Discovering Japanese Tail

He looked so innocent and scared when I got him naked and under me on my bunk. His eyes telescoped wide when he saw the glass dildo, but he opened to it and begged me for the cock while I twisted and pumped the glass shaft inside him. He was mixed reactions going with his mixed heritage, both as sweet as hell—struggling against me, making me pin him down, less than half my size and weight, while all the time saying "Yes, yes, fuck me; be good to me."

I was good to him—eight thick inches good to him—first in glass and then in flesh. He writhed and struggled until I had him under control, pinning his wrists together over his head, possessing his mouth, and fucking him open with the glass dildo, while he moaned and bucked against me. He arched his back, panted hard, and writhed under while I worked him to a jackoff with the dildo. But when I got the cock bulb where my glass shaft had been, he went all docile and yielding to me, whispering, "Yes. Yes. Do what you want."

He brought his pelvis up to meet me to give me a straight shot up into him. He spread and bent his legs and raised his hips, leveraging off his feet pressed flat onto the mattress. He yielded totally to me, taking and holding the position I put him in, murmuring, "Yes. Yes. Be good to me." I was in no more than a couple of inches when he bucked up with his pelvis and took the rest inside. He was rocking as hard as I was during the fuck. When I released his wrists, instead of trying to push me away, he was running his fingers through my chest hair and still going with the rhythm of the fuck. "Fuck me!" he cried out. And I did just that. "Oh, fuck, YESS!"

At twenty, Neal Schorner was no innocent. He was a luscious lay, and he dragged the peak of my arousal down another couple of years into the world of the young. Most important, he consolidated my realization that I loved fucking Japanese men.

* * * *

I can't complain about the reception in Yokohama. We were met like royalty by the manager of the Imperial Hotel, Aisaku Hayashi, and various other dignitaries, including my own young conquest, Yukio Takamoto—although I'll have to admit that perhaps it was I who was his conquest—and, I was told, by a fine collection of Japanese royals, who conveyed us to Tokyo in style. I found I wasn't as uncomfortable around a group of Japanese in their kimonos as I had been the previous February at Taliesin.

Yukio picked me out of the arriving passengers and told me, in a breathless voice, that I wouldn't be staying in the rooms at the hotel itself that had been prepared for us but at a nearby artist's dwelling.

"I live there myself," he said. "I thought that it would be well for us to be near to each other. You will be staying with my uncle. In exchange for housing and board, he wishes that you install some stained-glass windows for him. I took the liberty of saying you would be willing to do that."

I should have realized what he meant when he said I'd be staying with his uncle. I knew that Yukio was a royal. It wasn't until we got to Tokyo that I realized that his uncle, Norihito Yamato, in addition to being a woodblock print artist of some renown, was also a prince and that his dwelling was a not-so-small palace on the Imperial Palace grounds just across a moat and ancient wall from the Imperial Hotel grounds.

Yukio guided me to a sumptuously furnished bed chamber in an upper floor of the palace overlooking the manicured Imperial Palace grounds. Four burly young men in kimonos, or yukatas, I didn't know which to call them, although Yukio said that the yukata was more the everyday version of robe, carried in a high-rimmed copper bathtub. All the time they averted their eyes from Yukio and me, as the young Japanese beauty was unclothing me and doing so with fondling and kissing involved. The men had smiles on their faces and did peek at the two of us—Yukio wasn't undressing. The younger, smaller chamber attendants who followed with ewers of hot water similarly made a pretense of averting their eyes, while not doing so. When I saw them see me for the first time, I saw their eyes dilate. I don't know if it was from my muscularity, my hairiness, or the size of my shaft. With the attention I was getting, I, of course, was in full, throbbing erection. It might have been a combination of all three. I probably looked like a bear to them. It, too, might be because they saw the glass shaft I was holding.

I was bathed in an intimate fashion by Yukio when the rest had cleared the chamber, the first time I'd had a full bath since I'd sailed from San Francisco. I pulled him into the tub with me and lifted the shimmering glass dildo out of the bath water for him to see, to respond to with a moan, and then to position himself so that I could work the shaft inside him, using the dildo and my hand grasping and stroking his cock to bring him off.

After we had both dried off, I was sat on the end of the bed and Yukio knelt before me, clad once again in his kimono, took my cock in his mouth, and gave me suck. I took his sash from him and wound it behind his neck, holding the two ends, and using pressure on that to help control his head as it moved between my thighs.

After I was engorged, and only then, did I lift the young man up, run my hands into the folds of the kimono, and unknot and unwind his loin cloth. He crouched between my thighs, moaning and groaning, as I fondled him inside the folds of his silk kimono. One thing he had taught me was how sexy it could be to fuck a man who was clothed, exposing only various sections of his flesh, playing with his nakedness, and with only his entrance exposed when I penetrated him, all of my attention going to the effect of my possessing him there. When neither of us could stand the teasing any more, I lifted him; sat him on my lap, facing me; pulled his passage down on my cock; and fucked him to heaven—or, rather, I held there while he bobbed up and down on my shaft.

As before, Yukio was a sweet lay. But something was a bit less satisfying than when I had fucked him at Taliesin, in Wisconsin. Then he was the youngest male, at twenty-two, who I had ever fucked. It was a thrill to fuck a man that young then. But on the boat, I fucked Neal Schorner, who was younger yet—at twenty. I was dawning on me that the pleasure of the fuck was building as the youths I laid grew younger. It helped now that they were Japanese. I now assessed every young Asian male I saw as a possible sex partner. There was something in the way that both Yukio and Neal had melded with and yielded to me and gone with the fuck that was making me believe Japanese men were superior sex partners.

Perhaps finding that ever-younger sex partner was almost as key to my arousal was why I wasn't totally into the fuck of Yukio, the young man rising and falling on my cock as I held him in my lap until I saw that not all of the chamber attendants had withdrawn. There was a beautiful Japanese youth, even younger in appearance than Yukio, standing shyly just outside the chamber door, in the shadows, watching Yukio and me fuck. He was smaller and younger looking than any of the men I had yet fucked. Upon seeing him, I panted hard, engorged larger, and became more lost in the fuck of Yukio. Yukio yielded to me and went with me in the sex as deliciously as he had before in Taliesin.

But in my mind was I fucking the even younger Japanese youth standing in the shadows outside my chamber door?

Feeling the cum rising up inside me, I placed a hand on Yukio's tailbone and pulled him into me, taking my cock deep up inside him. With a little cry, he dropped his arms to the side, arched back, and exhibited that he was completely under my command. He jerked with me on each of our series of releases. When I was spent, he rose back up into my chest and we kissed.

"You know that one of your chamber attendants is watching us," I murmured in his ear.

"Yes. That is Hiro. Hiro Owada, one of my uncle's wards. I let him act the attendant to carry in water because I had told him about kyodai na membaa ni watashino cokina kemukujara no kuma—my big, hairy bear with the giant member—and he didn't believe me but wanted what I told him I got from you—how it felt to have a giant 'penisu'—penis inside and to be covered by a 'kebukai'—hairy giant. He is much favored by my uncle. He wanted to see us 'koubi'—copulate."

I nearly went hard again immediately. The Japanese certainly were more direct and matter-of-fact about sex than we Americans were. "And how old is this curious favorite of your uncle?"

"Hiro is eighteen."

Well, shit. "And has he ever—?"

"Not yet. But he's interested. He poses for my uncle's private art, but he has not gone beyond simulation yet—at least in penisu—penis-in-the-hole sex. He was interested that perhaps you would be his first."

"His first?"

"To koubi—copulate with him—karno uchigawa ni haichi shi, tanewo ririsu—to put it in him and release the seed—how do you say it? Breed him? I told him you would be too big to be his first but that made him all the more interested."

Well, shit. He had aroused me to the point that I put it in him again and released my seed.

Hiro remained in place and watched me fuck Yukio a second time. While I fucked Yukio, I was imagining fucking the younger Hiro. I had discarded the glass dildo by the bed, and Hiro retrieved it and pressed it to his body here and there. I resolved that I what have it in my grip and work the young man's ass with it before I left Japan.

* * * *

Three crews—one for establishing the parameters of work, one for design, and one for setup—had come to Tokyo from Taliesin earlier in 1916, so all was ready for Frank to razzle dazzle and do the final signings and for the rest of us to begin with work in facilities in which we could get right to reconstructing the hotel. Frank was going all out on this project. I had everything I needed to work with in turning designs into Frank Lloyd Wright style windows, transoms, skylights, and decorative walls. I had three American assistants, although when the work got hot and delicate I did it myself, stripped down to fire-resistant heavy-material baggy pants and a welder's mask. I was good at keeping cinders from leaping up on my bare chest and lighting up my chest hair, but not perfect, so I was well scarred. I had found I couldn't work in the heat I had to produce to render the stained-glass, though, with anything but a light cotton athletic shirt on, so I went bare chested more than not when I was working on putting the glass together in the patterns Frank and his students designed.

I worked in fluid motions, almost a dance, and I invited men I wanted to fuck to come watch me work. They quickly fell into calling me by the nickname Vulcan. When I let them watch me fashion a glass dildo just for them, I had no trouble getting them into bed. Yukio came to watch me and sex with him always was good afterward.

I had brought two assistants of my choosing from Taliesin. I fucked both of them regularly and we worked together like a hand and glove with both the glass work and in bed. Both were in their late twenties, though, and ever since I'd first covered Yukio at Taliesin in February of what was now the previous year, I didn't get the enjoyment out of my assistants that I had before. They both were totally loyal and attentive, though, and they gave me release regularly. I was a highly sexed man. I needed frequent release.

That would have been enough staff for me to cope with the demand for stained glass in the Imperial Hotel rebuild, but, as part of the agreement with the Japanese government for Frank to develop this desirable property and to have the free rein he did in doing so, we had to train Japanese artisans in the design work as well.

I was assigned three Japanese artisans. It was a nuisance, and my first instinct was to turn them over entirely to Jason and Anthony, my assistants, but when the artisans were presented to me, I quickly changed my mind.

"How could this one be a Japanese artisan in such a refined and demanding art," I asked. "He couldn't be more than—"

"Eighteen. I'm eighteen, and you need not talk to me through the translator. I speak English. My name is Hiro Owada," he said. "I've been working with the glass design since I was eight."

I, of course, knew who he was, although I hadn't retained his name. He was the favorite nephew of the prince who was hosting me, Norihito Yamato, a famous Japanese artist who must have known what he was doing and had assurances of Hiro's skill to send him to train with the foreign artisans. It was the Hiro who had watched me fuck Yukio from the stated curiosity of what it would be like to be fucked by me.

"Well, Master Hiro, I suppose I can let you follow me around to get some sense of how I do it." It was, of course, a double entendre accompanied by a knowing smile that Hiro shared with me, but there was no reason for my American assistants to be aware of that.

When my assistants turned away to help prepare for the glass blowing, I murmured to Hiro, "And are you still—?"

"Unridden by men? Not yet breeded?" he asked, with a little smile, and when I didn't say anything, he added, "Yes. I have saved myself for someone special."

Then I went to work, stripped down to my baggy pants and welder's mask. I danced, sensually, as I worked and Hiro watched and melted. What I was making was a glass dildo just for Hiro and when he realized that was what I was fashioning, I heard him moan. If I hadn't known before that he would willingly go under me, I knew it now. When I finished, he was flushed and was panting.

"Is this special enough?" I asked when the dildo was laying on a cloth between us?

"Yes, that is very special," he answered.

That night, in my chamber in Prince Norihito's palace, my sexual instructions for the luscious, small, dark hair and eyed, alabaster skinned, eighteen-year-old Hiro Owada began. We had both been bathed—in the same copper tub, Hiro's thighs on top of mine, me frotting our cocks—his pert, mine gargantuan—together until the water between us went murky white from our released cum. Then we patted each other down with fluffy towels, and each donned a loose-fitting silk kimono.

I sat him in my lap, sideways, and kissed him on the lips and throat and nipples while my hands roamed inside the folds of his kimono. He yielded all to me, sighing and moaning, completely open to what he knew was coming—and clearly wanted. He could feel the thick, long hardness of me rising between his clinched thighs. I kissed down to his nipples, brushing his kimono open, and then he did the same for me, letting his tongue make small swirls with my black chest hair, while his tongue and teeth found and played with my nibs. He gasped as, holding him bent back securely in front of me, I entered him with the glass shaft, but he didn't shirk from it. His hands came down to cover mine as I gripped the dildo and worked his passage with it. He arched his head back and my dipped my face and took his lips in a kiss. He was hungry for me.

"You are not a novice of this," I murmured, when I came out of the kiss. "Your passage opens to the glass. I was told you were a virgin to men."

"I am a virgin to men's penisu inside me," Hiro whispered, "but my uncle has trained me in all else so that I can pose with other men for him to draw in the creation of his woodblock prints for private collectors. He taught me to do this too." Whereupon Hiro moved off my lap onto the floor, took my cock in his mouth, which I thought would be impossible to do, but he took it deep in his throat and I lay back, not intending to let him take me to a finish, but he was so expert at it that all he had to do was lightly palm my lower belly to keep me in place as I built up to a release and then exploded again and again, into the back of his throat.

We lay there for some time in full body embrace, his small and trim, mine large and muscular, as we kissed and I explored every inch of his supple little body, still exploring within the folds of the kimono, finding this Japanese technique of covered sexual art highly arousing. Once more I employed the glass shaft, and once more he arched his back, spread his legs, and murmured "Hai, hai, hai."

I was in full erection again when we moved back to my providing and Hiro taking my lead. I had him on his back and I was stretched out along his body on my side, hovering over him.

"Sigh for me," I commanded as I unwrapped the kimono, brushing it to each side, exposing his beautiful little body, and ran my big, coarse hands in the crevices and over the curves of his supple, vibrant white body. He sighed for me. "Watashini sore wo oku—Put it in me," he begged.

"Moan for me," I commanded as I coaxed his thighs open with my hand, rising to where his thighs met, stroking his perineum, the taint between his balls and the rim of his hole around the sides of the buried glass shaft until he did moan for me.

"Moan for me deeper," I commanded as I slowly pulled the glass dildo out and my fingers, first one and then two, breached his sphincter muscle, coaxing his no longer tight hole to open enough for the tips of the fingers to find and stroke his prostate. And he produced a deeper moan for me and his slim hips began to softly rock against the fingers.

"Watashini sore wo oku!" he cried out. "Sore wo oku watashino okufuykaku watshitachini! Tsu wo tsukuru!—Put it in me deep. Make us one!"

I leaned over and took his mouth in a deep kiss as I continued to work his passage, only very reluctantly blossoming open for me, with my fingers. Coming out of the kiss, I kissed and tongued down his small, trembling body, pulling my fingers out of his still-tight ass and replacing them with my tongue when I reached the cleft between his buttocks cheeks. "Groan for me," I commanded and he did.

"Ai, ai, ai!" he exclaimed, as I worked my fingers in to the knuckles and massaged his prostate.

Hiro, though he was groaning at the difficulty of opening enough even for my fingers, was very much into the fuck. As I ate him out, he moved his pelvis rhythmically against my face and gripped my head hair to hold me to him. "Hai, hai. Watashiwo fakku," he murmured, and I needed no translation as Yukio had begged me in Japanese to fuck him several times before.

"Open to me. Let me in. Cry out for me," I commanded as I positioned myself over him and began the difficult journey of sheathing my thick, long, throbbing cock in his small hole. It took time and effort and much crying from Hiro, but I did get it in him, established position, and, as he cried out "Ai, ai, ai! Watashiwo fakku! Watashiwo fakku!" I did just that. I fucked him and fucked him and fucked him.

After that, for the second and third fuckings, I didn't have to provide any more instruction. The little firecracker was adept in the theories of the Japanese art of sex and quickly was able to bring them into practice. He was flexible and yielding and insatiable.

I had met my ideal level. I wanted to fuck eighteen-year-old Japanese youths forever.

In the months to come, although I continued to fuck Yukio, it was Hiro and other eighteen-year-olds, mostly virgins, after him as he aged who brought the highest arousal and release out of me. I repaid Prince Norihito's generosity as a host, which included providing new eighteen-year-olds as the months and years in the construction of the Imperial Hotel, which didn't open until 1923, spun out, by modeling with the small, young Japanese men for his sex-position woodblock prints, to which I brought the refinement of actually fucking the youth as we posed. I also trained one young Japanese artisan after another in the stained-glass art, contributing, I hope, to the flourishing of that art technique in Japan. I exhibited my work technique, dancing bare chested for each of my young apprentices, and each of them opened his legs for me.