Hello Japan

This is the true story of my trip to Japan. Only the names have been eliminated to protect the not-so-innocent.

Ah, but there's so much more to tell. Thinking to have a clove and write in this journal before bedtime, I ran into the man with whom I had spoken the night before. Instead of a crowd this time, it was just him. I had a lot to say about my afternoon's events, and he seemed eager to listen. We fell to chatting, and I eventually closed the journal, having written nothing but the date. We talked all about our experiences in Japan. I told him about how shy I was in the public showers. Eventually, we started talking about how we had each been dumped right before our trip. This led to a discussion about relationships, and I somehow found myself talking about my "lifestyle".

"Um," I started, "do the letters 'BDSM' mean anything to you?"

I was incredibly shocked when he nodded and said that he was familiar with it. This was the first person I'd found who knew anything about it on this whole trip. So we continued talking, and he expounded on the importance and difficulty of finding a good master. He asked how involved I was in the scene, and I explained that it's the only kind of relationship I'm at all interested in.

I went on to tell him about how awkward it is for me to bring up that sort of subject in a relationship which is just starting. I know I have to, but it's always difficult and sometimes results in a parting. He asked if that was why my last boyfriend left, but I said no. Half joking, I added "The worst thing, though, about being dumped right before this trip is that; I've been carrying this heavy backpack around for two weeks and I know I won't be getting a backrub anytime soon." He smiled, sympathized, and kindly offered to rub my shoulders. I gladly agreed and we moved to a couch in the lobby of the youth hostel, taking the ashtray with us into the non-smoking area. (not the worst crime of the night) He positioned me in front of him and started to softly massage my sore muscles. His hands felt warm and very strong, but my dress was preventing what I knew would feel best - his skin.

I was feeling bold. It was my last night in Japan, I knew it was now or never. "Actually," I started, "this would work much better without the dress." In a flash it was up and over my head, tossed on the coffee table.

An appreciative "Wow" made me blush. He bade me to lay down on the couch and I stretched out thankfully, it had been a long day (including an earthquake) and felt good to lay down. I gave a pleasant little shudder as his hands touched me. I could hear his heavy breathing as he continued to gently rub my back. I sighed, relaxed, and enjoyed his touch. He continued down my shoulders to my ribcage, and to the small of my back. Then lightly, he dragged his nails down my skin.

"That feels good," I said timidly, "you can do it harder if you want..." Obliging, he dug his nails in harder, though not as hard as I really wanted. I was too embarrassed and afraid of making this guy think I was crazy to ask him for more. But even his nails barely marking me made me flush with pleasure, and finding the courage bred from opportunity's door threatening to close, I declared "You know, this would be much easier without the bra." Sitting up on my knees, I pulled off the undergarment and placed it on the couch.

"You can't do that!" he exclaimed. Shrugging, I said I saw nothing wrong about it.

He must have decided that he really didn't either, because he began to caress my stomach and thighs, flattering me with compliments about my skin and curves. I dropped my eyes, embarrassed at being in the most strange situation of kneeling on the couch in a Japanese youth hostel reception room in the middle of the night in front of a huge window with a man to whom I felt some strange pull. Sensing my uneasiness, he broke the silence. "Please, lie down." Smiling, I again stretched my body out on the couch which, due to my short stature, gave me plenty of room to lay flat and extend my arms above my head. This was the position in which he placed me, gently taking hold of my wrists and moving them. Then, laughing, he loosely bound them with my bra saying "Ok, are you ready?" I giggled in response. The bra soon fell off, but I kept my hands crossed and my arms straight.

He resumed rubbing my back, harder than before. I moaned softly as he worked his fingers into my flesh. He continued to sigh poetic words and I could do nothing but lay there in grinning rapture. He called me an angel, a doll, and I couldn't help but give into this fantasy of romance come to life. I lay there, getting drunk on the experience. Suddenly, I felt his breath on the back of my neck. I lay still in anticipation. Lightly, he brought his lips to my skin, sending shivers through it and making me sigh. He continued to trace his fingertips along my body and place light kisses on my back.

"May I...." he began "just kiss your foot?" A bit unsure of how my ticklish feet would handle this new adventure, but unable to resist, I agreed and kicked off a sock. As soon as my foot was bare his hands were on it. He brought it upward and sure enough, began to kiss my foot. I found myself extremely grateful that I had just taken a shower before coming out to the reception room. He ran his tongue along my instep and even took my toes in his mouth. His nails dug deeply into my hips as he bit down on my foot. I gasped and struggled to hold my leg still instead of jerking it away.

I knew I had to be quiet, we were surrounded by bedrooms, each with four people in them. I had to hold my breath and bite my lip to keep from crying out. My back arched, lifting my body towards him, and my fingers dug into the couch. His claws and fangs sank in further, and I nearly cried from the strain of hushing my moans.

As though to encourage my continued silence, I felt a series of swift slaps thudding into the one piece of clothing I still wore - my panties. He shoved them aside, roughly spreading me and shoving his thick fingers inside of me. I couldn't stop a few small screams from escaping as burning pleasure overcame me. I threw back my head, gasping and pushing myself toward his hand.

Pulling me up on all fours, he began to press himself against me. I could fill how hard he was as he roughly drew my body to him. His hand again came down against my panties and a muted slap rang throughout the hallways. With every successive blow, my fear of being caught in this strange position grew. Grasping my ankle and bending my knee so that my foot was in between my body and his cock, he continued to slam into me, pulling my hips backward.

He grew more fierce each time he pounded his body against mine, and I was forced up onto my hands and knees to maintain balance. I shut my eyes and focused on smothering the sharp gasps I couldn't repress.

Suddenly, he released his grip on my waist and seemed to disappear, leaving me trembling on all fours. In an instant, his hand was between my thighs roughly clawing at the delicate skin. I desperately tugged my panties down to my bent knees, longing for the touch of his skin. His fingers felt dry and thick as he slid them inside me. He quickly pumped them in and out of me, and I felt every muscle in my body tense as I came furiously.

Collapsing forward onto my stomach, I lay, sweating, on the pleather couch. I heard him settle on the ground beside me. Gentle hands tugged my panties back into position, then softly stroked my hair.

It was then that the soft slapping of slippers on the hallway floor could be faintly heard. I looked up to him in terror, what if it was security? Or perhaps one of the members of my travel group? I was frozen with fear, but he was quick to react. Placing a hand on the back of my neck, he pushed my head down into the couch. I was hidden from sight by anyone walking through the lobby, as long as they didn't notice my reflection in the huge window. Realizing this possibility, he hastily draped my dress over my naked back. Contemplating his work, he leaned down and whispered "You look like sushi!" I covered a giggle with my hand, trying to maintain the necessary silence.

I lay, breathing softly as possible, in anticipation until I heard what seemed to be a friendly french greeting. The two conversed for a little bit, and I picked up on small bits of the dialogue. It seemed innocuous, and I sighed in relief. Settling himself again on the floor, my friend watched as the stranger attempted to make use of the international phone.

"He wants to stay longer and needs to change his flight" a whisper explained to me. I studied the man on the phone's reflection intensely as he tried again and again to place the call, each try ending with his change dumping out in a noisy crash.

"I can see that he needs more practice operating the telephone" I thought "But now is really not the time!"

I nearly began to giggle at the absurdity of it all, and the fact that the stranger was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a multi-colored striped pair of man-panties made the situation even more amusing.

After what seemed like thirty minutes of phone-training, the stranger finally left. I sighed and pressed myself close to my friend. "Ok," he started, "I'm going to go get some juice! I'm very.." and gestured to his sweating brow. He asked if I wanted anything, but I declined.

"However," I replied, "I do have to go to the bathroom." So, clutching my dress to my exposed front, I scampered down the hallway to the public restroom. The bright light made me blink, and I noticed for the first time several crescent shaped marks on my hips. Grinning, I ran my fingers over them before rushing on my way.

I arrived first back at the reception room. Listening, I could hear footsteps coming my way. Sure it was him, but fear not allowing me to take any chances, I ducked behind the couch and waited like a baby deer. He nearly stumbled into me before I stood to greet him. Setting his tea on the table, he took me in his arms. He held me for a moment, then guided me to the window overlooking the city.

Standing behind me, he spread my arms wide, exposing me in front of all the buildings. "Here, Japan," he announced "Is the shyest girl in America!"

I could only hang my head and sheepisly defend myself with "Well, I'm usually quite shy..."

At a loss, I looked around the room, and it was then that I noticed another watcher we hadn't counted on. "Um.." I pointed to the ceiling "camera." Looking up slowly, his eyes picked out the dark object and I heard him gasp lightly in shock. After a moment's consideration, he concluded that it had already witnessed some amazingly inappropriate things that evening, so there was no sense in stopping the show now. He grinned and held up his hand in a peace sign. I did the same, laughing and hoping there was no live operator.

Letting my wrists fall, he ran his hands over my shoulders and down my chest. I leaned back against him as he spread his hands over my stomach, slipping his fingers into my panties. "Oh!" he exclaimed "You're completly shaved!" Moving to kneel in front of me, he tugged the cloth down out of his way. Running his fingers over the shaved skin, he smiled like a wolf hunting a lamb.

Standing, he took me in his arms and led me back to the couch. He had me lay down, and he cradled my head while petting my hair. Gently capturing one of his hands, I brought his finger to my lips. I could hear him shiver as I touched my tongue to his skin. I began to softly suck and nibble the tender flesh, dragging my teeth along the length of his finger. Running my tongue along his fingertip, I slowly slid it in my mouth.

Removing his hand, he grabbed a fist-full of my hair and pulled me to him, using his grip to keep me steady as he kissed me. His other hand softly rested on my throat, pressing lightly. I knew I was in no danger - a single scream would have the entire youth hostel awake and in the lobby with us. And for some reason, I trusted him. I pressed my neck into his hand and he squeezed lightly.

He held me like this only moments longer before standing and unbuttoning his pants. Licking my lips, I understood what was to come. In a flash his hand darted toward me, twining fast in my hair and pulling my face forward. I barely had enough time to guide his cock into my mouth.

Gripping the back of his thigh for stability, I began to work my tongue along the soft skin, taking him as deeply as I could. But he was determined to expand my limits. Using his hold on my hair, he pushed himself further into my throat. I began to choke and struggle, but he refused to release me.

Just as I was fearing that I had walked into more danger than I realized, he let go. I gasped thankful breaths before resuming my feast. He repeated this game with me several times, clutching me closely and causing me to gag. I controlled my reflexes and instead of pushing him away, my fingers dug into him pulling him closer.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed on the couch. "I would love to take you..." he whispered. I could only nod and smile in acquiescence.

As he began digging around in his wallet, I tapped him on the stomach and said "I'm on the pill." Grinning, he tossed down the wallet. Then, he asked dubiously, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I replied, "Quite sure."

Laying me down on my back, he knelt between my open legs. Pushing himself inside me forcefully, he leaned forward for a kiss. My breath came in sharp bursts as he fell into me over and over. I flung myself backward into the couch and he began to roughly grab my chest, pulling me up again. Bitting my lip to silence a scream, I pushed myself toward him, only to fall down into the soft cushions.

Unable to do anything but writhe, I was weakened and easily pinned where I lay. Bending my knees and pressing my thighs against his body, I met his thrusts with my hips. My arms lay limply above me, hands clasping and unclasping the armrest.

One final forceful push and I felt his hot seed dripping over my skin. Pulling me close, he held me and gently stroked my back. We spent the next couple of hours on the couch, holding each other and watching the sun rise. Finally announcing that it was time for him to go to sleep, I pouted but agreed that I was very tired myself.

We parted and I went to my assigned bedroom. Trying the handle, I was shocked to receive only a stubborn "clunk" instead of entry. What luck! I had been locked out by my room-mates! This is something that would ordinarily bother me, but it seemed most fortuitous for this occasion. Dashing along the hallway, my socked feet making tiny thuds in the carpet, I easily caught up to him.

"Wait!" I whispered, "I'm locked out!"

Grinning, he beckoned me to follow him. We quietly snuck into his room, careful not to wake his sleeping dorm-mates. Safely in his bed, I curled up in his arms and fell instantly asleep.

The next morning was a matter of extreme stealth. I had to sneak out of the bedroom without any of the other room-mates (who were awake by this point) seeing me. He waited until everyone was occupied then hurriedly motioned for me to run. Grabbing my coat, journal, and underwear, I dashed from the room. He followed me through the door, telling me that he would see me downstairs after he put some pants on and gave me one last hug.

Downstairs in the smoking corner, both of us fully dressed, we chatted lightly about the surreal events of the previous night. It was then that an employee walked up to us and said "I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you both please come with me?"

Shocked and scared, we followed him into the hostel office where the manager, with a face like ice, stood staring at us. We were caught. The employee explained that the dormitory was separated by gender and that this rule was to be strictly observed. Realizing that we were only in trouble for my night spent in his room, we hurriedly apologized and were sent on our way after promising to never do it again.

Horrified, we wondered how they would have reacted had they seen the tape from the security camera!

My Last sight of him was as he stood in the lobby waving at me while I stepped into the elevator. A friend on the travel group who thinks she's funny yelled out "SHE'S ONLY 15!" I do, in fact, look young enough to make this statement very believable. Reminding my friend of this with an obscene gesture, she hastily calls out "No, she's really 20!" I couldn't be mad at her though, I spent the rest of the day in a dreamy state of bubbling excitement over my chance encounter with my new Swiss friend.