do what the Romans do.

"You see," she told me, "On sunday I usually go home, in my hometown, to visit my parents. But today I have found an excuse, because I wanted to be with you... " and then she looked at me, smiling. "To make 'ecchi' with you... " she wispered in my ear.

"Were you so sure we would have done it?" I wondered. She nodded, smiling again.

"Yes. I knew you wanted me, though you didn't dare to say that... And I wanted you!"

Even when we got to my subway station, there was no fuss. We bowed to each other, the same inclination (I was "copying" her, and that was fine, since I was not too much older than her). She was smiling, his eyes were a bit low. So it had to be done. I remembered something about judo, but there, among us, it was done a bit carelessly. Judging from the way she nodded, I had done it well, or at least it was not too much ridiculous. Then she waved her hand, climbed on the train on the other side of the platform, and went away.

I often wondered what feels a woman, after having made love. After she has been embraced, taken, penetrated, flooded by a man. A man she has chosen, for a night or for life. 'I can feel it inside yet', she had said. Inside, in the belly, in the womb. Big, wide, warm and strong. A male into her, beyond any hurdle, any defense. Master of her body, of herself. When all is said and done, when she is all dressed up, down in the street, among the crowd, but she still feels that way, those things... What does she think? Of him, of herself?

Maybe she just remembers, and that's it. She closes her eyes, she feels, remembers, and relaxes. Maybe a bit of moisture in the sex, a smile. At least when it all went well, when she is not disappointed.

I imagined her, sitting in the train, eyes closed, calm, her legs a bit widespread... maybe her sex a bit aching, swollen, wet... the feeling of being still soft, weak, open, penetrated, plowed, filled up... and happy about it... filled up by my sex, by me... a smile, a light smile, lips closed... And the idea, the desire to do it again and again, and again... with me, most likely...

And all around, so many people who thought she was sleeping ...