A Simple Japanese InnbyWillingWolf©
My name is Peter Edwardes and this is the story of an amazing weekend I had in Tokyo.
I had been working in Tokyo then for about five years. I had come over to see an Exhibition and just stayed on, originally working as a language teacher but in the last couple of years I had set up a small business, mainly in the name of a local colleague named Showie. Well actually Shoichi Hadazo but Showie is what everyone calls him.
I had started the part-time importing of foodstuffs for expatriates that the shops rarely stocked. I started with a dozen jars of mustard and then the same of pickle and then of tea. Silly really. Nobody needs those sort of goods when local versions are completely adequate but there is still an ex-pat demand.
When I needed larger supplies to put in shops rather than deliver personally I needed a local name, a delivery-in base and help with the accounts and local taxations. Showie supplied all this for 70% of the profits. I just placed the goods in the shops or continued to deliver direct where appropriate. We had moved up from just British goods to American, French and even some German sausage and sauerkraut. We were doing okay.
One of our problems in spreading our distribution base fairly widely was that we had a few little shops that somehow never got round to paying us. We gave them 30 days but then I would go round and demand the money or try and take the goods off the shelves if they hadn't sold.
One way and another, this was a bit of a pain.
Eventually with three or four really bad payers we decided to go to a debt recovery agent who would pay us a small percentage immediately and up to fifty percent of the value if they reclaimed the money themselves.
And that's how I managed to find myself on Tokyo station on a Friday at around four o'clock meeting Yuki Honda. We had met a couple of times before, strictly on business. He was one of their senior collectors, our contact at the company. We had got on rather well I thought. I had joked about whether he was a member of the Car dynasty to which he looked a little bemused until I explained. It transpired that Honda is really one of the commonest Japanese surnames.
On behalf of his company Yuki had invited Showie to a customer's weekend down near Shimoda, a coastal resort just outside of Tokyo, just to a simple Japanese Inn. Showie was unable to go and asked whether he could send his senior partner, me. He told me that I would enjoy it and to make sure to take my golf clubs along.
So there I was, at Tokyo central Station, golf clubs and a bag of casual weekend clothes, standing under the clock looking for a small dark haired guy with glasses similarly equipped.
Things went like clockwork, as they always do in Japan, and before I knew what was happening I was seated on a bullet train with Yuki heading for the coast.
We had a beer or three, well I did, Yuki didn't drink a lot and we talked mainly about golf. What the local course was like, handicaps, what sort of competition we would play? How many people were in the group? Idle chatter. It seemed that there were twelve of us up for the weekend leaving tea time Sunday. We were certainly playing Saturday and maybe Sunday, probably a simple Stableford competition. What did surprise me was there were six members of the company, all fairly senior and six guests, one each from a customer.
I guessed it was a good way of getting perks for the management.
We would be staying at a Ryokan, a traditional Inn, often with hot spring baths with tatami mats and usually ten courses of raw fish plus some cold porridge for breakfast. I always found that the evening meals were magnificent but raw fish and cold porridge at breakfast was too much for me. I would always ask for just coffee but often ended up with only green tea. I just hoped that I had a room of my own because quite often the larger rooms were used as dormitories.
They had organised a bus for the eight of us that were on the train. I assumed that some had driven down or possible gone down earlier.
The bus was pretty quiet. Certainly nobody spoke to me so I had had no reason to show that I spoke Japanese. I could see some of the others giving me odd looks. I usually found it better to surprise people, perhaps put them on the back foot if they said something about me, which I had obviously understood. I guess I understood their reticence to talk to me. There is still quite a lot of Gaijin (foreigner) phobia around particularly in rural Japan. As it happens my Japanese was absolutely fluent with no specific accent. I am told that on the telephone you could not tell that you were talking to a Gaijin. I guess I would be classed as a bit of a nerd generally, so while I had not found studying the language particularly easy it had absorbed me to the extent that it would have been the only really decent thing on my CV. I was certainly good enough to put people at their ease once we had started talking. Perhaps tell a political joke or two on the golf course.
Anyway here we were just before seven, our golf bags had been left for the hotel to store and our clothes bags had been whisked away to our rooms. The first of the alcohol was laid out on trestle tables in a room that was obviously going to be used for dinner. There was the usual choice of beer, soft drinks, sake and at the back whisky and sho-chu, a sort of plum brandy. There would be some unsteady heads on the golf course next day.
A line of low tables had been put out in the normal way, six on one side six on the other. I am very comfortable sitting on the floor now, I have got used to it, particularly as there were cushions to sit on.
We all had a few drinks and I did at least get to meet most of the people, including their Chairman and their Finance Director. They were nothing but charming as soon as they realised that I spoke fluent Japanese and was comfortable with small talk and business shop-talk.
After nearly an hour we were advised that we should be off to our rooms to change and freshen up and would be expected to be back in the dining room for dinner at eight thirty and that the dress code for dinner was the yukatas, or dressing gowns, that were supplied to the room. This was very informal and pointed to a short evening and an early start in the morning. I was delighted to be shown to a small, but traditional, tastefully decorated room, looking out over a scrupulously neat little garden with its own bathroom. Wonder of wonders.
We gathered and I was seated toward the middle with Yuki immediately opposite me and their chairman in the other middle chair to his left. All we guests were on the one side as is usual. We started off with beers and before long I was drinking the sake as well. It is normal to keep the person sitting opposite you topped up with alcohol from the bottle or flask so Yuki had a full-time job on his hands.
We had a really good meal. The works, sushi, sashimi, tempura, a soup or two and a shabu-shabu, effectively as a main course. It is an unusual main even in good restaurants and I wondered how much the fact that they were entertaining a Gaijin had affected the menu. It really is quite a touristy dish where you cook the meat yourself, in this case wafer thin pieces of wagyu beef, in stock mixed with vegetables, noodles and chillis. Whoever it was for, I really appreciated it and made sure that our hosts knew.
It was nearly eleven o'clock and I was ready for sleep in order to have a cool head on the golf course in the morning.
It was then that I realised by the actions of the others around me that we were expecting some form of entertainment. I wondered whether it would be in order to miss it but decided that would be too rude.
Sure enough in a few moments, there was a nod from a guy at the back of the room where a full length curtain fell over what appeared to be a low stage.
Yuki stood up, went to this small stage and took hold of the microphone.
'Gentlemen, I hope you will enjoy the entertainment we have planned for you this weekend. I will sit down now and let our performers introduce themselves.'
As he took his seat once again a lady of about thirty took centre stage. It seemed to me that she looked embarrassed being there but was determined to do whatever she had been paid to do. The translation that follows is as close as I can get to the exact meaning, some of which was expressed in an incredibly round –about fashion, all nuances and hints rather than a straightforward message.
'Gentlemen, Honourable Customers of the Takefuni Group of Companies. My name is Rin Takehashi and I am here today to thank the Takefuni organisation for not sending me to prison for non-payment of many of the debts that I ran up betting on the price of shares. I foolishly allowed myself to get carried away and gambled much more than I could afford.'
She seemed to take a big swallow and then continued, looking only at her feet as if this was a difficult admission.
'I am here this weekend to thank them the best way that I know and to promise all of you, guests and company officials alike that I will do all I can to make your weekend enjoyable.'
We all applauded this honourable sentiment but then I think I was the only one in the room who was shocked when she started to remove her formal business suit. First the jacket, then the blouse, skirt, tights and finally her bra. She stood before us just dressed in a pair of skimpy panties.
She took a deep breath, and said into the microphone, 'I must repeat that I will do absolutely anything to ensure your happiness this weekend.' She then pulled her panties down threw them into a pile with her other clothes at the side of the stage, spun round so that we could see her bottom as well and walked to the side of the stage where there was a yukata like ours waiting for her.
The other guests cheered and laughed, but while I tried to follow suit I felt nothing but sadness that this poor lady had been coerced into who knows what activities this weekend. Surely she didn't mean..... Maybe she did.
She was quickly followed by a second woman, this time I would suggest in her early forties who repeated, but in her own words very much what the first girl had said. This time however she had spent beyond her means in the nightclubs and 'Host' bars of Shibuya. These are slightly sleazy bars where ladies could find a male companion for the evening.
Six times this happened. All of the girls were attractive, Milfs mainly although a couple were still very young looking, perhaps in their late teens or early twenties. Each of them had a short tale of woe, debt through gambling perhaps, drug addiction, nightclubs, and one had just spent far more than she could afford on shoes and handbags. This was one of the younger girls, a follower of the gyaru fashion trend. Blonde dyed hair, a heavy tan, large, probably false, breasts and slutty clothes, but an absolute cracker of a body. I wondered how much debt she had incurred to be humiliated in such a fashion.
They all however seemed to find significance in the words 'I must repeat that I will do absolutely anything to ensure your happiness this weekend,' as they pulled their panties off.
I was determined to have as little to do with these poor girls as possible. I wondered again whether this was the time to go to bed.
Their Chairman, Sato-san I shall call him, as we were not yet on first name terms, addressed me in broken English, 'There Peter, you see how much trouble we have undertaken to help you enjoy yourself this weekend. You will let me know which girls have particularly looked after you well this weekend and I will personally help them with their problems. Hai.'
He sat back very pleased with himself and I had no option but to grovel in my best Japanese fashion and thank him in Japanese, in advance, for what I assured him would be a memorable weekend. Memorable was going to be the word.
'In the meantime,' he said reverting back to Japanese, 'in case everybody forgets to tell you we will meet up here early tomorrow morning just before seven. Just dress as you are now. A very enjoyable time for all.' Again I had no idea what he was talking about.
In the meantime the six girls had dressed in their yukatas and had slowly walked over to the guest's side of the long table. They each sat down beside one of us. The older looking of the ladies who had spent all her money in the nightclubs on young 'hosts' sitting on my left immediately started talking to me in very poor stilted English.
I was able to thank her but reassure her, in her own tongue that I was perfectly capable of understanding everything that she said.
She was obviously both relieved and intrigued and far from her stuttering performance on the stage became a vital and amusing hostess. More drinks were served and I was barely able to keep her sake cup filled before she had emptied it again. Desserts, sticky cakes with whipped cream were served to all, including the ladies I noticed. I had never been a fan of such food but was felt it was only right to appear to enjoy some, as Akai, as I found out was her name, fed me with pieces from the ends of her chopsticks.
She accidentally dropped a small piece of whipped cream from the end of her chopstick onto my chest where the yukata was opening out as I turned to talk to her. She was just so apologetic and would not take no for an answer as I tried to stop her licking the cream from my chest. As I struggled to stop her I looked around, in embarrassment that this lady was being forced to become over-friendly merely because I was a guest.
I suddenly realised how naive I was because most of the other girls were almost topless and enduring, or possibly even enjoying, the slobberings of the male guests as they licked cream from their breasts or played with their nipples with their chopsticks.
I heard her vaguely using words that I thought meant loosen up, relax, enjoy. My linguistic skills appeared to have flown out of the window.
She quickly smeared cream on her nearest nipple and pushed herself towards me in order that I could suck it off. I did.
I could see that Yuki sitting opposite me was encouraging both me and Akai to go further.
'Yes Peter, enjoy yourself. Play with her mammaries.'
His English was quite good but even so I wondered whether to correct his use of vocabulary and substitute tits for mammaries as a more suitable word. I decided to go with the flow, ignore him and concentrate on getting all the cream off whatever they were called.
She quickly had her hand inside my yukata and was feeling for my cock inside my underwear.
'Peter,' said Yuki, this time in Japanese. 'Akai here was very worried that like a lot of Gaijin you might have a penis that would be too big for her. Is that still a problem Akai?'
'No,' she said. 'He is not a problem. I have it here. Of course it is larger than yours Hito-san.' She was obviously teasing him as if she knew him well. Surely not? 'But then all Gaijin have bigger cocks than you,' she concluded laughing up at him.
He merely laughed back at her and said, 'But you must see how he uses it. The proof is in the eating of the pie.'
I looked around and saw that some of the hosts and indeed a couple of the guests were beginning to say good night.
Addressing both Yuki and Akai I said 'It appears to be late. Maybe we should be going to bed, especially if there is an early start.'
'Indeed,' said Yuki jumping to his feet before bowing to me. 'Enjoy your night. I will see you early tomorrow for some fun and then we will play golf.' I had no idea what he was talking about until Akai grabbed me firmly by the hand, bowed towards the Chairman, Sato-san and with a cheeky little grin started to drag me towards my room.
It was only then that I realised that the playacting from the stage was about to culminate in the night being spent with this delightful creature. While I wasn't a virgin, just, Akai was going to be both my first Asian conquest, if this was the right word, and only my second overall.
Logically the more I thought about it conquest was entirely the wrong word, but victim, sounded I felt, unduly pessimistic. Whatever, I was hers for the night.
Amazingly she seemed to know which room I was in, and while being always respectful showed a will of iron in getting me to stand on the tatami mat while she removed both my yukata and my boxer shorts.
My cock was rampant by now, as she had practically dragged me by it along the hotel corridor.
She sank to her knees and engulfed my cock in her mouth, licking and lapping on it as she dribbled spittle along its length. This was a new experience for me and I quickly found myself holding the back of her head and thrusting into her mouth as I unleashed a torrent of cum.
I was then utterly contrite and apologetic. In my best formal Japanese manner I bowed deeply before her, abasing myself for lacking the control over my basic urges and telling her that it would never happen again, asking if she could forgive me this time.
My eyes never rose above my feet as I awaited her reaction. I half expected her to start screaming or calling for the hotel management.
Instead I found my lowered head firmly grasped and kissed. Right on the lips. Indeed looking back upon the incident I swear that I felt and tasted what was probably my cum still on her tongue as it forced it's way between my teeth.
Yet again she had managed to shock me with her actions. After kissing me deeply like this for some moments she pulled me down onto the mat on my back and practically jumped on top of me. Somehow her yukata had disappeared and she writhed and wriggled on top of me kissing, as I now remember, every part of my body.
She kissed under my arms and sucked on my toes. She nibbled on my inner thighs, licked the back of my knees and even, and here I nearly fainted with pleasure, tried to force her tongue into my back passage. I was overwhelmed with passion and emotion.
I could not hold on to any part of her long enough to kiss her. As I moved my mouth towards her she would move her mouth to some other part of my body and I would practically cry with frustration. Eventually I suspected that she did not want me to kiss her, as her mouth yet again encircled my dick, her nose nuzzled my testicles and her fingers again played with my bum. Her knees were either side of my ears and all I could see was the slit between her legs and her bumhole. I noticed that her slit was red and appeared swollen. It was also wet and dripping with sweat. She must have been working very hard. I gently touched her with one finger to hear her squeal. I rapidly removed my finger assuming that I had hurt her.
She lifted herself off me and sat straight up. I started to apologise again.
She interrupted me and said in broken English, 'Why you no eat.'
'Eat?' I said, feeling stupid.
She looked bemused for a moment and then appeared to make a decision. She threw her leg back over my head and sat down, right on my face. She rubbed her wet lips up and down my mouth and from side to side across my face. My spectacles were sent flying.
Her delicious wet lips perhaps I should have said. I had no idea that they would have yielded such a delightful taste and odour.
I started licking the length of the slit and heard Akai say to herself, 'At last. Now he is doing better. Lick me. Tongue me. Chew me. Push your tongue up my......' My linguistic skills had not entirely deserted me at this stage but I did learn a new word that I guessed, and guessed correctly, to be cunt. A word I hardly knew in English in fact. Although again, I was more familiar with the name than this new object of desire.
As she licked me and I licked her she quickly became wetter and wetter and I was forced to push her off me from time to time just to breathe. I did consider that if I did die now, as a result of not being able to breathe perhaps, my life had not been entirely wasted. These last few minutes had been a revelation.