An Englishwoman in Japan Ch. 03

I paused briefly when I unexpectedly felt a hand on my ass, momentarily wondering how he could do that when his hands were in my hair. But the smoothness of the touch soon told me it belonged to no man. Kumico was still taking photographs, but she was intent on getting in on the action, too.

I moaned my appreciation, but even as her fingers curled under my body to find my labia, I had no time to enjoy his wife's caressing touch.

Michael had wrapped both blonde pigtails like a rope around his wrists and dragged my mouth onto him as he pressed forward, so that I could feel the head of his cock bump against the back of my throat again. My eyes were watering and saliva was dripping from corners of my mouth as he rhythmically drove his hips forward, pushing his cock even deeper.

For whatever reason I fleetingly thought of Nick—what we had before in our marriage, and what we were left with now. What would he think if he could see me now? That his wife was a slut who was becoming addicted to Japanese cock? Whose fault was that—mine, for giving in to my urges, or his for ignoring my needs and working too hard?

Suddenly I felt dirty and dark and twisted.

But there wasn't time to ponder on those thoughts. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to the size and I'd fallen into a rhythm, sliding his huge length in and out of my mouth without gagging. Judging from his grunts, and the way his fingers played in my hair, I was doing a good job.

But then there was Kumico to consider, too. Two of the feminine fingers between my thighs had pushed inside me and expertly found my g-spot. She had me on the verge ... so close ...and then I was cumming, almost choking on her husband's manhood as my senses went into overload.

Her fingers paced me through the orgasm before she withdrew them,, and before I knew it, I was sprawled back on the carpet, panting hard, while both husband and wife smiled down at me.

"Why don't you tell Michael what you want," Kumico said, pushing back a loose strand of her jet black hair.

She smiled as she casually shot off a couple more photographs of me in my vulnerable post-orgasmic state. I must have looked such a sight, in my black patent heels, my stockinged legs slightly apart, labia glistening, a sheen of perspiration covering my body as my right hand played with one of my pigtails.

My gaze flicked from her to her husband and I knew the raw need in my eyes was there for both of them to see.

"Fuck me," I simply said. My voice was no more than a croak. "Please."

---

Michael didn't just have a big cock. He knew how to use it. Still lying on their king-sized bed, panting out my need to be fucked yet again, I found myself wondering if all Japanese men as virile as those I'd met so far.

The masseuse's—still queuing up to massage and then fuck their English prize—had astonished me with their stamina, but no more so than my fifty-plus year old Japanese politician with the flamboyant 'Tarzan' styled hair. It was damp now from his exertions, just like mine.

My blonde hair had grown a little darker now that it was wet, clinging to my perspiring brow. Somewhere during our intense sessions my pigtails had worked free, maybe when he'd ran his fingers through my hair and held my head like he would a bowling ball as he'd taken control, using it as leverage while we'd fucked one another like two rabid animals.

Most of the time, Kumico had continued to take photographs, in between sipping her champagne or pouring glassfuls over our entwined bodies just to see what reaction it would provoke. Her deep-red lips had followed the liquid trail on a couple of occasions, seeking out my nipples and then sweeping upwards across my chest, my neck and ... yes ... my mouth.

Kissing this young Geisha-looking beauty, while her husband continued to pound inside me, had made me scream out loud as I came.

Later, when I was breathlessly gyrating on Michael's huge cock in reverse-cowboy fashion, she had finally put the camera to one side and sat in the nearby chair again. Her eyes had found mine as she'd slowly and meticulously tugged the tight kimono up to her waist. She was naked underneath.

Shifting her position slightly, she'd curled her right leg over the arm of the chair as she'd begun to masturbate infront of me. The electricity between our blurry gazes had been intense and the way we'd made love with our eyes was every bit as real as the way I'd undulated on her husband's cock or she'd used the fingers of her right hand to frantically rub against her exposed clit. The sight of her, head thrown back, red lips open wide, made me decide there and then that I had to have her, too, before the night was out.

And now my wish was about to become reality...

She sat on the opposite end of the bed, naked now, waiting obediently for her husband's permission before we took the inevitable next steps. Her light brown skin colour was a contrast to her whiter face but what had struck me most as she'd undressed was that she had curves where it counted—in her slender hips, in her tapering buttocks, and in her full breasts. Her little brown nipples sat hard and high on their peaks, and her sex, glistening from her arousal, was devoid of a single curl.

Michael drained the last of his champagne before approaching the bed, stroking his thick shaft with one hand as he walked. The way it grew in his palm had me licking my lips. That wolfish smile was on his face again as he guided me around in the doggy style position I loved so much, until my face was just a few inches away from his wife's gleaming labia.

Her hands reached for my hair as her husband crawled behind me on the bed, his monster bumping against my ass cheeks. I felt a wonderful tremor in my body at the thought of what lay in store—how long was it since I'd taken part in any sort of threesome?—and I had to suck back some saliva as it began to drool from my wet lips.

"Now," the beautiful young Geisha softly said to me, "Come taste Kumico..."

It was then that the red mists of uncontrollable pleasure began to take over.

She placed her hand on my head, stroking my hair as she raised her hips upwards, offering herself to me. Her aroma was intoxicating. I let her guide me to her tight opening and then it was just impossible to hold back, even with her husband feeding his cock into me from behind.

My lips, tongue and fingers were all over her—Yoko was a wonderful teacher—and after alternatively working on her clit and labia, it didn't take long for her lips to open up to me. Her flowing juices were every bit as tangy as I expected and I rubbed some of her arousal onto my fingers before slowly pushed them inside her tightness, bringing a moan of pleasure as I stretched her out.

"Hai ... Hai..."

But it was becoming more difficult to give her the full attention she deserved when Michael's monster was fully inside me now. Oh, God, the friction! He was rocking me forward into his wife's growing wetness with each steady thrust and my body began to involuntarily respond to his movements, my hips rocking back and forth against him and my knees digging deeply into the mattress as he hunched over me to get a better angle.

Despite his size, I could feel him push deeper and deeper into me with every thrust and suddenly it was difficult to breathe, let alone give pleasure to his Geisha-wife. She was so beautiful, with that innocent-looking face contorted in pleasure as she humped upwards into my face.

I could hear muffled sounds as her thighs squeezed my ears—slurps, squishes, moans, growls, heavy panted breathing—but instead I tried to focus on the aroused clit protruding from the apex of her sex. It was practically throbbing to my touch and when covered it with copious amounts of saliva and tongued it back and forth in my mouth, she suddenly cried out and unexpectedly squirted across my face, sparking off my own powerful orgasm.

Holding her legs apart, I went after her juices, lapping and sucking like a dervish in my desperation to bring another gush from her.

But Michael had other ideas. He was twisting me onto my back and pushing his thickness back inside me even as he dragged my ankles up and around his neck. I wasn't going to complain. He was the main course, after all.

"Fuck me," I told him, stretching my arms upwards so that I could curl my fingers in his unkempt hair.

I was so turned on that I could feel my juices running down and glazing my inner thighs.

"Never stop fucking me..."

---

It was well into the early hours when I'd returned to my apartment and I knew that a bubble bath was just the thing I needed to soothe my tired body.

I let out a long drawn out sigh as I lowered myself into the hot water, feeling it burn deliciously and immediately flush my skin. Was there a single part of my body that wasn't sore or aching? Yet it was a delicious ache.

For a few moments, I tried to focus on what had happened just as I was leaving the impressive residence, something I could never have expected, something that had turned the whole night upside down. I didn't know what to think and I needed to talk to Yoko, but I couldn't call her at this hour. That conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.

Okay, I eventually told myself as I rested my head back against the curved side of the large, round whirlpool tub. Get your thoughts in order.

Number one, I still loved Nick. We'd moved to Japan so that we could build a new life together and everything that had happened hadn't changed the way I felt about him, even if it did make me query the way he felt about me.

Number two, did he love me or not? Yes, I knew he had to put so much time and effort into his work, but even the little touches were missing in our relationship right now. Why didn't he call every night when he was away? Where were the flowers he used to send? Why didn't he ask me about my day anymore, or take me out on the rare occasions he was at home?

Number three—the sex. Yes, I was being unfaithful, even if I did manage to find every excuse under the sun to convince myself otherwise. But when a stranger was pounding inside you, and your legs were curled around his back while you begged him not to stop, there was only one sensible conclusion.

Number four, who was to blame for my predicament? On the face of it, I was the guilty one. It was me who was fucking other men behind my husband's back. But it wasn't that simple. Since my late teens, I'd enjoyed daily sex, sometimes twice daily. So had my husband, I'd thought. Nick and I had fucked two or three times a day before we'd relocated to Japan and while his sex drive might have shrunk to close to zero as a result of his work commitments, mine hadn't. So if he wasn't going to give his wife her basic needs, wasn't it logical she would seek them elsewhere?

Besides, I hadn't fallen in love with someone else, and nor I was I exactly having an affair behind his back.

I just needed ... sex.

Number five, my sex sessions with the masseuses had been self-contained and something I felt I could control. Yoko's request for a favour had taken me outside those 'safe' boundaries and, while it had resulted in some of the most sensational sex I'd enjoyed in a long time, I'd thought it had just been that—a 'one off' favour—until...

Until Michael had arranged for the taxi to take me home and given me the envelope containing twenty thousand English pounds for 'my services.'

Oh my God, he had actually paid me. For my services.

He had given me twenty grand—twenty fucking grand—for fucking him and his Geisha wife most of the night. In my book, that made me a prostitute.

Didn't it?