Yayoi

Yayoi and I were staying in a simple room, similar to the really low-budget hotel chains. There was a bunk bed, with the bottom bunk a bit bigger than the top, intended to fit two people potentially, or one very big person. There was a desk, a chair, and a very small bathroom.

We piled our stuff in the one corner of the room that wasn't taken up by a piece of furniture. Yayoi grabbed some things and went to the bathroom, closing the door. I took off my shoes and lay down on the bed. It sagged, but not as badly as your typical pull-out bed at least.

After five minutes or so, Yayoi emerged, dressed in a Japanese school uniform. She had none of the baby fat that a lot of the actual Japanese school girls have, and I suddenly felt like I had been transported into a green room in the backstage area for an AKB48 show.

Yayoi had another playing card in between two of her fingers. She handed it to me. School girl. She then promptly walked out of the room and closed the door. I wondered where she was going, but knew I wasn't supposed to ask.

Two minutes later there was a knock on the door. I got up, walked the two steps from the bed to the door, and opened it. Yayoi cocked her head, just like one of the women in AKB48.

"Sensei," she said in a high, cute voice. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all," I said. "Come sit down."

I held out my hand, offering her the one seat in the room. I sat on the windowsill, figuring if I sat on the bed it might be more awkward for a school girl to deal with.

She looked a bit troubled. "Is everything OK?" I asked.

"Well, it's no problem either way. But things are hectic at home, and I was wondering if I could just sleep here at the school, in your room. If you wouldn't mind. I don't want to be a bother." She paused. "I don't snore," she added, hopefully.

I took a deep breath. This role play business was harder than I thought it might be. Maybe just because it was our second night together, but I just wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her hard, now, and dispense with the formalities. Another deep breath. Delaying gratification is better, I thought. Stay in your role.

"You're welcome to stay with me," I said.

Yayoi's face immediately lit up, and she started jiggling up and down in her seat slightly, smiling broadly.

"I'm sure there are other rooms that don't have anyone in them, if you'd rather have your own room," I added.

Her face immediately turned to pouting, and she looked down toward the floor.

"But you'd rather have company?" I asked.

Yayoi looked at me silently for a few seconds, and then, holding her gaze, said quietly, "please."

The way she said the word left the meaning very ambiguous.

"Would you like the top bunk or the bottom?" I asked.

She paused again. "Please," she said again, quietly. "Yours." Now her squeaky voice was barely audible.

She seemed tense, ready to cry if I might reject her, I thought. I stepped toward her and held her hand. She stood up, facing me. I put my arms around her. She hugged me back tightly, and we stood there for a long time.

I lay down on the bed, inviting Yayoi with hand gestures to join me, which she did, quickly. She lay there, looking at me expectantly.

"Should we go to sleep?" I asked.

Yayoi looked like she was trying to maintain a more stoic expression this time. "If you want," she said.

"What would you rather do?" I asked.

Yayoi looked at my face intensely for a moment, before saying, "anything," and she emphasized each syllable quietly but carefully, as if to make sure I knew just how much she meant it.

"Anything?" I said, seeking clarification.

"Anything you want," she explained, averting her eyes from mine, looking down toward my body.

"How old are you?" I asked.

Again she emphasized each syllable for emphasis. "I won't tell anyone," she said, looking straight in my eyes again. "Please," she said again, in a slightly pouty tone of voice that seemed to say, if you don't do whatever you want to me I'll be really sad.

I decided at this point that I could start giving instructions as requested. She's a high school student, I reminded myself. Take things slow. No matter how eager she seems to be, she's probably very nervous. Indeed, she seemed tense, I noticed, as I had that thought. Then I wondered if the tension was real or fake. Was it actually sexual desire that Yayoi was channeling into a look of nervousness? Or was she just basically totally relaxed, and pretending to be tense?

I wasn't just wondering idly. It was also that as things progressed, I felt more and more like we were these people we were pretending to be. At the same time, I found myself holding back from jumping all the way in, scared off by the intensity of the taboo nature of the scenario, in my peculiar head, anyway. But what an enticing scenario it was...

It suddenly occurred to me to make sure the blinds in front of our window were closed. They were.

"Stand in front of me and take off all of your clothing, one piece at a time," I instructed.

Yayoi gasped, and I thought maybe it was a real gasp. Was she not expecting such instructions? She dutifully stood up and took off her tights, then her sweater. At that point it was just her blouse and skirt. She paused, looking at me.

"Everything?" she asked. She paused. I was going to say something, I'm not sure what, when she said, "I've never been naked in front of a man since I was very little."

Without waiting for me to tell her that she didn't have to take her clothing off if she'd rather not, Yayoi turned around and pulled her blouse off. She then started fiddling with her bra strap, with her back turned towards me.

"Face me," I instructed.

She turned around, continuing to take her bra off, letting it drop to the floor. She was breathing heavily.

"Good girl," I said, which caused her to gasp again immediately. This seemed real. "You like to be a good girl, eh?" I asked. She gasped again, gently nodding affirmatively, as she pulled down her skirt and faced me in nothing but her tight panties. She paused, and then removed her last article of clothing.

"Lay down," I instructed, offering her the space in the bed beside me.

Yayoi lay down on her back, her breasts rising and falling noticeably with her pronounced breathing. I touched her face, which seemed to be slightly ticklish for her. I kissed her briefly, and touched her all over the front of her body, her breasts, stomach, thighs, her pussy, which was wet and glistening. She lay still as I touched her, tense.

I rolled over on top of her, propping myself up with my elbows. Her legs were stiffly spread out to either side of her. I lifted them up and out, and Yayoi kept them in place after that.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just stay like that."

"I've never done this before," she said. Such a cliché line, among so many others, probably. But it was spoken with complete conviction.

I slowly pushed inside of her, a little bit at a time, until after a while I was all the way in. I stayed there. Her stomach, her pussy, everything seemed to be pulsing, tense, tight. I could feel her heart beat with my cock, easily, clearly.

"How does that feel?" I asked.

"It hurts. And it feels so good. I had no idea." Almost exactly the same three short sentences I remember my lover uttering years before, who was actually in the midst of being deflowered at the time. Maybe that's what Yayoi said the first time, too.

"I'll move in and out slowly, but if it hurts too much, tell me."

She's a virginal high school student, I thought. If I'm to be a decent deflowerer, I shouldn't fuck her too hard. I wanted to, but I was also suddenly enjoying what seemed like the very clear knowledge that Yayoi desperately wanted me to move a bit faster and harder, too.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes, really good," she answered. Nothing about the pain this time. She was hoping that by not mentioning the pain, maybe I'd go faster and harder. I kept on moving slowly, wondering if she'd ask me to move faster if I didn't do it. She didn't. She just became more tense.

"I guess if you've never had sex before, you've never had an orgasm this way either?" I asked.

"Sometimes I touch myself," she said, vaguely.

I started moving a bit faster and harder. About the pace that had made her come repeatedly the night before. Her body suddenly seemed electrified, like every cell in it was now made aware that the proper fucking conditions had been created for orgasm to occur.

Yayoi was tense, and clearly on her way to an orgasm, but not there yet, when a look of pain appeared on her face. She was wincing when I went all the way in, but it was a bit random, not necessarily correlated to how hard I was pushing into her, which was not all that hard. She was faking it.

I must have been moving too fast and hard for what Yayoi's version of a school girl could reasonably endure. She was sticking to her role, admirably. It always seems especially admirable when sticking to your role means added hardship.

I slowed down. "Is that better?" I asked.

Yayoi pretended to relax a little. "Yes," she lied.

I moved slowly, enjoying every second of it, enjoying Yayoi's lean body in my arms, her soft breasts and hard nipples pressed against my chest. Yayoi wasn't feigning relaxation very well anymore. Her breaths were getting short and quick. I started moving faster and harder.

Her breathing quickened more, and she moved her hips a little so that I could go in deeper. I could feel that she was going to come soon if I kept it up. Then she seemed to remember who she was, and that same fake look of pain crossed her face. I slowed down right away.

"Are you getting sore?" I asked.

"Maybe a little," she replied.

"A different position might help," I said.

"What should I do?" she said, not missing a beat. If she was frustrated that I was proposing to move her into a position in which she might be unable to come, she hid it completely.

"Just relax," I replied, moving her pliant leg around to put her on her side, with me above her.

I pushed in so deep. She winced, this time for real.

"Is that better?" I asked.

"It's better if you like it," she replied. "I want to do anything you like."

I almost came when she said that, and had to stop moving, and just focus on breathing. I rolled around so that she was on her back and I was to her side, and I fucked her slowly, staying on the edge, feeling like there was something glowing inside my head.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, perhaps mistaking my sluggishness for a lack of interest. "Can I use my mouth?"

"Have you ever done that before?" I inquired.

"A little," she said.

I pushed inside her deeply one more time before coming out and laying on my back. Yayoi perched herself on top of me, first letting me feel her very wet pussy on my belly before making her way down to my cock, and putting it in her mouth with far greater competence than I've ever experienced from a supposed teenager. I put my leg between her legs and felt her rub her pussy up against my leg, yearning for more.

"Do you want me to come in your mouth?" I asked.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth just once from then until I came inside it, to utter one tense, quiet word. "Please."

5. In hospital

After an early breakfast at the folk school with the kids, Yayoi and I went for a walk.

"You really are mean," she said. "I figured from your writing that you might be. But you are."

"You were kind of encouraging it," I said. "But I could have given you a break eventually... Should I be less mean?"

Yayoi paused to think for a moment, before saying, "what I'd like..." Again she paused, apparently looking for the right words. "What I'd like, what would please me the most, if that's what you're asking...?"

She looked at me for confirmation before continuing. "What I'd like is just to give myself to you completely, at least when we're together, and for you to have me." With a brief, sultry look that said she knew she was sexy enough that I'd be likely to take her complete or incomplete, she added, "if it pleases you."

"And so you're giving yourself to me, in a different form each night?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway.

"That's the idea. Do you approve, my darling...?"

I surprised both of us with the volume of and enthusiasm in my voice when I said, "I do."

We walked in a loop in the forest, passing the quaint little train station in the woods that looks like it might have been taken from a Mr Rogers set, if Mr Rogers had a higher budget, talking about the lifestyles of the Danes and other random aspects of life on Earth.

When we got back to the car, Yayoi instructed: "the island of Fyn, driver."

Fyn, I knew, is the middle island of the three main land masses that make up the country of Denmark, which contains the small city of Odense.

"Where on Fyn are we headed?" I asked.

"The sanitarium."

It turned out Yayoi had read something I wrote about a tour of Denmark several years ago during which I played in some random locations, including a small school located in a building that used to be a place where people recovered, or more often died, from consumption. Yayoi had gotten in touch with the headmaster there, who happily agreed to put us up for the night in one of the many usually-vacant rooms in the building.

The idea of the Danish medication establishment back in the day was that people suffering from consumption just needed fresh, cold, wet air out in the coastal countryside of this frigid northern European island. The whole thing backfired spectacularly. But the sanitarium they built was a lovely structure, and of course reputed to be thoroughly haunted.

We arrived at the place after driving miles down some very narrow roads far, by Danish standards anyway, from the highway. It was as I remembered it years before, a very institutional-looking, cavernous stone structure. If they had central heating in this place, I thought, the cost would probably make using such a large building pointless on the financial front. But the bedrooms were unheated. Better to recover from consumption that way, apparently. Though my favorite combination is a cold warm with a warm duvet.

Our hosts showed us to our room. The ceilings were so high, and tapered to a point at the top, so the highest point was shaded and impossible to see, in the dim lighting the room was equipped with.

It was only late afternoon by the time we arrived, but we put out stuff down and I lay down on our bed, which was small. In much of Europe, they haven't discovered the queen-size bed yet (forget about king size). Even in many of the hotel rooms.

Yayoi went to the bathroom and came out a minute later with a different outer garment. The light jacket she had been wearing was replaced now by a long, white, unmistakably doctor-looking outfit. Yayoi stood above me and reached into her new shirt's pocket. She withdrew a card, and handed it to me. Sex therapist, it said.

"You're the sex therapist, clearly," I said, redundantly.

"Yes. Good to meet you. From now until tomorrow morning, you've booked my services. We can hopefully explore any issues related to sex that may be troubling you, or just exploring how to make your love life more fulfilling. Shall we get started?"

She smiled and tilted her head as she said "get started," tossing her hair around in what seemed like an undoctor-like move, but then she recovered her professional demeanor, looking a bit more self-consciously serious after that. She suddenly seemed to realize that a doctor should have a notebook, and I discovered that the bulge in one of her pockets involved a small notebook and a pen. This doctor was prepared.

"Can you tell me a bit about your sex life?" she asked, as she opened her pad of paper and prepared to take notes.

"I guess it's good." I wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Like," she started, "what is it that you desire from your sex life, and how does that compare to what actually happens? Are you married?"

I saw where she was going now. "Yes," I replied. "I'm home at least half the time, when I'm not on tour. So most of the sex I have in life is certainly with my wife. She's very loving and generous in bed."

"Is 'loving and generous' what you're ideally looking for in the sack?" Her mild Japanese accent when using the phrase "the sack" was adorable. "What turns you on in bed most?" she continued.

For better or worse, this was a line of questioning I didn't need to think too much about, having done a fair bit of that already.

"Loving and generous is a very positive thing," I said. "That's definitely one of those big turn-ons for me. The other things that really turn me on might be somewhat in contradiction with that one."

"Such as...?"

"Pain, obedience, denial."

"Do you feel guilty about these evidently harmful desires? About your desire to hurt people you love?"

"Yes."

"In kink terminology you're tendencies would probably make you a 'dom.' Have you ever met a 'sub,' who enjoys these tendencies of yours as much as you do?"

At this point I started wondering if we were really talking, or if we were playing roles. Was Yayoi internally oriented around my peculiar sexual tendencies? One of the many things I didn't yet know about this marvelous woman.

"I have, yes," I replied.

"Is your wife one of them?"

"No."

"Is that difficult?"

"Not particularly. I have a good time with her. I have to be careful not to hurt her. Some sexual positions over the years have become off-limits. She gets less adventurous over time. But she's still the best cocksucker in town."

Yayoi wrote something down in her notebook. "I think for tonight we should explore some of the things you don't get from your wife. Perhaps first denial. What kind of denial turns you on?"

"Bringing a woman right to the edge of orgasm, and then not letting her come. Watching her do that to herself repeatedly. That's the basic idea."

"Shall we start with that?" Yayoi said, putting down her pen and notepad, and standing up.

Yayoi turned the chair around to face me, lying on the bed. Keeping her doctor's coat on, she took off her tights, and then her panties, to reveal her smooth, tan nakedness, from her hips to midway down her thighs, where her long black leggings ended. She sat down on the chair, legs wide open. She licked her fingers and started touching her clit.

After a minute, as her breath quickened, she asked, "do you like this?"

"Very much."

Yayoi jumped a little when I said "very much." She clearly liked approval from me, I noted.

"You're very, very good."

With that she jumped again. A minute later she was suddenly very tense, and the breathing turned to moaning. As suddenly as that began, she pulled her hand away from her clit, and bit her fingers. She was gasping a bit while biting her fingers. Short intakes of breath.

"I almost went over the edge," she admitted.

"Did you want to come?" I asked.

"Do you like to know that?" Yayoi shot back, regaining her professional air, though with her legs still spread apart in front of me.

"Yes, it turns me on."

"Does it turn you on if the woman really just wanted to hit the edge and stop?" she asked, perhaps rhetorically.

"I don't believe any woman actually wants to do that," I replied.

"I see," she said. And, legs still spread apart, she opened her notebook and jotted something quick down there.

"Did you want to come?" I asked again, remembering the original question, just barely.

"It doesn't matter what I want. I'm a professional." She paused for emphasis. "But yes, I did."