Yayoi

I walked over to one of the computers and found a recording of an AKB48 song. As I did this, Yayoi quickly made sure all the cameras were pointed toward the couch from their different positions, and turned each one of them on. I hadn't expected this. I looked at her quizzically.

"You'll want to review the footage, no?" she asked.

It was hard for me to function momentarily. Knowing the trust involved with Yayoi allowing this film to even exist in any form, for private viewing or no, was making me melt. In the age of revenge porn, a lot of folks might think again about such a move. I was more enamored of Yayoi with each passing day, that was for sure.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

I pressed "play" on the computer.

What happened next was hard for me to anticipate. It was amazing. Yayoi had all of these ridiculously sexy moves, the sorts I had seen regularly on music videos. I supposed she had seen them on music videos, too, but unlike me, she had clearly spent time learning the moves herself.

With subtle moves of her hips and belly, tilting her head in different ways, while mouthing the words to the song, she took off one bit of clothing at a time. As she sang the second chorus, "I want you, I love you, I need you," she took off her bra and began caressing her own breasts. By the third chorus, she had moved down to her skirt. By the end of the song, she was on her knees on the couch, mostly naked, looking up at me demurely.

"Very impressive," I said, when I had caught my breath again. "Did you study dance at some point?"

"No," she giggled, authentically I think. "I just spent a lot of time watching J-pop videos and copying what the women were doing. I had a mirror next to the TV." She looked slightly embarrassed by this admission.

"What else did you do in front of that mirror?" I asked.

Yayoi didn't say anything. Perhaps she was blushing, but her lush olive skin had too much lovely pigment in it for me to be sure.

"Now take off your panties," I instructed.

Yayoi put her legs together, slid her panties down to her feet, and then spread her legs apart, sitting on the couch, facing me as I stood in front of her next to one of the cameras, and looked up at me, awaiting my next instruction.

"Now caress your body. Everywhere within reach of your hands, except your clit."

She started moving her hands along her sides, then up her stomach, circling her breasts, playing with her nipples. Eventually moving her hands down to her thighs, putting a finger into her pussy, being careful not to accidentally touch her clit in the process.

"Now touch your clit."

Her fingers moved right away to her clit, and she was moving them fairly vigorously. It was clear from the movement as well as from the moisture beneath her fingers that Yayoi was fairly hot by now. I wondered if she enjoyed this as much as I did. Her breathing was speeding up after a bit, and she was moving her pelvis in little circles as she touched herself.

"Let's make an edging video," I said. "There aren't enough good ones."

She looked at me, searching my face for more information.

"If you're about to come, stop touching your clit, and play with your breasts instead," I explained.

She nodded. A minute later, her fingers sped up faster and she pulled them away, clenching her legs together, with a pained look on her face. Her hands and arms were shaking in the air, like they wanted to go toward her clit, but she wasn't letting them do that. It was several seconds before she seemed to remember that she was supposed to touch her breasts, which she then began to do, this time squeezing her nipples hard in the process.

Which gave me an idea. I rummaged through Yayoi's suitcase and found the little black leather bag where she kept her vibrator and other things, including nipple clamps I had told her she should have.

"They're nice ones," I observed.

"I'm glad you approve," she said in the cutest voice she could muster.

I handed them to her. "Put these on," I instructed.

She put one of them on her nipple. The look on her face said it hurt too much. She squeezed the clamp again and repositioned it, so it didn't squeeze her nipple in the same place. This seemed to be marginally more bearable, though still clearly uncomfortable. She put the clamp on her other nipple, placing it more carefully than the last one, more slowly releasing the pressure.

"Was it easier to put it on more gently at first like that?" I asked.

Yayoi's voice sounded strained and a bit tense. "No. It was like getting into very cold water slowly. It's better to just jump in. It's better now." She smiled, though her eyes were watering up.

"Touch yourself," I instructed.

She quickly moved her hand to her clit, as if she had been quietly awaiting the command. She touched her clit eagerly, hungrily.

"Does it distract you from the pain in your nipples?" I asked.

"Yes," she said emphatically.

"Stop before you come," I said.

She frowned, as she kept touching her clit at a faster pace. Then the frown turned to a look of shock as she pulled her hand away. Again her hands shook in the air in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to go, paralyzed by conflicts of interest. Then they moved to her breasts, found the clamps, and pulled them upward.

It seemed like she felt the pain in her nipples both there and between her legs, which in any case she once again clamped together.

"Good," I assured her. "Now remove the clamps."

She did. They had turned her nipples from rounded to flat, and they did not start to return to their normal shape right away. She involuntarily sighed with relief, and then smiled at me, as if her sigh had caught her by surprise.

"Now, I'll sit behind you on the couch," I explained. "You ride me, facing the camera, so the viewers will mostly see your body and my cock in your pussy. They don't want to see the rest of the guy who's fucking you. For the most part, the viewers are straight men."

"I'm impressed with your analysis," she quipped, momentarily sounding more the pedagog than the porn actor. But I'm sure a lot of pedagogs double as porn actors, come to think of it.

I took off my belt and pulled down my pants most of the way, sitting behind Yayoi on the couch. She straddled me, facing away from me, toward two of the cameras, as she slid herself onto my dick, which by this time in the proceedings was in no need of any more foreplay.

Yayoi went deep, and moved around while I was all the way inside her, trying to find a way to push me inside her more deeply. It felt glorious. Though remembering my role as director, I couldn't have this kind of thing going on for too long.

"This feels great but it might not be doing so much for the viewers," I explained. "They want to see more action. Like if you're moving up and down, and they can see my dick going in and out. As it is, with me all the way inside you, they don't even know if I'm actually inside you at all, or if you're faking it. They can't see my dick."

"Like this?" she asked, as she began moving up until only the tip of my cock was inside her, and then sliding down until you couldn't see it, and then coming back up again the same way.

"Exactly. As you keep going like that, speed up, and come down harder. Play with your breasts as you do that."

She did as instructed, whimpering a bit as she did.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Can you come this way?"

"No."

"As you speed up your movements, then, when it seems like a good time to climax, let's see a convincing fake orgasm then," I instructed.

Yayoi faked a fairly shattering orgasm, which had her trembling and gasping very convincingly.

"Good," I said approvingly. "Next, you eat me. I'll move over this way." I moved to the edge of the couch, so one of the cameras had a good view of my cock, in a way that looked like Yayoi's head might not get in the way of it too much. "Now you come over this way." I positioned Yayoi's head above me.

"As you eat me," I continued instructing, "look into the camera a lot."

Yayoi engorged her mouth with my cock, gazing into the camera for a while, before pulling it out most of the way and engorging her mouth again. She went on like this quite a while, driving me to distraction.

"Touch yourself," I instructed. She continued eating me with just as much dedication as she began with, while moving her fingers in circles on her clit.

"Spread your legs so that camera can see between them," I instructed, as she complied.

She pulled her mouth off of me briefly to ask a question. "Should I come?"

"No."

She pulled her hand off of her clit and kept on eating me until I came in her mouth.

"I should have come for the camera. That's what they do," I said.

Yayoi looked a bit frantic.

"I think you'll make a good actor," I assured her.

"Good," she said, seeming like that might not have been exactly the message she was hoping for.

"Now," I said, pausing for emphasis, "you look into that camera, and touch yourself."

"Until I come?" she asked.

"Do you want to come?" I asked.

She paused, thinking. "I just want to do what I'm supposed to do," she lied.

I waited to reply, watching her touch herself more excitedly by the second.

"Come," I instructed.

Within twenty seconds of my command, this time her couch-shattering orgasm was real, and the sigh that followed it was much more pronounced than the last one.

8. Home

"Now we go home," Yayoi said as she got in the car.

"Home?" I was momentarily confused.

"Copenhagen. We go to my apartment."

I suddenly realized that I hadn't actually seen where Yayoi lives yet. I was looking forward to it. Our travels around Denmark had been wonderful, but somehow even more exhausting than touring, even though I only had one actual gig of any kind.

It was a meditative drive across Denmark, across the two big bridges, across the windy stretches of ocean, and eventually into the densely-populated, cosmopolitan city of Copenhagen, where much of the country's population dwells.

We got into the Norrebro neighborhood, which has gone through many transformations over the years, from a working class neighborhood to ground zero for the punk squatter movement that had its heyday in the 1980's, to more of an upwardly-mobile hipster neighborhood today. We found parking, and walked down the side streets, past the cafe named after a Colombian drug lord, where the local drug dealers hang out during their off time.

We dined at a little Greek restaurant nearby, before walking to the building Yayoi lived in, and up five flights of creaky wooden stairs. She found her keys and unlocked the big brown wooden door, and we went inside.

It was a small place, a little living room, a tiny kitchen, and a bedroom about half the size of the living room, mainly with a bed in it.

"Welcome to my place. Would you like tea?" Yayoi asked me.

I never drink tea, but I couldn't say no. After a few minutes, Yayoi brought two cups of tea out to the living room. We sat on her little couch together, and talked about what we each had planned for the coming weeks. I'd be leaving the next day, with gigs booked in various parts of Germany next. Tomorrow I'd be going back across those windswept bridges, and then heading south toward Flensburg, rather than north toward Aarhus.

As we sat there with the steaming cups of tea, Yayoi reached into her purse and pulled out a card. Yayoi. She handed it to me.

"Is this mine?" I asked, somewhat provocatively I suppose.

She smiled. "Keep it. Bring it back next time you're in town, and we'll see. But as long as you give me advance warning, so I can clear up my busy social schedule..." She cleared her throat emphatically, and paused, looking vulnerable. "The answer will be 'yes.'"

I was probably expecting some kind of reserved dodge of my fairly blunt inquiry, but that's not what I got back.

She put down her tea, and buried her face in my chest, inhaling as she did.

"What do I smell like?" I asked.

"You smell good. Manly, for sure, but in a particular way, like, you. You smell like you. And I like you. And your smell."

We watched the evening news together. Not very romantic, perhaps, but somehow watching much of the world out there in what appeared to be a state of chaos and disorder made the couch and the woman on it seem that much more of a haven to me.

"I normally sleep in pajamas," Yayoi announced as we were getting ready for bed. "When I sleep alone."

"But the men object when you're not sleeping alone?" I asked.

She just looked at me as she took off all of her clothing, standing naked in front of me, shivering a bit.

"But it's cold," she complained.

"Get under the covers," I said, as I did so myself, and made room in Yayoi's bed for Yayoi to join me, which she did.

She burrowed in close to me, and we stayed still like that for several minutes, as our body heat warmed up the bed beneath us and the down comforter above us.

Once she was all warmed up and bear a little exposure to the air, I started exploring her body with my lips, relishing each mound and each crevice, the soft parts and the bony parts and the lean, muscular parts.

When I pushed inside of her, she was already wet. We kissed deeply as I moved in and out of her very welcoming vagina. It was just slow and close like that, both of us lost in a world of affection, for a long time, I guess a couple hours. Eventually we both fell asleep, completely entwined as we were.

In the morning, after a painfully lingering good-bye, I went down the stairs and out to the car, and drove back west across the little country, trying to figure out when I could manage to work in another visit to Copenhagen.

*****

I'd be really interested in any and all feedback. Really working lately on improving writing skills. Thank you.