Sex Trip to Japan

She stopped me with the word "massaji"—she was tiny, no more than 5 feet tall and so thin she must have weighed less than 90 lbs. She had a white top that showed her midriff and a pair of tight jeans that hugged her slim legs and hips. A cel phone, decorated to show her individuality in the way that all young Japanese did, dangled from her belt. I asked in English "how much" and she answered 10,000 yen. Around $90, I calculated. I asked if there was only massage, and she said in halting English, 13,000 yen for "service." She quickly apologized and revised the amount to 13,500, with an endearing shy smile as she struggled with "500."

I nodded and said okay and she took me around the corner and up an elevator, asking me "America?" to which I responded "Yes." This seemed to impress her, as if she didn't meet many Americans. Through the door, she gestured to a man and I paid him the money. She gestured to my shoes, indicating that I should take them off and gave me slippers, beckoning me to follow her to a long hallway lined with curtained booths on each side. The lighting was low, but bright enough that I could see there had been minimal attention paid to the décor. Dingy was probably the best description. As she slid open the curtain to the first booth, I saw a bed, a basket on the floor for my clothing , and a small bedside table with a lubricant dispenser. Handing me a towel, she gestured out back out and said "shower." After I took off my clothes and wrapped the towel around my waist, she led me to a small stall where I rinsed, cleaning off the sweat and humidity of the day. This seemed so much more hygienic and civilized than North America.

When I returned to the room, she had changed into a nightgown, and after gesturing for me to lie down on my stomach, she covered my back with towels and straddled me to give me my massage, starting with my shoulders and moving down my back. She pressed hard with her fingers, loosening my muscles. When she reached my tailbone, she stood up on the bed and grabbed a bar that hung from the ceiling. She then proceeded to climb on my lower back and use her feet, pushing with her full weight. I heard my spine click as she stepped on each side of it. She danced on my buttocks, then walked sidestepping down each leg, finally pushing down on the bottoms of my upturned feet.

At this point, she climbed off and waved her hands to indicate I should turn over. She went and fetched a small hot towel, which she used on my crotch. The steamed towel made my cock wave to hardness, and she squirted some lubricant on her left hand and began to rub my erection. She smiled at me as she did this, and I marveled at how small her hands were. The tiny fingers made my cock look enormous and swollen beyond its normal size. She had long hair, dyed brown in the style of most young women in Tokyo. Her teeth were small and well shaped, well proportioned as the rest of her pretty face. Chinese music played in the background, the Mandarin lyrics singing about love and loss, and I wondered if she was from China.

Somehow she looked Chinese rather than Japanese, perhaps because her delicate face and petite body wasn't quite like that of the other girls who milled about Shibuya, or perhaps I was jumping to conclusions because I had heard that many of the massage parlor girls were from China, Thailand, or Indonesia. Around her neck, a chain held a tiny cylindrical piece of jewelry, which I realized after a few minutes of watching her was actually a ring—I couldn't quite believe her fingers were tiny enough to wear it, but as I looked back and forth between her neck and the small fingers stroking my cock, I could measure its fit.

As her hands swirled up and down my shaft, polishing the knob at the end of each upstroke, I caressed her legs and her ass, lightly tracing up her waist and her arms to touch her neck and face. She laughed with shyness, perhaps a touch uncomfortable with this gentle intimacy as she pumped my penis. I touched her neck and then slipped my fingers under her bra to tiny her breasts , but she laughed uncomfortably again and shook her head. I smiled and told her she was beautiful. Again she laughed uncomfortably and said thank you. Her ministrations were beginning to entice the familiar yearning in my hips, as I started to tense my legs and thrust my cock upwards through the slick tunnel formed by her fingers.

As my cock swelled in anticipation of coming, my left hand grasped her firm buttocks and squeezed. Long strands of white come jetted out from between her thumb and fingers with each stroke of her hand as I involuntarily thrust a few last times. She swabbed me with tissues and then left to get another hot towel, which she used to gently embrace and clean my crotch. With another shy smile, she finished wiping. She left me to dress, and when I came out of the booth she led me to the elevator. I inquired her name and she said "Kana." She in return asked me how long I was staying, and I said a week. I asked her if she was working tomorrow, and she nodded yes. Leaving the building, I realized I had forgotten to check which floor I had been on. I walked away wanting to come back, perhaps to see her pretty smile again, perhaps because I had found her shyness so disarmingly genuine. Maybe it was all an act, but if it was it worked the proper charm.

After getting back to my room (which involved quite an adventure, since I had missed the last train), I masturbated while thinking about her and came again, surprised that I was still so horny thinking about her that I could come one more time. The last few days remind me of my teenage years, when I could yank myself to four or five orgasms a day. It feels like the sexual urgency of my long ago, being in Japan being constantly titillated by young schoolgirls in short skirted uniforms. At home, I can go a week or even two without masturbating, but here in Tokyo I've been in a perpetual state of horniness. It has made me realize that the more often you come, the more horny you are and the easier it is to get hard again later that day.

The next night I came back to the corner where she had beckoned me with her "massaji" query. She wasn't there, and so I kept wandering the alleyways of Shibuya, browsing a pornographic DVD shop. Plastic cases covered the shelves with photos of young women in school uniforms, smiling innocently—flipping the box revealed a collage of photos of the same girl being fucked in every way, with her look of pained pleasure so starkly different from the prim smile on the cover. Why do Japanese women moan during sex as if they are in pain? It must be that they learn that this is how to express a pleasure that has been forced onto them, coaxed against their will and thus always accompanied by the lashings of shame.

I look for the DVDs that I had bought several days earlier in Akihibara, a pair that each featured a young model having sex with two dogs, and another pair featuring four women being raped. It was a fantasy scene of course, scripted so that each ran the same course of the girl being stalked surrepticiously from afar, and then chased into a dark abandoned area in the woods, where she was violently raped. The acting was surprisingly realistic, with the girls' screams of fear and pain showing none of the faked insincerity of similar pornographic films in North America.

Perhaps too close an attention to detail in the U.S. was not good for business, and a clear indication of rape fantasy opposed to actual rape a necessity in the face of censorship. No such problem existed here in Japan, and I was shocked, and quite turned on, by the violence of the films. One scene showed the girl being tossed and kicked in the dirt, so that by the end her naked body was filthy. Each had prominent moments of actual physical violence, from clothes being torn to strangling and slapping. The slapping was the only part that was less than real, repeated but with little force—if this had been an actual rape the blows assuredly would have been harder. In any case, the humiliation expressed was still shocking—the men (multiple men seemed involved in the rape, although only one actually had sex with the victim) spit on her face and stepped on her breasts, grinding the toes of their shoes and boots on her nipples.

The force of their fingers twisting and pinching nipples and breasts, unlike the face slapping, was full force, and the girl's screams of pain showed little pretense. I had masturbated with a feverish shock to these videos, a little shocked at how excited I was by the violence. Each showed a progress in the rape from full resistance to sobbing resignation on the girl's part, ending with a slow pan away from the limp naked girl crying in shame after the rapist stops fucking her. I wish I had only watched one scene, since watching the same formulaic scene four times with different women seemed to decrease the sense of realism.

There was no diminishing of realistic sex with the pair of dog sex videos. Each was long, and as formulaic as the rape fantasies. The girl rides in a car, answering questions from the pornographer, and then eventually exposing her breasts and pussy and masturbating with a dildo. Next, she appears in a house, where she is introduced to a pair of dogs, one black and one yellow. They lick her face and then her naked body, before she proceeds to suck each dogs purple cock. In a strange irony, the penis of the dog is not blurred out like that of the men in Japanese porn. The women's pussies are still blurred in the dog sex videos, just as they are in all Japanese porn videos, but the scenes of women sucking dogs is oddly more explicit than sex between humans. The porn makers seem to know this, and so they linger on every detail of canine fellatio—the watery squirting pre-orgasmic fluid that shoots out of the veined penises, the frighteningly large knob that marks the dog cocks as so alien from human phalluses.

There is a shocking normalcy to these women having sex with dogs—they seem to genuinely be enjoying having the swollen penises thrust in and out of their cunts (blurred unfortunately). In one video, the women is pregnant, and the shock of seeing a pregnant woman well advanced in term, sucking off one dog then another, and then being fucked by them, is far greater even than the simple shock of seeing a woman have sex with a furry pet. At the end of this video, as the dog thrusts into her from behind, the pregnant woman shouts in pain. The dog is pulled off, and it is uncertain whether she has somehow been hurt, but as the camera focuses on her slimy crotch, we see slowly dripping out of the blurred area of her swollen lips long strands of stringy sperm. Her shout of pain, it turns out, was provoked by the dog's orgasm.

I had bought a fifth video, a series of bukkake scenes with a beautiful Japanese woman, a model named Naomi Hirose. She is haunting, breathtaking, with the telltale dental imperfection that even the most striking of Japanese women always possess. Like a mole, a tooth gone awry seems to be like a beauty mark, a sign of distinction. Compared to bukkake scenes I had watched before, she seemed much more genuine in her enjoyment of sex and of having her face covered by come shot after come shot. Each of the scenes featured over ten men spraying her face with sperm, and unlike the almost boring repetition of masturbating men of most bukkake videos, this one features her giving blowjobs and sucking the cocks between come shots. Another good buy!

As I browse the DVD store, I contemplate purchasing a scatological video that seems from the cover to be putridly disgusting in its graphic portrayal of feces being eaten and drunk. The women bend over bowls full of shit, tasting and seeming to actually swallow, but somehow naked bodies almost completely smeared with dark brown waste feces doesn't really excite me. In fact, I am probably turned off by it.

I leave the DVD store empty-handed, wandering past several places that advertise "systems" where you pay 10,000 or 12,000 yen. Others advertise a "massage" for 3000 yen. I imagine that somehow extra services come on top of that, and although I am intrigued, I am not ready to go inside. A young thin girl approaches me in the alley and asks something in Japanese. I shake my head and indicate I don't understand, saying I speak English, and she smoothly switches her whispered pitch into English, asking if I want sex. I ask how much, and she says 10,000 yen. I nod, and she leads me up the alley, around a bend in the hill, and down stairs into a small waiting area. A TV shows inane Japanese shows, and two men gesture for me to sit down.

The girl asks me to pay them the 10,000 yen, and then they ask me to wait. After giving me a cup of cold tea, they lead me inside a cramped narrow burrow, not really a hall, just a small room divided on both sides into rows of booths with folding closet style doors. This place is much smaller than the massage parlor the night before, and the booths are hardly more than a bed with some room on the side to stand. I can see through the booths with open doors that each contains a waiting girl clothed in a nightgown. I am led to the last booth on the left, and inside is a tall thin girl with a wide smile. She is skinny, with lanky bones, and although she is not bad looking, she is not as pretty as the girl from the night before.

She asks me to undress, and at this place there is a small bag with a rope handle where I am supposed to put my valuables so that I can carry them to the shower. It is a smart touch, since I had been worried the night before whether my wallet was safe in the room while I was showering. I rinse off as I did the night before. She waits for me just outside the shower, ready to hand me my towel and to even dry me off. When we get back to the room, she gives me a massage, much more perfunctory than the elaborate one last night, before turning me over and using her lubricated left hand to rub my penis to hardness. Even without the hot towel treatment that had impressed me the night before, I still get an erection (and despite the fact that I have already masturbated to orgasm twice that day). After she gets me hard, and as I touch her legs and face, she asks me whether I would like her to take her clothes off. This communication, of course, is much less clear than just that, with puzzled looks met by frustrated pantomimes and further lack of clarity.

Finally, after a few minutes of fumbled miscommunication, I discern that she wants another 10,000 yen to take her clothes off. I shake my head and so no. She puts on an act of disappointment and asks why? I say it is too much money. She acts as if she is unhappy, and the hard sell has distracted me enough that I have lost my erection. She listlessly strokes my cock, but without conviction. She starts to try to seduce me into paying more, licking my nipple and kissing me on the lips. She offers 5000, and still I say no, that I don't have the money. She is now in hard sell mode, asking why I don't want her naked, and so finally I agree. She hands me the bag with my wallet and I pull out 1000s one at a time. I only have four bills, and so I say I only have 4000. Of course, she sees I have another two 10,000 bills, but I close the wallet and return it to the bag. She seems to accept that she is only going to get another 4000 and takes the money out to her handlers.

When she returns, she pulls her nightgown over her head and I am now happy that I paid the extra. Her body is typical of one of the three main body types of Japanese women. There are those Japanese women who are short and squat, with tubular legs and chubby faces. The joke is that these women have calves and ankles like a daikon, the fat Japanese radish. The second common type is the tiny waif, petite like a doll and weighing less than 100 lbs, like the girl from the night before. Attached to a pretty face, this type is the cutest and looks the sexiest when perched on top of your cock—there is nothing as stirring as seeing your cock look monstrous as it thrusts upwards into such a tiny girl. The girl tonight is of the third type, tall and lanky with square shoulders and a long neck. She has boyish hips, but her thin waist gives her enough of a curve so that she is shapely rather than masculine. Her belly button is flush with a flat stomach—there is virtually no fat on her, and her long legs are sexy in a languid way that the petite Japanese girls can't achieve.

As she strips her panties and bra I smile in appreciation. Now that the negotiation is over, she acts happy with me again, and as she sits naked on the bed and strokes my cock, I instantly get hard. She licks my nipples and tongues my ear. At the same time, I lick her nipples and begin fondling her cunt. I am surprised that she is not shaved, and in fact she doesn't even seem to have trimmed her bush. Her slim hips swivel around as she puts a condom on my erection. I am even more surprised after she takes me in her mouth when she straddles my face and lowers her pussy to my mouth. North American prostitutes almost never allow cunnilingus, and I am not sure I would really want to go down on most of the hookers I have been with there—they don't seem overly hygienic. With her tiny cunt proffered before me, however, I find I am eager to partake.

I hungrily lap at her clitoris, before reaching up and licking her rubbery asshole. Parting her anus with my tongue, I rim her, still concentrating on how it feels as she deep throats me. Going back to licking her cunt, I deep kiss her lips, sticking my tongue deep into her gash. I hungrily graze between her pussy and her asshole, feeling my horniness get more intense. As I feel myself climbing my way to climax, I reach my right hand down to the back of her head and begin pushing it down on my cock in rhythm with my now thrusting hips. I feel a violence surge through me, and I begin to shove my cock upwards with great force, slamming her head down hard at the same time as each thrust up. I hear wet choking sounds come from her throat, but that only make me want to fuck her face even harder.

For 30 seconds, I am ramming her mouth as if it is her pussy, using my arm to guide her bobbing head. I come in several hard spurts and she continues to milk me even as my thrusting subsides. As I relax back into the bed, she climbs off and grabs tissue to clean me. She asks me to shower again, and when I return she asks if I want some more massage. I say yes and she straddles my back and gives me several more minutes of hand massage, as well as standing up and using her feet like the girl last night. She is too heavy to give me the delicate walking on my legs and back that I received from the other girl, but I'm still satisfied. While I dress, she showers, returning to me with a smile. I ask her where she is from, and she says a place name I don't recognize. I ask her if it is around here, and she says yes. She thanks me as I leave, and as I climb the stairs back up to the alley, I realize I have forgotten to ask her name...