Galaxy Club Adventures in Japan Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Off to a Rocky Start

Japan fascinated me before I ever went there ten years ago. And not because of the strong attraction I've long had for Asian women - I love their black hair, seductively-sculptured eyes, skin just the right color, not too dark and not too light. I'm turned on by their slender, graceful bodies, their perky, delicate breasts.

No, it was Japanese trains that first brought me across the Pacific. Videos of those Shinkansen bullet trains, sleek, multi-colored regional expresses, bustling city commuter trains packed with humanity. Joining a tour group eased by concerns about unreadable ideographs and unintelligible announcements.

So three years ago, when an international rail conference scheduled in Tokyo, honoring the first fifty years of Japanese high-speed rail, caught my attention, I signed up and booked my flights.

Of course, I was going to spend more than the four days of the conference in Japan. The thirteen hour flight over and the stress of adjusting to being on the opposite side of the planet meant that two weeks was the minimum stay I would consider, and three weeks would be even better.

And the women...how would I best get to know one or two? I searched for "sex in Japan" and found a dizzying array of possibilities. I was learning that "Japan has a system for everything". In fact, Japan has one of the most complex and dazzling array of options for male-female (and I suppose gay) encounters of any place on the planet. Not surprisingly, the widest array is available in the largest metro area on the planet: Tokyo.

Japan is funny, in a way: prostitution is strictly illegal, yet they have more choices of recreational sex for hire than just about anywhere. How is that? Well, "prostitution" is sex in return for money. OK...isn't that true everywhere? Ah, but what's the legal definition of sex? Penetration of the penis into the vagina. That's illegal when purchased with money, but everything else goes! And if there is consentual penetration, it's legal between adults as long as money is not exchanged for the purpose. It's OK if money is exchanged for other purposes, say, between a man and a woman who happen to like each other and who happen to have sex.

I'll let you search the Internet yourself for the many options, from clubs where drinking and flirting together is the limit, through "soapland" houses, all the way to escort services. I was intreagued by the Galaxy Club.

The Galaxy Club: Women sign up, are interviewed, photographed, measured, and videoed. Most importantly, they self-classify according to what they want to do on a date. A. Dinner only. B. Dinner and maybe intimacy after two or three dates. C. Dinner and, if the chemistry is right, intimacy on the first date. D. Open and willing. E. Marriage-minded.

Men, to join the club, must be interviewed, vetted, and pay an annual membership fee equivalent to several hundred dollars. They are instructed that each date should be accomapnied by a "thank-you" gift equivalent to $50-100. If she consents to "intimacy", the going rate is whispered informally. (I had to ask, and it turned out to be the equivalent of $500.)

Galaxy Club is a match-making service for women who want to connect with sugar-daddies, and men who want to connect with sugar-babies. Oops. I should say, Gentlemen who want to connect with sugar-babies. That's important, because Galaxy is supposed to provide a safe opportunity for women to get to hook up with men who (a) won't hurt them, and (b) have the means to help them fulfill their dreams financially...and sexually.

So I emailed to express my interest in joining. I wasn't able to schedule an appointment until two weeks later, while I traveled around Japan on those fast, colorful trains. When I came back to Tokyo a few days before the conference, I went to the rendezvous - a coffee shop in Ebisu station - to meet a club representative who would interview me and show me "the ropes". My interviewer turned out to be a wonderfully cheerful, bird-like little woman who spoke English quite well. She asked me a lot of questions very politely, and explained the procedures equally politely.

After an hour or so, we went to a different coffee shop, not in the station, and talked more. Everywhere, my interviewer was recognized. She was quite slender and clearly no longer in her twenties, but she was so bouncy and friendly I owuld have been happy to date her and keep bouncing with her. I asked where I could get condoms, and she thanked me for thinking of the safety of the girls. She wasn't sure I could get condoms large enough for me in Japan, and I protested that I was really very average-size. She insisted: to Japanese girls, I would be quite large - and please be gentle. She made it clear to me that if a woman said "no", it meant "NO". This reassured me that I wouldn't be exploiting women who were in the sex trade against their will.

So I paid the membership fee by electronic transfer and was given access to the online database of female club members. I was encouraged to see that each girl, in addition to 5-6 photos, measurements, and video, had an occupation listed. Many were college students; others were secretaries, sales people, beauticians... A few caught my eye as shop owners or medical professionals - dental hygienists, therapists, nurses, counselors. These were clearly not professional sex workers. I wasn't so sure of the ones whose job was listed as "service" or "hospitality"...

Wow! It was really exciting to look through the listings at all those cute girls, each one trying to get my attention, hoping to have a date with me. Once I learned a few simple techniques, the database allowed me to find girls who spoke some English (Basic, Conversational, or Advanced) and were "Open and willing", or at least willing to try out our mutual "chemistry". I still have tons of fun looking through the listing, since girl sign up frequently, and - for one reason or another - drop out pretty frequently also.

I arranged dates with two girls and paid the fees ($200 or $300 depending on how classy the club thinks the girls are). The first one was Miu, for Friday night after the conference, and the second was Manami, for Saturday afternoon.

Don't get me wrong: the conference was really interesting. But the days were long, and not all the speakers were scintillating, so I sometimes found myself nodding off. When that happened, I soon developed a technique to ward off sleep: I would call to mind the photos of Miu, my Friday night date. She was clearly Asian, but had big, soft, black eyes and unusually large breasts for an Asian woman. When I though of myself drowning in those eyes, or pillowing my head on those luscious boobs, my hormones would surge, my cock would stiffen, and I would spring wide awake. I couldn't wait for Miu and Friday night.

I was staying in a pretty nice hotel, though the room was small by North American standards. At the appointed time on Friday evening, I went down to the lobby to meet Miu. I had bought a vase of flowers (which I left in the room) and a card with one of those cute Japanese kitties and something sweet written inside. I thought, "Miu has the name of a cat's mew, so I'll make a play on her name!".

Friday evening, at the appointed time, I put on a sport coat and went down to the lobby to meet Miu. I was desperately hoping she'd agree to come to the hotel room and fuck, but I remembered that "no" means "NO", and I was quite nervous. I'd never done anything like this before - faithfully married, expect for one affair involving a girl who relentlessly pursued me with kisses and enticements, until I finally let her fuck me.

When I got down to the lobby, I naturally looked for someone obviously waiting for a tryst. Nobody. Finally I saw her, sitting with her back to the entrance, fiddling with her smartphone. "Miu? I'm Owen..." "Yeah," she said. I had decided to confess my nervousness. "This is my first time dating someone like this, and I'm kind of nervous..." "Oh," she said, "well, I hate old men. They want to fuck you, but they can't get hard enough." I was 69, so she was clearly dissing me. My heart - and my cock - sank.

"Well, ahhhh, would you like to go to dinner? There's a nice restaurant on the top floor of the hotel...?"

"Ok. That's what I came for." Good English. Terrible attitude. We went up in the elevator, with me trying desperately to think of something - anything - to say, that would change the mood, the attitude. Nothing came out.

When we got to the restaurant, we were seated with a good view to the east. Thousands of lighted buildings, like jewels scattered on black velvet. "Kabuchiko," she said, scowling, "the part of Tokyo I hate most."

I don't remember what we had for dinner. It was too tense and stressful. I'd planned to compare our lives...

"I was born in Venezuela. Where were you born?"

"Sapporo."

"Oh, I really like Sapporo! I was up there last week. Well, when I was two, my family moved to Washington, D.C. Where did you live when you were two?"

"Sapporo."

"Ok. Then we went to live in Guatemala when I was five. Where did you live when you were five?"

"Sapporo."

"Then, we...oh, never mind. When did you learn to speak such good English?"

This opened her up a little, and she told me about how she had always wanted to go to beauty school in Los Angeles when she graduated from high school (in Sapporo). Her parents thought this was a foolish idea (too expensive for them) so Miu went to Tokyo and worked until she had saved enough money to go to LA and enroll in beauty school on her own dime. She had an interesting time in LA, including at least one boyfriend (probably more), beauty school, and becoming much more realistic about American culture. She ran out of money and came back to Tokyo to work in her chosen career (beauty), while retaining a great love for American pop music, especially Ariana Grande.

Then I started to explain how much I had been looking forward to meeting her, dreaming about her during the conference, and getting hard just looking at her photos. She seemed surprised, but she reluctantly agreed to come to my hotel room with me. She clearly hadn't suddenly started liking old men or believing they could satisfy her. And she added that she didn't like Galaxy Club much, and preferred other online dating sites where women could see pics of the guys and decide if they liked they before agreeing to a date.

So we went down to the hotel room. "What an incredibly small room," she remarked. And looking at the fresh flowers I'd carefully placed at the head of the bed, she sneered, "I hate flowers."

She was clearly doing everything possible to turn me off. I have to admit, she was definitely getting to me.

In Japan, I've found that sex always starts with a shower. I suggested showering together, but she unconditionally refused, so we showered separately. Bummer.

While she was showering, I set up my Bluetooth speaker and queued up some fusion music I really like. It's by the Yoshida Brothers duo, mixing Japanese folk and world pop music.

When she came out, I said, "I have some music I think you'll like. It's by the Yoshida - "

"NO!" She said. "I don't want anything Japanese. I'll play my own music." She started up an Ariana Grande concert on her phone.

We settled in to the bed. She pulled the covers up to her neck. She started telling me how much she liked Ariana. Suddenly she sat up, said, "I want you to listen to this and tell me what you think she's saying." She played a track where Ariana is working in a donut shop (apparently she really worked in one) and, talking to a customer, says something that sounds maybe derogatory about America, maybe obscene. There's a lot of background noise, other people talking. She plays it for me several times, but it's still impossible to tell what she's saying. Miu is disgusted with me. She flops back on the bed, next to the wall.

This was the time I'd been thinking about to keep me awake during the conference. Finally, we were in bed together. Her boobs were as sweet and round as I'd hoped. Her butt was soft and inviting. Her pussy was shaved. But she insisted in keeping a towel over her tummy, and she lay right up against the wall. I knew kissing would be a non-starter with her negative attitude, so I didn't even try. Instead, I focused on her sweet breasts, licking and kissing them. Wow, they were sweet!

I figured I could slip my hand softly down to her shaved pussy. Wrong! Not only did she refuse to take the towel off, she didn't even want my hand on her tummy. "What is it with the towel?" I asked. "I don't show my tummy to ANYONE! It's not personal, really. I don't even show it to my sister. We share an apartment."

"Ok," I answered, changing the subject "so why do you shave your pussy? Don't most Japanese women like to keep their pubic hair?"

"Yeah, but I'm more comfortable shaving. If I don't take the hair off, it itches, especially during my period. I can't scratch down there."

"True," I said, "but can I kiss it down there?"

"Ummm ... Ok."

It was luscious, licking, kissing, stimulating. It was a perfect pussy (aren't they all?) with soft, plump labia. And she was gradually getting turned on, wiggling and squirming, grunting softly. After a while, she suddenly became stiff, rigid. I knew she had experienced orgasm, even though she hated to admit that an old man had done it for her. I was proud and happy, and decided it was time for a real fuck.

I rolled away from her and got a condom, put it on, and rolled back to her. She was still against the wall, and I couldn't get into a position where I could penetrate her. "So," I said, "how the hell am I supposed to fuck you if you're up against the wall?"

She didn't move for a moment, then slowly scooted out a little. It was just enough. I spread her legs, got between their softness, and eagerly guided my cock to her pussy.

This is the point in the story where all the other Literotica writers seem to use the term, "rock hard cock".

Unfortunately, I'd be dishonest if I used it here. I was half hard, half soft. Just so-so hard.

And I couldn't get it inside her.

Oh, I tried. I pushed and worked different angles, my sweat dripping onto her boobs, but I just couldn't get inside. I knew it was because she really, really didn't want me. I was angry. I was ashamed, humiliated. She had said at the beginning of the evening she didn't like old me because they couldn't get hard enough. After trying several minutes, sweaty and crestfallen, I gave up. "It's no use," I told her.

"Well, Ok," she said. "Let me try to get you up."

She knelt beside me on the bed, stripped off the condom, tossed it aside, and started giving me head. She stroked my shaft, held it in her mouth, licked it, sucked it. She was pretty good. I'd never had anyone give me a blowjob before, and since then I've had better ones. But I have to say for Miu, she really tried to get me up and fucking. I was just too disappointed, humiliated, and stressed out to respond, but she kept at it for nearly 15 minutes, and she seemed to be enjoying herself.

But kneeling by me, she seemed to have forgotten the towel that had covered her tummy. I could see that her lower abdomen had the telltale white stretch-marks and flabbiness of a past pregnancy. I suddenly knew what she was hiding: not just her tummy, but that fact that she had a child. She was a single mom.

Finally I said, "It's no use. We're not going to get anywhere. Thanks for trying so hard!"

In spite of not getting satisfaction, we were both tired and sweaty, so we showered off. Separately. Oh, well.

When she was dressed, I gave her the kitty-card with the full $500. She quickly opened the card and peeked in, counted the five big bills, and said, "Wow! You gave me everything! Thank you!" She must have figured I would only give her some of the money because she had clearly not cooperated most of the time, and had worked hard at dissing me.

But I said, "You really tried hard there, at the end. I appreciate that!"

Clearly she could use the money. She and her secret child.

She looked at the card. "Oh, those kitties are so kawaii!" I told her I got cats for her because of her name.

"My name...? Oh, "Miu, mew! Well, in Japan cats don't say 'mew,' they say 'nyao', so my name has nothing to do with cats."

*Sigh*

It was time for her to go, and I said, "I'll walk with you to the station. If I can't be a stud, at least I can be a gentleman." So we walked together to the subway. On the way, I began to have hopes that we could repair the bad start to our relationship. I asked if she'd be willing to come to lunch with me on Sunday, two days later. She agreed.

I really wanted to get inside that tight, wet vagina!

...To be continued.