ALL I EVER WANTED 07 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 02: ALL I EVER WANTED BY MEGUMI KATO AND SAMANTHA WEST CHAPTER VII Home Again I knew, from the moment Mr Otani mentioned it, what I was going to do about finding a new apartment in Tokyo. There was a small block not far from the Marucho studios in Shibuya with at least one empty unit, which I had looked round recently when pretending to myself that I might one day earn enough to pay for it. The block was a _manshon_, which in Japanese has nothing to do with the kind of house we had been occupying in San Francisco, but just means a condominium with pretensions. It stood in a quiet street with a Dominican monastery at one end - where my idol Miss Mie Takahashi had married Mr Alan Buller only a few months ago. At the other end was the Embassy of a third-world country, or "not-yet-developed country", as we politely call those of our neighbours who could have done what Japan has done since 1945 but didn't, and now prefer to live on our charity. The flight from the West Coast to Tokyo is long and tedious. My Louisiana friend had taken a while to understand that when I begged him to stop, I meant him to do no such thing; but soon enough he was caning and whipping me endlessly, delectably, with all his strength, stimulated I hope by my pitiful screams and cries for mercy. There had of course been pauses while I satisfied his growing lust, after which he returned to work with renewed enthusiasm. His delightful treatment of my arse had been wonderful at the time, but now made me squirm hotly on the airline seat. It was quite a nice feeling but made sleep impossible. With Sammy dozing beside me I had plenty of time to make plans. We all arrived at Narita Airport badly jet-lagged, trying to work out how we had lost a day in our lives and whether it mattered, and with a three-hour journey ahead of us into the city. We also had several days off before we were required again in the studio. Fortunately Sammy loved the apartment too. We each had a bedroom to ourselves: the double-beds we both insisted on took up most of the space in each room, but what else is a bedroom for? There was a sitting-dining room, large by Tokyo standards, with a tiny balcony, a nice kitchen, a spotless Western-style bathroom and lavatory, and a little extra room as a kind of study. Negotiation with the landlord was easy: this was 1993 and the efforts of the Bank of Japan and Ministry of Finance to let the air out of the "bubble economy" of the late 80s before it got too enormous and burst had badly frightened those who had speculated in property. There were none of the usual hesitations about letting an apartment to two single girls, one of them a _gaijin_ with, no doubt, filthy Western habits. We agreed to hire the attractive furniture the letting company had already put there or could supply from stock. We reached important agreements between ourselves on who would be responsible for buying what and on how we would let each other know if we unexpectedly decided to sleep in a strange bed or to bring a lover home for the night. Mr Otani's contribution to our joint rent was so generous that I could afford to sacrifice the notice-period on my previous pokey apartment. It took very little time to assemble my few belongings and to collect Sammy and her suitcases from her temporary hotel. We paid the advance, the returnable (in theory) deposit and the non-returnable (and illegal) key-money, and moved in. I wanted to get to bed early after all the rush, and said good-night to Sammy soon after we had returned to our new home from a celebratory meal at one of the many restaurants in the Dogenzaka, Shibuya's most traditional entertainment street. But I had reckoned without my friend's excitement at setting up home in a new country - and her unresolved jet-lag. I was just beginning to doze when the door of my bedroom opened quietly and, a few moments later, a slim, naked body slipped into my bed and cuddled up against me. I also sleep naked - even when I'm expecting to be alone - so the contact was nice for both of us. "You don't mind, do you, Megumi?" said a frightened little voice; "I couldn't sleep, and I was lonely." "Of course not," I said, holding her close, "I was lonely too." She lay with her back to me, our bodies fitting neatly together as my hands, instinctively and without any thought of what it might lead to, found her tits and cunt. My professional actress's instincts told me that we must look a charming sight, if only there were anyone to see. Possible scenarios for videos in which we could star together had already begun to race through my over-stimulated imagination. _Kin to Zoge_, _Gold and Ivory_, I suddenly thought, would be a lovely title, and theme. "Megumi, tell me," she suddenly asked, "did you enjoy what that man did to you our last night in San Francisco?" "So you knew what we were up to, did you?" "Oh yes! We all knew. Even though he closed the door. You were screaming like anything. Some of us went and peeked through the key-hole, but I didn't. I thought that was tacky, when you wanted to be private." "Well, thank you. But yes, I loved it." "Why?" "What do you mean, why?" "Well, I can't imagine getting pleasure from being hurt so badly." "You can't imagine enjoying having your arse fucked," I pointed out, "and yet you know very well it will happen to you one day soon, and that you'll love it, and wonder why you wasted so much time and waited so long." One of the most delicious arses I had ever known wriggled shyly against my crotch. "Well, yes, but that's natural." "Natural?" "Every girl has three holes to be fucked in, and surely it's natural to want to make the most of them all. It's just a matter of time, and the right man." "So?" "But I can't see myself enjoying being whipped the way you do." I remembered her innocent pleasure in the tightly-knotted gold cords which had decorated her upper body at the wrap party, but decided it was too soon to ask her to consider what it might mean. "I think," I said carefully, "it depends who does it. Your father and I, for instance ..." "Yes, he told me you have this wonderful relationship. He's very fond of you, you know. And I'm very happy for him." She looked back over her shoulder, and contrived to kiss me without losing our comfortable position. "And of course I know how you feel about him. But even with him, what makes you like it so much?" "It's chance, really. If you start the right way, you never lose it." "You mean, you started with being whipped?" "Well, sort of." "Tell me." So I told her the story of my early sex life, which I will not repeat here because I have already explained it as best I can in Chapter III, and if you skipped it then perhaps you'd be so kind as to go back and read it properly there. And I told her how her father had insisted on my being employed by Marucho as an actress, and made love to me, and taken my second virginity, all on the same day, which happened to be my eighteenth birthday, and how he was the only man I had ever met who knew _exactly_ what my sexual needs were - _all_ of them - and how I had been in love with him ever since. And then I said, "So now it's your turn. Tell me the story of your sex life." "Oh, you don't want to know about that. It wouldn't interest you." "Yes, it would." I inserted the first joint of my middle finger into her warm, wet pussy, tickling the base of her clitoris from inside. Then I took it out again. "Oh, Megumi, you are so clever! That was lovely! Do it again." "Only when you start telling me." She giggled, and wriggled, deliciously. "Well ..." "Tell." [Next in Part 08: Chapter VIII: Sammy's Story] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams