I was born more than three years ago, with full of national sadness and family hatred, and with the blessing of the classmates before the departure of the Nanjing Massacre of the collation, I set foot on the land of Japan, and started a three-year life of study abroad. When I first came to Japan, due to the language barrier brought about by all kinds of inconvenience in life, the mood of loneliness, not to mention, the language barrier also makes me in the local relations with the opposite sex, the mouth and hands, the gentleman to lose ground. At one time I thought of hiding in obscurity here and being a regular foreign student. However, my life in Japan changed dramatically after I was admitted to the graduate school of a local university.
I had my first sexual experience since my second year of college. I was so fresh that I couldn’t stop when I was done, and from then on, I had a lot of fun in bed without any interruptions. The first year I came to Japan became a blank period in my sex life. Fortunately, the first year was busy with exams, to that file of things, but also have no time to care about other. Once the exams were over, the matter of enrollment was finalized, and the mood was relaxed, the idea was to return from the big head to the head of the turtle, and then I was eager to get up. Every time in the street to see the pure and beautiful Japanese girls, meat stick always want to break out of the nest, embarrassment. Japanese women, in addition to worship since the Meiji Vaixin Westernization policy, the gift of open style, the Japanese language unique difference between men and women, so that the girl to speak, the sound of Yan Yan language, not titillating. After learning by ear, it is in the heart of a volunteer: “must be in my lifetime, find a Japanese girl, ‘sleep with his mother for a night’ (language out of the “Two Score Shooting”)!” This volunteer was the second one since I aspired to be president in the third grade. In June of ’94, at the turn of spring and summer, a local community group hosted an international exchange garden party featuring international students. International students from Taiwan were also invited to organize their own booth. I was in charge of the Taiwan international students’ booth. In addition to the Taiwanese snack oyster noodle threads, I also brought out my specialty snacks as one of the booth vendors. On that day, we were busy in a makeshift tent under the sun. The number of Japanese residents who came to the fair that day was larger than we expected. From the crowd, a pleasant voice said, “It’s so cute! Who made this cake?” Attracted by this voice, I, who had been tidying up my booth, looked up in the direction of the voice. It was a Japanese girl in her early twenties, holding a small bag and looking at my cake with an incredulous expression. The foreign students, who were also helping out, rushed to introduce me to the girl in Japanese: “KOUSAN, KOUSAN!” “This is our special chef!” The girl gave me a good look and couldn’t help but smile, “I didn’t realize it was made by a boy.”
I nodded in embarrassment. The girl once again shifted her gaze to the cake. The girl was wearing a long skirt, had a googly-eyed face, straight ebony hair at shoulder level, and her eyes, gazing at the cake, appeared large and bright. A typical Japanese girl. Her right hand gently twisted a small piece of the cake and held it in her left hand, bringing it into her mouth without delay. The smile surfaced on her face once again.
It was a June day, and the sun was already shining stupidly in the Kanto region. I dropped my stall and talked with the girl in the shade. Shige Hiragushi, 24 years old, graduated from a junior college in Tokyo. She is actually an expert when it comes to cooking. I kept saying to her in Japanese, “I apologize!” We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to start talking to each other tomorrow, in order to “learn from each other”.
From that day on, the phone calls went from once a week to once every three days, and finally to almost every day. The topic of conversation went from cooking to everything. I got to know her better. She was an only child, and her family was well off, owning several houses in Kawasaki City. Her father was diagnosed with cancer this year and is currently in a hospital room. Her conversations with me were filled with anxiety about her father’s condition.
“Let us pray together! Perhaps your father, who is hovering before the gates of hell, may be called back.” In my letter to her, I so comforted her.
The first date was in September. She arrived near my school about a hundred kilometers away from her residence in Yokohama. “If you didn’t come to me, I had to come to you.” Those were the first words she said to me when she got off the long-distance bus. I drove her to the nearby supermarket to do some shopping, because we had agreed the night before that we would cook with her and watch her perform. We brought home the ingredients and worked together to clean the vegetables before she prepared them for cooking.
She was wearing a scarf and her knife skills were skillful and fast as she sliced on the drill board. I watched her back while chatting happily with her. “KOUSAN, the way Chinese cuisine is cut, is it any different?” She suddenly turned around and asked me as if she realized something. I pointed my finger at the kitchen knife in her hand and said with a smile, “At least the knife is different.” As I said that, I noticed that the surface of her left hand was covered in vegetable shavings. I reached up and wiped it away, sliding my fingertips down to her palm. That one move brought an unexpected silence for the next half second.
“KOUSAN, what do you think of me as a friend?” She broke the silence, her smile packing up. I thought briefly, not intending to answer her head on, and my arms went around her from behind.
“KOTAE NI NATTEIRU ?” (Is that any way to answer you?) I said narrowly.
She didn’t speak, her body leaning against my chest, both hands holding my arms, her eyes closed thoughtfully, then she opened them again.
“KOUSAN, my father’s condition, it seems, is not going to work, and over the past few days, I have gradually come to see you as my only spiritual support. I had to pull my face down to come to you today. But I won’t regret it.”
I went to sit with her on the room’s collapsed floor. The slanting sun came in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the shadows of the two of us trailed, folding several times across the large six-pack room. I got up, drew the curtains, and went back to sit cross-legged beside her. She was face to face with me, and my hands went up and around her neck, and my mouth came up, so I kissed her deeply. Her sniffling had disrupted the pace. My hands moved to her shoulders inside her blouse, then to her bra straps. She was alerted to this prologue of my movements. “I didn’t come to you just to have sex.” She said, half-seriously. “I know. I’ll be measured.” I replied. The hands that were already inside her shirt continued to take advantage of the situation to remove her bra. “Let me take a shower before I do that.” She said. I nodded.
She straightened her blouse slightly, asked me for a towel, and went into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, she came out of the bathroom with only a towel around her body. I carried her into the quilt, pulled off her towel, and took off my own clothes, and the two of us suddenly became two white fish. My tongue, from the swipe of its neck, gradually slid to below the neck, hands holding her breasts, began to suck on her nipples. “KIMOCHI II!” She softly spat the word from her throat in a delicate voice.
I took advantage of the situation and my tongue probed right into her pussy, and the tip of my tongue began to tease at her clit as love juices flowed from her pussy. Her legs stiffened and relaxed at times, and the sounds that came from her throat seemed to have dissolved into soft singing.
“You can stick it in.” She gestured.
“I told you I’d be measured.” I declaratively repeated my agreement once more. “But you’ve made it this far,?” She said bitterly. I then forced my hard cock under her, sliding it into her warm, wet pussy with little effort. After a few strokes, she said, “Will you let me be on top?” I obliged her, and the battle resumed as the top and bottom shifted. She let out an “Oh”. “Does that hurt?” I asked her nervously. She shook her head, “Yes it does!” Her hips swayed like a horse, her cervix pushed against my glans with abandon, and after nearly twenty minutes of fighting, she finally let out one last cry, and I had no problem cumming.
That night, with my arm resting on her head, the two of us fell into a deep sleep.
It was the first day of the date. Neither she nor I knew beforehand: it turned out to be more of a night than a day. When I woke up in the morning, she was still lying in my arms. I couldn’t help but gently stroke up her hair, just to make sure it wasn’t a dream. If it was a dream, I was going to hate myself for letting it wake up so soon.
She opened her eyes almost as soon as my hand touched her hair. Looks like she didn’t sleep well either.
“I love you,” I couldn’t help the words that came out of my mouth. She didn’t make a sound, her face was pressed against my chest, occasionally looking up at me before burying herself in my chest again. After a long time, she finally spoke. “Really?”
Will Hui ah, June to September, stalked in the throat, can not be spit out or swallowed, it is these three words. Do you still have doubts? If I could, I would have told her everything that was on my mind, but unfortunately my Japanese was not good enough at that time, and the difference between what I was thinking and what I was saying was still too great.
“Really.” I answered her simply, but forcefully. She smiled flirtatiously, and the two of them embraced in another long kiss. Then, of her own accord, she explored my pantyhose, removed my pajama pants, and gently pulled the thing out and shoved it into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. “It’s a 5,000 year old Chinese organ, still happy?” That was my first yellow joke to her. She understood my humor and couldn’t help but laugh out loud, saying, “The feeling you give off just doesn’t go with the jokes you make!”
After all her flirting, we started another game. Still take her favorite female on male position. The morning sunlight had already knocked through the curtains outside the window; however, the people in the room were still in the middle of the battle.
We had breakfast at a restaurant near our place, and then I put her on a long-distance bus to Tokyo.
I’m boyfriend and girlfriend with her now. She’s a good girlfriend in terms of girlfriendly feelings, and on top of that, the good thing about having a Japanese girlfriend is that it helps open an extra window on your life in Japan. She’ll tell you which street in Harajuku is the liveliest; she’ll point out where the Mitsukoshi department store in Ginza is; she’ll help you negotiate with the Japanese government offices; and she’ll teach you Japanese that you couldn’t learn even in a classroom. And, of course, the pouting during sex is Japanese woman style.
When I was not in class, I would go straight to Yokohama, and whenever I was in Yokohama, I would stay there for several days, and this had become the norm. All my classmates, including my Japanese classmates, envied my good fortune and told me that my life in Japan was the most enjoyable.
However, things have not always gone so smoothly.
In retrospect, it seems that she and I have traveled without a hitch. From the moment we met to the moment we became boyfriend and girlfriend could be described as lightning fast. I have long been unaware of the existence of nationality in my relationship with her. “If you go back to your country, I will follow you.” She has expressed this to me more than once.
Walking with her on the shopping street of Harajuku, while she was picking out the goods in the store, I purposely walked to a corner opposite the store and looked at her from a distance. God, she was so beautiful. I do like her, and if I had to choose again in this crowd, the answer would still be the same.
The problem that had existed ever since I met her had resurfaced, and it was even worse: Shige’s father had reached the stage of being critically ill. In November, she had to travel from Yokohama to her home in Kawasaki City. We didn’t see each other for a whole month. During this month, we kept in touch by phone and letters. Her mother, who lived in Kawasaki City, knew that I existed. She was strongly against her daughter dating a foreigner. If she received a letter from me, she said coldly to Shige, “That kousan of yours has written.”
There’s no way that Shou-Huei will come back to Taiwan with me. With her father gone, her mother is the only one left at home, and I can’t bear to put her in a dilemma.
On December 24, Christmas Eve, she met me in Yokohama for the first time in over a month, despite all the difficulties. At her place, she showed me a picture of her father and a picture of her and him together. A senior intellectual who graduated from Waseda University, a supporter of the left-wing movement who sympathized with the lower and middle classes. “What a precious soul. It would be a real shame if anything were to happen to it!” I said regretfully.
Caressing her face, I was alerted to the fact that she’d lost weight, and the light makeup from Christmas Eve couldn’t hide the fact that she’d already lost weight. “Cry a lot?” I asked. She put the photo album aside, so she buried her head in my arms and wrapped her arms around me． “KOUSAN, let’s not talk about sentimental things tonight, okay?”
I nodded. I watched the videotape with her for an hour while she stared at the TV screen, barely glancing at me. Probably to “declare my sovereignty”, I took the initiative to touch her body. She seemed to be mentally prepared for this, and automatically removed her clothes one by one. The TV continued to play content that had nothing to do with the atmosphere of the room, and the fluorescent light shone on both of our bodies, making us climax more quickly than usual this evening. After a few moments of warmth, she finally couldn’t help herself and sobbed. Looking at her, I intuited what she wanted to say, and it seemed like I could already guess three times. “After tonight, let’s not see each other again.” She slowly uttered these words after a long silence. The meaning was in the words as much as in the words.
“JYA, SOUSHIROU (Okay, that’s it!)” My answer came almost out of my mouth. She was slightly stunned.
“You won’t ask me why?” She looked at me, tears flowing uncontrollably once again. “I’m going to stay in Kawasaki and take care of Dad. You’re in Ibaraki, I don’t know when we’ll see each other; you’re on campus, there are so many people to pick from, do you really think our relationship can last? …”
“All of this is secondary, isn’t it?” After I interrupted her, I continued, “Your mother’s opposition is the main reason, isn’t it?” I single-handedly articulated my suspicions.
“Don’t think so much.” She dropped the sentence and added nothing more, while the teardrops were allowed to remain on her face.
I could hardly wait until morning. I reluctantly stayed in her room only after she pleaded with me a hundred times, and on the following day, I arranged my clothes, kissed her on the cheek, and left without looking back.
Since the university, I think in the love field has been a hundred battles, but this time the parting actually let me have like a knife cut like hard! I returned home, heard her choked phone message, can no longer pretend to be dashing, wantonly let out a loud cry ….. After Shige’s father passed away, we met once. Until I left Japan, I never saw her again. Last year, I started my first job and was sent to Japan on a business trip in May, where I met her again. She already had a boyfriend. “To this day, my current boyfriend is still jealous of the part I had with you.” She laughed bitterly.
Afterword: Sex without love cannot be called sex. In addition to human beings, no other animals in the natural world can sublimate this basic procedure of succession into the pleasure of fish and water, only because love plays a great role in the process of sex. Smiling life to personal experience, the pen and write a small article, a heel of the early years of the Republic of China Zhang Jingsheng big of the legacy, but I hope to stir up the empathy of the herdsman gentleman!