Rainy Day in Tokyo

He immediately discerned, without trying to communicate in our disparate languages, that Niho and I had been fucking for more than an hour and intended to continue to fuck. This quite evidently was fine with him. He shucked his wet clothes, taking them to the bathroom, and returned naked. He brought another condom with him, approached me, and leaned down into me for our lips to meet as his hand worked my cock to hard again. He crowned me with the condom and sat in my lap, on my cock. Niho returned to the platform bed and snuggled in behind me, covering my pecs with the palms of his hands and working my nipples with his fingers. I turned my face back to Niho, and we kissed. I gripped Roko's thin waist between my hands, and, as he arched back to the floor and placed his palms on the floor board, I pulled the young actor on and off my cock, slowly, sensually, savoring the view of the cock bulb spreading the opening to the passage just enough to penetrate and then spreading it more with the expanding thickness of the shaft followed behind. The actor was somewhat better endowed than Niho was and was hard as a rock. As Roko fucked himself on my shaft, Niho reached around and stroked him off.

Roko was murmuring in Japanese, but I didn't need a translator to know that I was pleasuring him well enough. He certainly was pleasuring me.

Roko didn't let me finish inside his passage. He knelt between my spread legs, pulled the condom off my cock, and while Niho continued running his hands over my torso and flanks, gave me a blow job that told me that the older actor was going to be very happy during every performance of the sexed-up Deathtrap to be receiving a blow job from his young man on stage.

Later, as Roko and I were back in the window well, with his back to the wall and the soles of his feet plastered to the well wall behind me, using them for leverage to fuck himself on my cock, I crouched between his legs, clutching his buttocks and pulling him on and off my cock. Niho lay on his back on the platform bed, legs bent and spread, and worked his passage with a thick black dildo while he watched Roko and me fuck.

I noticed, after I'd come, that it no longer was raining. The light was bright coming in through the window panes, still beaded with water droplets.

I knew it was time to leave. I left the two stretched out against each other on the bed, Roko holding Niho in his arms and working the dildo in Niho's ass. They were very much into pleasuring each other—quite the romantic pair. I was grateful that they had made room to include me as well.

* * * *

"I hope you didn't mind the consulting stint at the Sudonobu Theater today, Timothy," Professor Gokyo said as he came to me where I was standing by the window at the Tokyo University of the Arts Faculty Club window.

"No, it was quite stimulating," I answered, with a smile. I was reflecting that he seemed to have turned me in that direction to keep me from hooking up with someone before I could with him—and it had led to two quite satisfying hookups. "It was a very satisfying afternoon," I added.

"I thought you might be amused and inspired by the production slant they are taking with Deathtrap."

"Yes, that too," I answered. He gave me a quizzical look, but I just smiled a little smile—I would have purred if I could—and didn't elaborate.

"I hope you didn't have too much trouble with the language barrier."

"It didn't prevent me from achieving anything I wanted," I said. Which was true, despite the initial frustration and irritation of the isolating nature of the language barrier. Niho, Rico, and I hadn't been stymied by a language barrier; we'd all managed to get what we wanted—at least I had. I'd achieved an uncountable number of quite satisfactory ejaculations.

"I'm sorry about the rain," he said. "It usually isn't that persistent or dousing in Tokyo in the summer."

"I enjoyed that too," I answered. The image of Niho slowly riding my cock in the window well with the rain beating on the windowpane and that of Roko arriving in the flat soaked to the skin—and, indeed, the whole scenario that had me ducking into the small grocery store and being taken up to Niho's room for an afternoon of very pleasant fucking—no, lovemaking—floated across my mind. No, I didn't mind the rainy day in Tokyo at all.

"Oh, terrors," Gokyo said, looking out of the window we were standing by. "It's raining again, and it looks like it's settled in. You can't be going out into this after the reception. I'll have to drive you."

We both knew he wouldn't be taking me back to the hotel from here, though. "I think you mean that you want me to drive you," I said, giving him a grin.

"I think it's time we left the reception. We've been here long enough for politeness sake." He said this as he reached out for my half-full glass of scotch. It was good scotch, but, after taking a generous slug of it, I handed the glass to him without regret.

An hour later, we were on the platform bed in his traditional-style wood-frame house, with the tiled roof and the shoji screens marking off the room separations. He was as inventive and athletic as he'd been in his hotel room in New York City. I was lying on my back on the bed and he was suspended over me, facing up at the ceiling, in the position of a crab. He was leveraging off his hands, his arms on either side of my shoulders and on his feet, his legs bent and planted on either side of my knees. And he was raising and lowering his buttocks on my cock, as I held his waist in my arms.

I knew we'd be going on like this for a couple of hours, Gokyo employing increasingly inventive and athletic ways to ride my cock. As he fucked himself on me surrounded by the muffled sounds of satisfying and totally immersed sex, I became aware that the sound of the rain beating on the roof tiles was whipping up into a frenzy of a storm—just as, eventually, in a reach for a new plane of satisfaction, our taking and giving would become a frenzied race to a shared orgasm—or two or three. Gokyo and I were a perfect fit, sexually.

As I became increasingly aware of the sound of the rain on the tile roof I also became more attuned to the changing of the pattern in Gokyo's rise and fall on my cock. I realized that he was hearing the rain as music and was melding the fuck to the patterns of this music. When I'd realized this, I started going with him in the effort until we were moving as one perfect fucking machine merging with the rain, becoming one with the elements.

And, no, I didn't mind at all that it had been a rainy day in Tokyo.