Chapter 1
I have been asked more than once what is so great about foreign girls and why are you so keen on finding them? Those who say this will never understand this question, and I believe my reason is sufficient to convince your friends.
It is often said that there are three stations in life: the dining table, the bed, and the toilet. So if one of these three things is as good as it gets, then you can’t give it up. As an ordinary person, it’s good to have one of the perfect one, and I found one thing, she can make you get two of these three items to fulfill, that is the foreign girl.
Yoni is a cozy bed that can lift your spirits when you sleep; Yoni is also a special toilet that makes her purr with pleasure when you excrete the hot streams in your body, do you think such a thing is marvelous?
In my senior year of college, I had unforgettable sex with a foreign girl, which strengthened my determination to find a foreign girl.
I remember the night I was playing pool at the club and I was the only one in the whole hall. Not long afterward, a foreign girl came. She asked me in pure English: “Can I play with you?”
“Sure.” I replied.
“Should we bet on the winner?” She said to me with a raised smile.
“I don’t have any money, I’m poor.” I replied timidly.
“That way, we don’t bet money, we bet flesh.” She replied.
I was dumbfounded: “How do you bet on the flesh?”
“Simple as that.” She immediately replied, “If you lose, you have to pay for my sleep; if I lose, I’ll buy you a hamburger.”
I agreed to her proposal. It turned out, of course, that I lost, and why wouldn’t I?
She was very dry and came with me. We went to the school’s pleasure forest – it was a dense wood.
She took off her clothes extremely quickly, including her bra & panties. I was stunned; her breasts were white and large, hanging proudly from her chest like gourds back home. I greeted her and hugged her tightly, kissing her furiously on her two scarlet lips. She hugged me tightly too, pressing her fiery lips against me in the same way, and then, arching her tongue in and out of my mouth with extremely loud noises.
My arousal was driven up so I leaned down and took her nipple and sucked on it there. She let out an invocation of pleasure, and as she did so, she reached down to my pants. I reached down and unbuckled my belt, so my bare cock was exposed.
She leaned down and took my cock firmly in her mouth and licked it there, the warmth of her mouth quickly spread throughout my body and I just felt as comfortable as if my cock was being baked. Finally I pulled out and slid my cock all the way up to the opening of her vagina, and with one hard thrust, my cock was all the way in.
Her screams, resonated throughout the campus, I was pumping my penis, while covering her mouth with my hand, for fear that her screams would startle others. But she didn’t care, her hips thrusting upwards to meet me, and every time she did, a series of obscenities came out of her mouth: “Boy, my cunt is about to burst, it’s full of water… aaahhh… it’s so fucking good.”
Both of her hands grabbed my ass and pulled upward as hard as she could, as if I wasn’t strong enough. I felt her nails drill into me like they were clawing into my flesh.
I jerked and kept stirring inside as she let out a piercing scream and grabbed my hair with both hands, tearing at it.
Suddenly, the flash flood erupted, and both of our bodies paused briefly to let out a long, shared howl of relief. We both went limp on the lawn for a few minutes before recovering.
She stroked my penis and said, “I’ve always thought that Oriental men were too bad at sex, but today you were really, really great.”
“I have not made love with a foreigner, and when I saw you today, I felt so uplifted by your passion.” I chimed in.
So we made a deal to do it once a week, and that period of time was something I’ll never forget. So I vowed to find a foreign girl to be my wife, or at least someone with a foreigner’s temperament. It was under these circumstances that I married my current wife.
A couple like us is probably unique in the world. I will try to write about this situation as honestly and truthfully as I can, and it will be an unforgettable and precious record for me, and it will surely be of some reference value to you, the readers. Especially nowadays, when Japan’s international contacts are increasing, and when there are frequent exchanges between nationals and foreigners, and when there is an influx of all kinds of doctrines and trends of thought, men, not to mention women, are scrambling to catch up with the latest fashions. Although there is no precedent for this kind of relationship between husband and wife, I am afraid that under the current fashions, some people may unknowingly follow in our footsteps.
Looking back, we were a different couple from the beginning. I first met my present wife about eight years ago, but I can’t remember the exact date. Anyway, she was still working as a waitress at a store called Diamond Café near Asakusa Thunder Gate, and she was only fifteen years old. That’s why when I first met her, she was an unassuming novice who had just arrived at the café, not a full-fledged waitress, but a trainee. She was a trainee, not a full-fledged hostess, but a waitress.
I was twenty-eight years old. Why I was attracted to such a child was a mystery even to myself. I guess it was because I was attracted to her name from the start. Everyone called her “Ami,” but once I found out her real name was Sachiko. She also looked a bit like a Westerner, and seemed very intelligent, so I thought it would be a shame to have her work as a waitress in a place like this.
In fact, Sachiko’s looks (for the record, I’m going to write her name as I pronounce it, but otherwise I don’t think I’d appreciate its foreign flavor) are similar to that of the movie starlet Mary K. Pickford, and they do bear a slight resemblance to her. There is a resemblance to movie star Mary Pickford, and it does have a foreign flavor to it. This is by no means a reflection on me, and even now, when she is my wife, there are many people who still say this, so it is undoubtedly true.
And she not only looks like a foreigner, stripped naked to see, that body shape more with foreign flavor. Of course, I realized this later, and I didn’t know her that well at the time. Only from the kimono that she was wearing properly, I imagined that since she had this kind of appearance, her hands and feet must not be bad either.
It’s probably hard to understand the feelings of a fifteen or sixteen year old girl when you’re not her biological parent or sibling. So I can’t tell you what Sachiko’s personality was like during the café days. Even Sachiko herself could only say, “It was all like a dream.”
But, if I may speak personally, she seemed to me to be a melancholy and uncommunicative child. Her face was a little greenish, as if she had overlapped several panes of colorless, transparent glass, and showed a deep hue that did not look healthy. One of the reasons for this impression was probably due to the fact that she was a newcomer to the country, not painted like the other waitresses, and had no familiar guests or friends, but was always quietly tucked away in a corner, working desperately without a word. Perhaps it was for this reason that she appeared to be intelligent.
Here, it is necessary for me to explain my experience. At that time, I was a technician at an electrical appliance company, earning 150 yen a month. I was born in Teitomiya, Itagi Prefecture, and after finishing junior high school in my hometown, I went to Tokyo and entered Zaozen’s industrial technical school, and soon after graduating from the technical school, I became a technician. I worked as a technician soon after graduating from the technical school. Every day except Sunday, I traveled from my home in Shibaguchi to work at the company in Onamachi.
I rented an apartment by myself, and since I had a monthly salary of $150, I was quite well off. Moreover, although I was the eldest son, I did not have to send money to my parents and brothers back home. Although my father was no longer with us, my elderly mother and faithful uncles and aunts took care of everything without my having to worry about them. However, I also did not let go of the bad habits of eating, drinking, whoring and gambling, roughly a model of civil servants – thrifty , serious, mediocre almost dull trigger, every day, dedicated to work, without the slightest complaint and dissatisfaction.
That’s probably what happened to me. Speaking of “Taro Matsuyama”, there was even a “gentleman” in the company.
The beauty of the name.
When it comes to my entertainment, the most I can do is go to the movies in the evening, or take a walk on Ginza-dori, and once in a while spare some money for a trip to the Imperial Theater. However, as an unmarried young man, I was not uninterested in meeting young women. I was a country bumpkin, not a social person, and had no contact with the opposite sex, so perhaps that’s why I became a “gentleman”. However, this “gentleman” was only superficial, but in my heart, I was always on the lookout for women, whether I was walking down the street or riding the train every morning. It was at this time that Sachiko appeared in front of me by chance.
However, it was not that I thought at the time that there were no beauties prettier than Sachiko. It went without saying that many of the girls who passed me on the train, in the corridors of the Imperial Theater, and on the streets of Ginza were prettier than Sachiko. Whether or not Sachiko will become even more beautiful is a matter for the future. The future of a fifteen-year-old girl was both promising and worrying. So my initial plan was to prepare the child and take care of her myself. If there is a future for her, let her get a good education, and I will take her as my wife.
I had thought of this step, partly out of sympathy for her, and partly because I wanted to make a little change in my own overly mediocre and monotonous life. To be honest, I have lived in a rented house for years and years, I have had enough, I have long wanted to add a little color and warmth to this joyless life.
For that reason, wouldn’t it be nice to live in a separate residence and hire a maid to decorate the rooms, raise flowers and plants, hang a birdcage on the sunny balcony, prepare meals, do hygiene work, and so on? If Sachiko came, she would be able to do the maid’s work as well as act as a bird. At the time, I had that intention.
Someone must have asked: Why don’t you get a decent marriage and create a proper family just for that?
In the final analysis, this was because at that time I did not have the courage to get married. On this point, a detailed explanation is necessary.
I’m kind of a rule-follower, I don’t like and I don’t do anything out of the ordinary. However, strangely enough, I have a rather radical and up-to-date view on marriage. When it comes to the word “marriage”, people generally emphasize that the wedding should be solemn and well-ceremonialized. First of all, someone has to lead the way, unobtrusively testing the meaning of the two parties, followed by “matchmaking”. If there are no objections between the two parties, a matchmaker is formally invited to exchange betrothal gifts and send the dowry to the in-laws. The dowry varies from five, seven, or thirteen dowries, and then the bride leaves the house and travels to the bride’s home. Returning to the bride’s home… There is a very complicated process to go through. I found this very annoying. I thought that if I were to get married myself, I would have to do it in a simpler, freer way.
In those days, if I wanted to get married, there was probably no shortage of applicants. I was a countryman by birth, but of robust physique and good character. It may be ridiculous to say that, as a man, my manners are no less than average, and my influence in the company is also good, no matter who, probably will be willing to help me this favor. But actually because I do not like to let people do this favor, so there is no way. Even if the most beautiful beauty, through one or two blind dates is not possible to understand each other’s temperament and character, at most say a “well, in that case” or “quite beautiful” and so on. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to decide my life’s partner on the basis of a fleeting impression!
It seems the best way to take a young girl like Sachiko home, watch her grow little by little, and if I like her, marry her. Because I don’t want to marry a rich girl or an educated girl, I am satisfied to do what I want.
Moreover, I think that it is different from forming a formal family in that there is a lot of fun in treating a young girl as a friend, in a relaxed and cheerful mood, living together in an independent house like a game, and watching her development and growth all the time. In other words, Sachiko and I will play a child’s game together, without the complicated meaning of “starting a family”, but will live a leisurely and simple life, and this is my hope.
In fact, in today’s Japanese “family”, the necessity of closets, long fire pits, seat cushions, etc.; the clear division of responsibilities between the master, the wife and the maid; the discordant relations with close relatives, etc., not only entail additional costs, but also complicate matters that could be easily resolved. This is by no means pleasant for young civil servants. I believe my plan is a good idea in this respect.
I remember telling Sachiko about this intention about two months after I met her. Until then, I went to the Diamond Café whenever I could and tried to find opportunities to get close to her. Sachiko loved movies so much that on holidays she would go with me to the movie theater in the park and on the way back to a small western restaurant or noodle shop for a meal.
Even on such occasions, Sachiko, who was a quiet person, rarely spoke up, and generally kept her face tense, not knowing whether she was happy or bored. Nevertheless, when I invited her, she never refused, but quickly said, “Yes, I can go,” and followed me wherever I went.
Although I can’t figure out what kind of person she thinks I am and why she went with me, I can imagine that she is still a real child, not to look at a man with skepticism. Probably just out of an extremely simple, naïve idea that this “uncle” to take themselves to their favorite places, often invite themselves to dinner, so go with him to play.
At that time, I had no ulterior motives for her, and I only hoped that she would be satisfied with me as her friend and kind uncle, and that I would not let her see that I had longer-term plans. When I think of those dreamlike years, I still feel that I was living in a fairy tale, and I really want to live those pure and innocent days again.
“Well? Sachiko, can you see well?” I often asked this whenever the small movie theater was full and the two of us could only stand in the back to watch.
“No, can’t see a thing.” Sachiko said, desperately stretching her neck to see the screen through the gap between the heads of the audience in front of her.
“So that you still can’t see, just sit on this log and grab my shoulder to see.” With that, I gave her a hand from below and sat her down on the horizontal log of dirt with the high handrail.
She dangled both her legs, one hand on my shoulder, and gazed at the screen in rapt attention.
“Is it nice?” Whenever I asked this, she just replied “yes”, never dancing with excitement. At that time, she was like a smart puppy listening to the movement in the distance, and enjoying the movie with her intelligent eyes wide open without making a sound, and it was easy to see from this expression how much she liked watching movies.
“Sachiko, are you hungry?” When I ask this, sometimes she replies, “No, I don’t want to eat anything.” But when she’s really hungry, she always says, “Yes, I am”. When I asked her what she wanted to eat, she answered frankly that she wanted to eat something, either Western food or noodles.
Chapter II
“Sachiko, you look a lot like Mary… Pickfordo.” One night, after watching a movie starring the actress, I came to a Western restaurant on my way home and mentioned it.
“Yes?” Sachiko said, and instead of showing a pleasant expression, she just looked at me as if she was incomprehensible for me to suddenly say such a thing.
“You probably don’t think so, do you?” I asked again.
“Like her or not, I don’t know, but everyone says I look like a hybrid.” She replied with a stern face.
“Not really. First of all, your name is weird. Who gave you such a foreign name as ‘Sachiko’?”
“I don’t know who started it.”
“Is it your dad or your mom?”
“Who is it? …”
“So, what does your dad do for a living?”
“Dad is gone.”
“Where’s mom?”
“Mom’s still here, but…”
“Any siblings?”
“There are brothers and sisters. Brother, sister, sister…”
Since then, we’ve talked about it a lot, too. However, whenever she was asked about her family, she always put it off in a less than pleasant manner. When we played together, we usually made an appointment the day before and met on a chair in the park or in front of the temple of the Goddess of Mercy. She was never late or missed an appointment. Sometimes I was late for something and worried that she had waited too long and might have gone back, but when I got there, she was still waiting in a regular manner, and when she saw me, she stood up and walked straight this way.
“I’m sorry, Sachiko. You waited a long time, didn’t you?” I said.
“Yeah, waiting for you.” That was all she said, looking neither disgruntled nor angry.
Sometimes the appointment was to wait on the bench, but suddenly it started raining. I thought, what will happen to her? When I ran to see her, she was crouching under the eaves of the small temple near the pool, where I didn’t know which Bodhisattva was enshrined, waiting for me. It was a touching sight.
At that time, she often wore old silk dresses that looked like her sister’s leftovers, with thin brocade sashes, her hair in a Japanese bun, a little powder on her face, and a pair of white socks with patches that fit her small feet beautifully. When I asked her why she wore her hair in a Japanese bun only on holidays, she still didn’t explain, but said, “My family told me to do it this way.”
“It’s too late tonight to drop you off at the door!” I sometimes say this.
“No, I’ll be there soon, I can make it alone.” When she came to the corner of the flower garden, Sachiko must have said “goodbye” and ran off into the small alley of Chiharu-cho.
Yes, there is no need to write down everything that happened at the time. But I do remember one time when I had a heart-to-heart talk with her.
It was probably a late April night, when the spring rain was pouring down. The coffee shop happened to be not busy that night, and it was very quiet. I sat at the table for a long time, drinking a little bit of wine. I say this as if I have a great capacity for alcohol, but in fact I have a very small capacity for alcohol. In order to pass the time, I ordered a sweet cocktail for women and sipped it a little at a time. At that moment, Sachiko came with the food.
“Sachiko, sit here for a while.” I said with a bit of drunkenness.
“What for?” Saying that, Sachiko sat down next to me like an adult, and immediately rubbed a match when she saw me pulling a cigarette out of my pocket.
“Well? How about a little chat. It doesn’t look too busy tonight.”
“Yeah, rarely like today.”
“Always that busy?”
“Busy, from morning till night. Don’t even have time to read.”
“So, you like to read!”
“Yeah, like.”
“What kind of books do you read anyway?”
“Reads all kinds of magazines and likes to read everything.”
“It’s really admirable. If you want to study so much, just go to a girls’ school.” I said that on purpose.
Observing Sachiko’s expression again, it looked like she might be angry, staring slack-jawed into the air, a sad, melancholic look clearly showing in her eyes.
“Well? Sachiko, do you really want to study? If you’re interested, I can help you go to school too.”
After hearing this, she remained silent. I said to her again in a relieved tone, “Huh? Sachiko, don’t be silent, say something. What do you want to do, what do you want to learn?”
“I want to learn English.”
“Well, English and… just English?”
“And want to learn music.”
“Then I’ll pay for your tuition and you just go and learn.”
“But it’s too late to go to a girls’ school, I’m already fifteen!”
“That’s nothing, girls are different from boys, and fifteen is not too late. But if it’s just English and music, you can also skip the girls’ school and find another teacher. What about it? Do you really want to learn?”
“It’s true that I want to learn, but… are you really going to pay for my schooling?” When Sachiko finished speaking, she looked me straight in the eyes.
“Ah, it’s true. Sachiko, but in that case, you won’t be able to work here. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that? If I can do without, I can take you back into my care, and I intend to raise you to be an outstanding woman with full responsibility for you.”
“Well, that’s just fine.” She said without hesitation. I couldn’t help but feel a little surprised to hear this dry and crisp answer.
“So, that means no work?”
“Yes, quit.”
“Sachiko, then again, even if you’re okay with it, I wonder what your mother and brother and the others would say? It’s always important to hear what the family has to say.”
“It’s okay to not listen to what your family has to say. No one can say anything.” Although she said that, she was actually worried about it.
This is also her usual style, because she does not let me know the inner workings of her family, so she deliberately pretends to be indifferent. And I am not inclined to know the things she is jealous of. However, in order to realize her hopes, in any case, to go to her home to talk seriously with her mother, or older brother. Later, with the content of our conversation progress, I have repeatedly put forward the hope to see her relatives, but she each time showed great unhappiness, always said: “do not see it does not matter, I go to say myself.”
Sachiko is now my wife. For her sake, and for the sake of the reputation of “Mrs. Taro Matsuyama,” there is no need to disclose Sachiko’s origins and experiences at that time, which would have caused her displeasure, so I have decided not to touch on this issue, which will probably become clear to you as you read on. At least, judging from the fact that her family lived in Senzoku-cho, that she started working at a coffee shop at the age of fifteen, and that she never told anyone where she lived, anyone can imagine what kind of family she was.
No, not only that, but I finally convinced Sachiko to meet with her mother and older brother. But they hardly took their daughter’s or sister’s virginity seriously.
I said to them : “It’s rare that Sachiko herself intends to study, and it seems a bit of a shame to let her work in a place like that for a long time, so if it’s okay with the family, could you entrust her to me. Anyway, can not give her to help a lot, but I am in need of a maid, just cooking and hygiene, at the same time let her get a minimum education.”
Of course, I told them everything about myself and the fact that I am still celibate.
When they heard what I said, they just said, “If that’s the case, then the child will be lucky…”
This expression of gratitude sounded too discouraging, and it seemed like there was no need to meet at all, just as Sachiko had said.
At that time, I felt painfully, there are such irresponsible parents in the world brothers, and thus also feel more pity, worthy of sympathy for Sachiko. Listening to her mother, it seemed that the family had not placed Sachiko well, and she said, “In fact, I should have let the child go to be a geisha, but she didn’t want to, and I couldn’t just let her go, so I had no choice but to send her to a coffee shop.”
If you say that, you can imagine that the family is always relieved when someone takes her in to raise her. Ah, no wonder, she went out on holidays or went to the movies because she hated being at home. It was only after I heard the above that I was able to solve the mystery.
However, Sachiko’s family situation was a blessing for her and for me. Once settled, she immediately quit her job at the coffee shop and went with me every day to look for a suitable rental apartment. My workplace was in Omotesando, so I had to try to choose a place that was easy to commute to, so we met at Shinbashi Station early on Sunday mornings, and on other days, we met in Omukai-cho at the moment when the office was closed. From Kamata, Omori, Shinagawa and Meguro, mainly from the suburbs in that area, we transferred all the way to the Takanawa, Tamachi and Mita areas in the city. When you come back, find a place to have dinner together. If there is enough time, we go to the movies as usual, or take a walk down Ginza-dori, then she goes back to her home in Chiraiya and I go back to my place in Shibaguchi.
There were very few houses for rent at that time of year, and it was difficult to find a suitable house, and that’s how we spent more than half a month.
What would one think if, on a sunny Sunday morning in May, one saw a man who looked like a clerk walking side by side on the leafy road near Omori with a little girl in a Japanese bun and shabby clothes? The man called the little girl “Kouko” and the girl called him “Mr. Matsuyama,” and they conversed courteously, inquiring for house numbers, admiring the scenery of the neighborhood, and wandering under the walls of the trees, in the gardens, and among the fragrant and beautiful flowers in bloom along the roadside. and beautiful flowers blooming by the roadside.
All day long in late spring, the duo were milling around everywhere, looking happy and thinking about how strange this pair must be.
Speaking of flowers, it occurs to me that she is very fond of Western flowers, knows the names of all sorts of flowers that I don’t know, and knows many complicated English names, which she supposedly learned naturally from being in charge of packing up vases of flowers all the time when she was working at a coffee shop.
When we occasionally passed by the door of a house with a greenhouse inside, she immediately stopped in her tracks and exclaimed excitedly, “Ah, these flowers are so beautiful!”
“Sachiko, what’s your favorite flower?”
“Tulips are my favorite.” She replied.
Perhaps it was because Sachiko grew up in the crowded alleys of Senju-cho in Asakusa that she developed a love of flowers and a fondness for the vastness of the countryside. Whenever she saw February orchids, dandelions, purple dandelions, and cherry blossoms growing on the ridges of the fields and along the roads in the village, she would immediately run over to them and pick them. After a whole day’s walk, her hands were full of picked flowers, which she tied into several bunches and carefully brought back.
“Look, aren’t all these flowers shriveled? Forget it, just throw them away!”
Despite what I said, she refused: “It’s okay, they’ll come back to life in no time when you water them.
How nice to have it on Mr. Matsuyama’s desk.”
She always gave me these flowers when we broke up.
It was this searching around that didn’t make it easy to find a suitable house, and for a while we really didn’t know what to do. In the end, we rented a rather simple Western-style house. This house was near the national tram line, about a kilometer from Omori-Higashi Station, and was called a “cultural house. At that time, the term was not very popular, but in today’s language it might be called that.
The roof of the house was covered with red slate tiles and sloped to a great extent, perhaps more than half the height of the house.
The outside walls were white and looked like a matchbox, and the walls were lined with one rectangular glass window. In front of the front porch was more of a large open space than a yard. From the looks of it, it seemed rather more interesting to paint on it than to live in it.
But no wonder, I heard that the original house was built by a painter, married a female model as his wife, and the two of them lived here, so the structure of the rooms was very inconvenient. On the first floor there is only a large empty studio, a small front door and kitchen, the second floor is six square meters and nine square meters of room each one, but this room is like a storage room in the attic, not useful. There is a staircase leading up to the attic from the studio, and a corridor with a handrail. Just like the seats of a theater, the balustrade overlooked the studio.
When Sachiko first saw the “view” of the house, she was so pleased that she exclaimed, “Ah, it’s so stylish! I love it here.”
Seeing how happy she was, I immediately agreed to rent the house. Sachiko’s preference for this house was probably due to her childlike thoughts and curiosity about the unique style of the illustrations in fairy tale books, even though the layout of the rooms and so on was not practical. The house was indeed suitable for a carefree young man and a young woman who intended to spend their days at leisure with as little domestic effort as possible, and it was probably in this same mood that the painter and the female model had lived here in the past. In fact, if only two people lived there, the studio alone would be enough.
That week night, I still had a date with Yoko to meet at the school’s Happy Forest.
She arrived on time and I remembered to ask her name. She readily told me that her name was Richard B. Mary, an American student. She told me that her name was Richard Marie and that she was an American student. I called her “Mary” cheerfully, while she kept calling out my name: Taro Matsuyama.
We undressed extremely quickly. She had been very prepared to bring a towel quilt, so she and I lay cuddled up on it.
I climbed up her body, holding her head from behind, and kissed her on the lips, gently at first, as she stuck her tongue out and licked my lips and face like a dog. Slowly, we kissed furiously, hugging and rolling together, both of us kissing so much that we couldn’t breathe, so that I braced myself to see both of her breasts, the peaks of which were like Mt. Fuji, stacked and erect, so white that they looked like the winter snow had spread them out. Her cleavage was deep, but her breasts were white and smooth, and her nipples were a dark purple color, so I was sure that she had made love to many men.
“How many men have had sex with you?” I asked her.
She froze, then said, “I could have not answered you, as the question was impolite. But I’ll answer you anyway, I think there are at least 100 of them!”
I was stunned, so I asked again, “Why do so many men like you?”
“My hot body is so intoxicating, what person would not envy it?” She replied with a smile.
As she said this, she had parted her legs, revealing the one cave. I leaned down and saw two plump labia, they appeared tender and red, like the color of the petunias that bloomed in my house. The clitoris stood straight up like a shoot out of the ground, and in between the two labia was a narrow slit, from which water was coming out one by one….
I brought my mouth up to those two fat pussy lips and kept sucking on them until the water coming out of the woman’s cunt soaked my collar.
I pressed my index finger against Mary’s clit and kept twisting and rubbing, and I could clearly see those two pussy lips change from white to red and from red to purple like a chameleon.
I rubbed her clit vigorously until my hands were sore and weak, so I rolled over and laid down to catch my breath. Her eyes lit up like she had discovered a gold or silver mine and she immediately rolled over onto my belly. She used two fingers to separate her fat pussy lips, hard on my thick hard penis, hard to sit down, I just heard “Zi” sound, penis all into the vagina.
She sat on top of me and her ass kept squirming, lifting up and down, swinging from side to side, moving in a circular motion, and then leaning down and squirming back and forth, and all I could feel was my cock moving in my vagina like a shaft on a bearing.
I held her close and kept moving my hips to match her movements.
“It’s so good… so good…” she said as her pumping slowed down, making a mesmerized face. I felt a stream of water coming out, she was close to orgasm, I had a premonition.
“Quick! Quickly! Pick up the pace.”
I wrapped my hands around her ass and twisted hard, my cock churning in and out of my cunt, and all I could feel was the growing stickiness in that cavern. Suddenly, like being stung by a bee, my whole body spasmed and a torrent of fluid poured out.
“Shoot it! Shoot it! You bad boy!” She banged her hand against my chest. All I felt was a contraction of her pussy lips and then a loosening up.
She fell limply onto my chest, gasping for air, and a long line of saliva flowed from the corner of her mouth, soaking my underwear. “I’m going to die…” she said at last, letting out a long breath.
About half an hour passed before we sat up. I was completely overwhelmed by the scene. Her flirtatiousness, her fat breasts, completely overpowered me, and I truly realized that “half of a man is a woman.”
The meaning of that one sentence. What’s the point of a man’s life without a woman?
We sat there telling jokes to each other, I told Mary a few stories in a row, Mary laughed happily at my stories and pestered me to tell her some more peachy stories, I said, “It’s too late, I’ll tell you next time! Time is still long!” So we said goodbye and returned home.
Chapter III
I moved into the “fairy tale house” with Sachiko in late May. When I went inside, it was not as convenient as I thought it would be. The small attic room was well lit and overlooked the sea; the open space in front of the door faced south, which was perfect for a flowerbed; and the only drawback was that the state-run tram often passed close to my house, but it was separated by a large piece of farmland, so it wasn’t too noisy.
In these terms, the house couldn’t be better. And because the house was not suitable for ordinary people, the rent was extraordinarily cheap. Although prices were generally cheap at that time, I was satisfied with the fact that there was no deposit and the rent was only twenty dollars a month.
“Sachiko, in the future, why don’t you stop calling me ‘Mr. Matsuyama’ and call me ‘Taro’, and let’s live together like real friends.” I said to her on the day we moved.
Of course, I also informed my family that I had moved out of the house where I was living, found a house, and hired a 15-year-old girl as a maid. But I did not tell them that I was living with her “as friends” because, on the one hand, there were very few relatives visiting me in my hometown, and on the other hand, I thought that I would notify my family in the future until it was necessary to do so.
We had a busy but enjoyable time buying all kinds of furniture suitable for this new and unusual home, arranging and decorating it. I tried to inspire her, and even when I bought something trivial, I didn’t make the decision alone, but let her have her say, and used her ideas as much as possible.
There was no room in the house for a closet, a long fireplace, and other common household utensils, so there was freedom of choice, and everything could be designed and arranged according to one’s own will. I found cheap Indian calico, Sachiko’s clumsy hands to sew it into curtains, and from the Western furniture store in Chikou bought old rattan chairs, sofas, easy chairs and tables in the drawing room, and hung on the wall two or three pictures of American movies, such as Mary Pickford, and so on. On the wall were two or three pictures of American movie stars such as Mary Pickford.
Originally, I would have liked to use Western-style bedding if possible, but for one thing, buying two beds cost a lot of money, and for another, I could have had my country home send me bedding, and because of that convenience, I finally had to give up that idea.
However, since it was a servant’s bedding, the countryside sent Sachiko a prearranged cranberry-patterned quilt that was thin and stiff.
I felt a little embarrassed and said, “It’s a bit too much to use this, so I’ll give you one of my quilts in exchange.”
“Hey, come on, it’s enough for me to use this.” With that, she slammed on the covers and went to sleep alone in that six square meter room in the attic.
Although I slept next door to her – in the nine-square-meter room under the same roof – we greeted each other every morning as soon as we woke up, lying under the covers in each other’s rooms.
“Sachiko, getting up?” I asked.
“Ah, up. What time is it?” She asked.
“It’s six-thirty, I’ll make breakfast today.”
“You’ll do it? I did it yesterday, you can do it today.”
“Well, I’ll have to do it. But it’s too much trouble, let’s just eat bread.”
“All right, that’s it. You’re a slippery one.”
If we want to eat, we cook it in a casserole, and when it’s done we don’t need to serve it in a rice bowl, we just put it on the table and eat it right out of the can. If it’s too much trouble not to cook, we’ll make do with milk, bread and jam, or eat two Western-style snacks to fill the stomach. For dinner, you can eat soba noodles or noodles in soup. When you want to be appetizing, the two go to a nearby Western restaurant.
“Taro, buy me a steak today!” Sachiko said this.
After breakfast, Sachiko stayed home alone while I went to work. All morning she fiddled with the flowers in the flower beds, then in the afternoon she put a lock on the empty house and went to study English and music.
I had heard that English should be learned at first with Westerners, so I sent her every other day to the home of old Miss Harrison, an American in Meguro, to learn to converse and read, and I often reviewed her at home to make up for any deficiencies.
I really didn’t know what to do about music, so when I heard that a woman who had graduated from the Ueno Music School two or three years earlier was teaching piano and voice at her home, I asked Sachiko to take an hour’s music lesson every day at Iwako on Shiba Street.
Sachiko wore a cotton and silk dress, wool dress pants, and a pair of black socks on her feet, plus tiny, delicate slippers.
She completely turned into a schoolgirl, rejoicing and exuberant over the fact that she had finally gotten her money’s worth as expected. Sometimes when I met her on my way home, I could not imagine in any way that she was a girl who had grown up in Chiharamachi and had worked as a waitress in a café. Since then, too, she had never worn her hair in a Japanese bun, but wore it with ribbons and braided up underneath to rest on her shoulders.
As I said earlier, “I adopted her like a little bird”. After she was adopted by me, her face slowly became rosy, her character gradually changed, and she really became a happy and lively bird, the empty and spacious studio was a big birdcage for her.
May is nearly over and it’s early summer sunny weather.
The flowers and plants in the flower beds were also becoming more and more colorful by the day. When we returned home separately in the evening, the sunlight streaming in through the Indian floral cloth was still as bright as day, illuminating the entire room surrounded by snow-white walls.
Sachiko, dressed in a facecloth singlet and barefoot in slippers, jumped on the floor and sang songs she had learned. Sometimes she played blind or hide-and-seek with me, running around the studio, jumping over the tables, getting under the sofa, or turning the chairs over. As if that were not enough, one had to run up the stairs and scurry back and forth like a mouse hurrying up and down that pedestal-like attic corridor. Once I was the horse and crawled all over the house with her on my back.
“Heave, heave! Giddyup, giddyup!” Sachiko shouted and used the hand towel as a leash for me to bite.
The following incident probably happened while playing this game as well. Sachiko was going up and down the stairs, and because she was getting so carried away with the game, she finally stepped on the ground and rolled down from the top, and she burst into convulsive tears.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Where did you bruise it, show me.” Saying that, I picked her up. Despite that, she was still sobbing hard and rolled up her sleeve to show me. She probably hit a nail or something when she fell and broke the skin on her right elbow, oozing blood.
“Don’t be a crybaby about that little thing! Well, come over here and get your rubber bandage on.”
Just as the rubber bandage was being applied and the hand towel pulled off to bandage her, Sachiko was still teary-eyed and sniffling and crying loudly, almost like a childish child. The bad thing was, the wound went septic after that, and after five or six days it didn’t heal, and there wasn’t a single time she didn’t cry every day when I changed her bandage.
At that time, I wasn’t quite sure whether I had fallen in love with Sachiko or not. Well, I might have fallen in love with her, but I was more than happy to educate her to be an outstanding woman, and as long as I could do that, I seemed to be satisfied.
That summer, the company was on vacation for two weeks, and as is the custom every year, I had to go home to visit my family, so I asked Sachiko to return to her home in Asakusa for a while, locking the door of the house in Omori.
When I returned to the country, I realized how monotonous and lonely those two weeks had been for me, and how unbearable they had been. It was then that I began to realize that the absence of the boy had made me so bored, and that this might be the beginning of a love affair. So I went back to Tokyo early after putting up with my mother for a while. It was already after 10:00 p.m., but I immediately hailed a cab from Ueno and rushed to Sachiko’s house.
“Sachiko, I’m back. The car is waiting around the corner, so head back to Omori right away.”
“Good, then go at once.” After that, she told me to wait outside the lattice door, and not long afterward came out with a small bundle.
It was a muggy, hot evening, but Sachiko was wearing a fluffy, white, thin woolen singlet with a lavender grapevine pattern, and a beautiful wide, light pink ribbon tied around her head. The thin wool had been bought for her a few days before for the Bon Festival, and she had had it made and put on while she was at home.
“Sachiko, what do you do every day?” I said as the car drove towards the lively neighborhood and I sat side-by-side with her, bringing my face slightly towards her.
“Oh, go to the movies every day.”
“Not feeling lonely, then?”
“Well, I don’t feel lonely or anything…” she said, considering for a moment, “but you came back earlier than I expected.”
“It’s no fun staying in the country, so I came back early. It’s still good to be in Tokyo.” Saying that, I couldn’t help but sigh, and with an unspeakable nostalgia, I looked out the window at the night view of the city – the twinkling lights.
“But it’s nice to be in the country in the summer.”
“The countryside isn’t all the same. My house is in the remote countryside, and the neighborhood has the usual scenery, and there are no places of interest. From broad daylight, flies and mosquitoes buzz around and the heat is simply unbearable.”
“Ah, living in a place like this?”
“That’s the kind of place.”
“I… want to go to the beach.” Sachiko suddenly said, the tone as cute as a pouting child.
“Yeah, I’ll take you somewhere cool in a couple days. Would Kamakura or Hakone be better?”
“Going to a spa is better than going to the beach, I really want to go to the beach.”
Who would think she was the same Sachiko as before if they were just listening to the innocent words, yet after not seeing her for only ten days or so, her body seemed to have grown so much all of a sudden, causing me to sneak a few more glances at the plump shoulders and breasts that rose and fell under that thin woolen singlet as she breathed.
“This dress fits quite well, who made it?” I asked after a while.
“Mom made it for me.”
“What did the family think? Didn’t say I could pick out fabrics?”
“Well, said so. Said it was a good pick, just a little too foreign for the pattern.”
“Is that what your mother said?”
“Yes, my family doesn’t understand anything.” Saying that, her eyes gazed into the distance: “Everyone says I’m like a different person.”
“How’s it getting?”
“It says it’s becoming foreignized.”
“That’s true, even I have that opinion.”
“Yeah? They said they’d let me wear my Japanese hair in a bun once, and I didn’t mean to, so I didn’t.”
“So, where did this ribbon come from?”
“This one? I went to the store and bought it myself. How’s that?” She said. The wind blew her dry, lusterless hair. She turned her head to show me the light pink ribbon fluttering around her head.
“Ah, you’re perfect for this, so much better than wearing a Japanese style bun.”
“Ha!” She shrugged her garlicky nose and laughed triumphantly. To put it mildly, this nose-shrugging arrogant grin had become her bugbear, yet to me, it showed off her quick wit.
Sachiko’s body resembles Mary’s. I want to have sex with her. I wonder how she is in bed. Was she as mesmerizing as Mary. Intuitively, her breasts must be very big and white, and her pussy lips must be very fat and tender. Thinking about all this, my cock started to buck, my mind visualized the scene of making love with Mary, and my mouth kept calling out Mary’s name.
“Mary, come on! Let’s make love.” I mumbled under my breath and it didn’t take long for me to leak.
Then fatigue struck me and I fell asleep on the couch. I dreamed that I was making love to Mary, and suddenly her labia opened up like a flower, a petunia that grows next to my house, which opened up one by one from her vagina. I looked at her in awe: “Mary, can you do magic?”
She laughed, slutty laugh. I was stunned and fixed my eyes on the flower-changing vagina, which suddenly changed into a dagger and poked straight at my penis, and suddenly blood flowed all over me.
With this shock, I woke up and took a look at my penis, which was firm and looking straight at the ceiling wrench, like a spitting pen, and oozing out a lot of milky white liquid. I knew that this was a reflection of my subconscious desire to have sex, I want to have sex, I have to have sex, otherwise I will be driven crazy.
chap
Sachiko was clamoring for me to take her to Kamakura, so we headed out in early August with the intention of spending two or three days away.
“Why only stay two or three days? Since you’re going on a trip, how uninteresting it would be if you didn’t have fun for ten days and a week.”
She said on her way out the door, looking a little dissatisfied.
I wanted to explain to her that I had left home on the pretext that I was busy at work, and that if this leaked out, it would not be easy to explain in front of my mother. But then I considered that this might hurt her face, so I consoled: “Well, this year, just play two or three days to make do, and then next year, you will take you to a special place to have fun, how do you think?”
“But if it’s only for two or three days…”
“That being said, if you want to swim, wouldn’t it be nice to go to the beach in Omori when we get back?”
“How can you swim in a sea that dirty?”
“Don’t be such a nuisance, you’re a good boy, it’s settled. However, I’m going to buy you a dress as compensation. Ah, come to think of it, didn’t you say you like dresses? Let’s make you a set of dresses.”
She was tempted by the “dress” and finally agreed to my suggestion.
In Kamakura, we stayed at a modest seaside ryokan called Kimbolou. There was a little incident about staying at this hotel that is still funny to think about.
At that time, I still had most of my bonus for the first half of the year in my pocket, so I didn’t need to spend a lot of money as I was only going out for two or three days. Moreover, it was the first time I traveled with her, and I was so ecstatic that I initially thought: “Don’t be too cheap, and stay in a first-class hotel, so that this trip will leave a good impression on you”.
But on that day, when I stepped into the second-class compartment of the Yokosuka-bound train, I felt a sense of trepidation. There were many beautiful wives and ladies going to Douzi or Kamakura on this train. When I joined them, I didn’t care about myself, but Sachiko’s outfit was too shabby.
Since it was summer, those ladies certainly didn’t dress up in a rich and glamorous way, but when I compared her to Sachiko, I could realize that there was a world of difference between the temperament of those who lived in the upper class and those who didn’t belong to that class. Although Sachiko was a different person than she was at the café, her humble background and lack of education could not be changed in any way, I thought.
She herself, however, must have realized this even more deeply; she usually looked very elegant in her thin, grape-patterned monokini, but at this time she looked so shabby. There were women around who wore only a single garment, but they either wore glittering rings on their hands or carried high class luxury items to show their wealth. However, Sachiko’s hands had nothing to boast about other than her smooth skin.
To this day, I still remember Sachiko’s embarrassment when she hid her parasol behind her sleeve. It’s no wonder that even though the umbrella was new, anyone would have thought it was a cheap item worth only seven or eight dollars.
So, even though I thought about going out of my way to stay at the Seaside Hotel, when I walked up to the front of the hotel, I was first overwhelmed by the imposing front door. After walking back and forth on the streets of Nagaya two or three times, I ended up going to the local second- or third-rate Kimbo House.
The hostel was full of young students, too noisy to stay there and be quiet, so we spent every day at the beach. The light-hearted Sachiko was so elated at the mere sight of the sea that she forgot all about the depressing events on the train.
“I’m going to learn to swim this summer anyway.” She held my arm and flopped around in the shallow water.
I use both hands to hold her body, let her crouch on the surface of the water; or let her grasp the stake in the water, I grasp her legs, teach her to play tired, we practice surfing, or leisurely lying on the beach to throw sand to play. In the evening to rent a boat to the deep sea , this time she always in the swimsuit over a large towel, sometimes sitting in the stern, sometimes resting on the side of the boat to look up at the clear sky, without fear of singing her hand Napoleon boat song: “Santa Lucia”. Lucia”.
“dolceNapoli, sowlbeato…”
She sang in Italian, that rather nice soprano echoing off the calm evening sea.
I was out of my mind she was listening to her song as I gently swung my oar.
“A little further, a little further.” She was going to sail the boat endlessly over the sea and ride the waves.
Night fell quietly, the stars in the sky twinkling and winking at our boat, surrounded by a dim and hazy, only to feel her body wrapped in a whitened towel, the outline has become blurred, but her joyful song does not stop for a moment. She sang over and over again “Santa. Lucretia”, then “The Wanderer’s Song” and a verse from “The Lost Lady”, and she kept on singing various songs to the slow rhythm of the boat.
Probably anyone would have had this experience in their youth, but for me it was indeed a first. I was an electrical technician, but at that time I remembered a novel I had once read – “The Grass Pillow” by Natsume Soseki. Yes, I remember one of the lines in the book was “Venice is sinking, Venice is sinking”.
Sachiko and I were sitting on the bumpy boat, looking through the evening mist at the lights of the land from the sea, when that sentence inexplicably appeared in my mind. I was so excited that I burst into tears, like a drunk, and a hope arose in my heart: to stay with Yuko like this, and let the boat take us to a distant world without end. Even a rough man like me could experience this kind of fun, and from this point of view alone, those three days in Kamakura had not been in vain.
No, that’s not all. To be honest, there was a more important discovery I made during those three days; while I had lived with Sachiko before, what kind of body she had, and to put it bluntly, what kind of naked flesh she had but I had not had the chance to see it, this time I learned all about it.
When she appeared in front of me the night before her first visit to the Yubihon Beach wearing a dark green swimsuit and a swimming cap specially bought from Ginza, to be honest, how happy I was to see her well-proportioned and beautifully shaped limbs! Yes, so happy, because I used to presume the lines of Sachiko’s body from the fact that she was wearing form-fitting clothes, and it was actually just as I had imagined.
“Sachiko, my Mary Pickford, what a beautifully proportioned body you have. What a beautifully proportioned body you have, my Marie-Piqueforto. How soft are your arms, and how beautiful are your boyishly straight and long legs!” I couldn’t help but exclaim in my mind, thinking of all the girls in bathing suits that I often see in the movies.
No matter who it is, probably no one will mean to write a big book about his wife’s body in detail! Later on, Sachiko became my wife, and I talked about these things about her almost boastfully, and it was never a pleasant thing for me to share it with the public. However, I always felt that it would be inconvenient to expand the story if I didn’t talk about it, and that everything I wrote would be meaningless if I avoided such things, so I must write down here what Sachiko’s appearance was like when she stayed at the Kamakura seaside in August when she was fifteen years old.
Sachiko at the time was probably an inch or so shorter standing next to me. –For the record, although I was as strong as an ox, I was only about 5 feet tall, which made me small for a man. However, Sachiko’s physique has a distinctive feature: her body is short but her legs are long, so when you look at her from a distance, you feel that she is much taller than she actually is. Moreover, her body was in a very obvious S-shape, her waist was thin and her arms were full, so she seemed to have a full womanly flavor.
At that time, we had seen the movie “Daughter of the Sea” about mermaids starring that great swimmer, Ms. Kellerman, so I said to Sachiko, “Sachiko, show me Kellerman’s pose.”
She stood on the beach and threw her arms in the air in a “diving” position. At this time, she put her legs together, without a gap between them, from the waist down to the ankles in a thin triangle.
Sachiko seemed to be very proud of this, and she said, “How’s that? Mr. Taro, my legs are straight, aren’t they?” She took two steps and looked at her legs, then stood still and looked at them again, stretching her legs out onto the sand and looking at them, admiring this position with great pleasure.
Another feature of Sachiko’s body shape was the line from her neck to her shoulders, and I often had the opportunity to touch her shoulders; for Sachiko always came up to me when she was putting on her swimsuit and said, “Taro-san, please button this up for me.” Let me button up her shoulders.
People like Sachiko with long shoulders and long necks usually look skinny if they take off their clothes, but she is just the opposite, her beautiful shoulders are extraordinarily thick and plump, and from the look of her chest, she seems to have a lot of lung capacity. When she buttoned up and took a deep breath or waved her arms, the muscles on her back would bulge like undulating waves, and the swimsuit on her body stretched to the maximum extent of her full, round shoulders, looking like it was about to split open.
In a word, I felt that her shoulders were indeed full of strength, full of the vigor of “youth” and “beauty”. I secretly compared Sachiko with many other young girls around me, and there was no one else like her who had both full shoulders and an elegant neck.
“Sachiko, be a little quiet. If you move any more, you won’t be able to fasten it.” I often say this, grabbing the end of the swimsuit and barely pressing her shoulders into it as if I were stuffing a large object into a bag.
With a physique like that, it should be taken for granted that she is mobile and flirty. In fact, she was very agile in everything she did with her hands and feet. Swimming was something she learned in Kamakura for three days at first, then went to the waterfront in Omori every day and practiced hard, and it took her a summer to finally learn. She also learned various skills such as boat and speedboat.
After playing all day, I came back in the evening with a watery swimsuit. “Ah, I’m exhausted.” and “Ah, I’m starving!” I fell into a chair. Sometimes it is too much trouble to cook, on the way home to go to a Western restaurant, the two people like a race to eat a full meal. She likes steak, ate plate after plate, easily three plates quickly finished.
There are too many pleasant memories of that summer to write about, so I’ll stop here. But there is one last thing that I can’t leave out, and that is that since then I have developed a habit of sitting her in a hot tub and rubbing her hands and feet and back with a sponge.
At first, because Sachiko gets sleepy easily and found it too hard to go to the bath, she took a shower in the kitchen and washed off the seawater on her body with cool water. I said to her, “Hey, Sachiko, it’s not good to go to sleep like this, it’s not good to be sticky, go to this basin and I’ll wash you.”
Hearing this, she honestly did as I said and let me bathe her. After gradually forming the habit, the shower was uninterrupted even in the cool fall, and finally I installed a Western-style bathtub in a corner of the studio, laid out a bath mat, surrounded it with a screen, and bathed her there in the winter as well.
(unfinished business, to be continued)