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.