ALL I EVER WANTED 18 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 02: ALL I EVER WANTED BY MEGUMI KATO AND SAMANTHA WEST CHAPTER XVIII Conversations I could hear Sammy carolling happily to herself as she came along the short corridor linking her bedroom with mine. As usual, she entered without knocking: we had no secrets from each other. "Megumi, do you think Bob would like to watch us do our morning exercises?" she asked without preliminary. That is one of the things I love about darling Sammy: when she gets a sexy idea in her pretty head, she comes straight out with it, never mind the circumstances or who else might be listening. In fact this idea was a good one: as I have explained, we had been obliged to give up our usual routine in order to speed up my recovery from the damage inflicted on me in the dungeon scene a week ago, and I had been missing it. We had brought Bob home with us from the Paradise Club but Sammy had elected to sleep alone, wanting to relive in her dreams her experiences and her longed-for introduction to the joys of arse-fucking. Bob and I were only partly awake: my hand was idly stroking his morning erection and I had not yet begun to think what to do with it. "You'd enjoy that wouldn't you, Bob?" I asked sleepily. "Sammy and I like to start the day with a little fun." "Sure." I came fully awake, let go of his cock and scrambled out of bed. I fished the cat-o'-nine-tails from among the other equipment for sexual pleasure I kept in the drawer of my bedside table. Sammy flung open the curtains and, with a cry of "Me first! Please!" took up her favourite submissive posture, looking out over Shibuya as she braced herself for the first scratch of the cat's claws. Sammy's unrestrained joy in sexual stimulation makes whipping her a delight, and I must have given her thirty or forty strokes, urged on by her uninhibited cries of "Oh, thank you Megumi! That's lovely! Oh, harder, please harder!" At last she twisted away from me, laughing and claiming her turn. She was always too volatile and excited to use a whip with the steady, endless rhythm which leads to a real orgasm, but soon I too was gasping with pleasure. At last we fell onto the bed together, petting and kissing each other. We were so delighted with each other that we had almost forgotten about Bob, until he interrupted our lesbian pleasures and begged to be allowed to join in. "Whipping first!" cried Sammy, jumping off the bed. "That's not fair!" protested Bob, grabbing at me. I wriggled away from him. "No, no - you're here to work!" I joined Sammy at the window, and without a word we fell into each other's arms, taking up the position in which we had so joyfully received our joint whipping in the final stage of our scene together in Mr Anson's torture-chamber. Bob picked up my little cat and swished it from side to side experimentally. "Haven't you got anything heavier than this?" "In the drawer!" I said eagerly. As we stood together waiting for him to make his choice, I whispered to Sammy, "How's your bottom feel today?" "_Marvellous_!" she replied. "It's tickling me so nicely all the ... you know, all the way he put it in." "Wouldn't you like him to do it again and scratch the itch for you?" I asked teasingly. "I'm sure he would if you asked him nicely." "Oh, I wouldn't want him to take it away! I want it to go on tickling me like that for ever - it's wonderfully exciting!" "It will never leave you now," I said; "now you've got a lovely tickle _there_, it will never give you any peace, however often ..." I was about to explain to her that she could have it both ways - that having it all ways at once was one of the privileges of being a sexually enlightened girl - but suddenly I had other things to think about. The nine lashes of my biggest cat sizzled delightfully round our bodies while we happily pressed breasts, clits and thighs against each other. We had nearly climaxed together when Bob, stimulated beyond endurance, dropped the whip and dragged us both back to the bed to share his erection. His virile body was just a tool with which to satisfy our insatiable lusts: would he mind if he knew that was how we regarded him, I wondered between orgasms, or would he be flattered? We had a late breakfast on our little balcony, the winter sun just warm enough to allow our customary nudity. "We decided early on not to bother with clothes when we're here together," I explained. "_Or_ when we're here with other people," added Sammy with a provocative wriggle. "It's so much nicer. Don't you think Megumi looks lovely with nothing on?" "You both do, and you know it," said Bob. "Does it ever occur to you that people might be watching you out here?" "Oh, _yes_!" said Sammy, sprawling provocatively in her chair. "I'm sure they do, and it's so exciting, it makes it all the more fun." "After all, we both enjoy putting on a show," I said; then added naughtily, "and it didn't seem to bother you on _your_ balcony not so long ago." Bob just grinned. Sammy looked quickly from one to the other, then begged us to explain. "Oh, we were just having breakfast together," I said. "Nothing special. I was naked, of course, and this barbarian here suddenly took it into his head to cover me in honey."[8] "Gosh, I wish I'd been there too!" said Sammy. "What happened?" "Well, we had great fun together, and then I made him lick me clean." "All over?" "All over. Inside and out." Sammy looked speculatively at Bob. He easily read her thoughts. "No, Sammy," he said, "can't afford to do things like that any more. Makes me put on weight." He slapped his naked belly, which was in fact getting a bit fleshier than I remembered it. "Anyway," he added, "I think you like the taste of something else better." "Oh, yes!" said Sammy. She scrambled into a cross-legged position on her chair. "I just love it! But I was saying to Megumi the other day, it's funny to think there was a time when I wasn't sure I liked the taste of cum. Now I can never get enough of it. Do you think that's perverted?" she suddenly demanded, leaning across and gazing at him severely. "Course not!" said Bob. "You don't think it's perverted of _me_ to want to come in girls' mouths, do you?" "No," said Sammy, "but it's just as well for you I don't!" "Well, then ..." "But it's not natural, even though I love it so," Sammy went on. "And that's what I'm asking: is it perverted to love something unnatural? Because that's not what sex is really _for_, is it?" Bob suddenly sat up and faced her, elbows on the little table. I quickly caught a cup which nearly fell as the table rocked. This was getting serious - and interesting. "Who says what sex is for?" he asked indignantly. "The priests -" of course he must have meant Catholic Christian priests, ours aren't so stupid "- say it's only for having children. Of course they've no idea what they're talking about, _they_ only fuck choirboys anyway, and if we believed what they say you could end up getting fucked just a few times in your entire life - you know what I mean, just once per child. Then a lot of serious people say it's for keeping marriages and relationships together. I guess the men who read the magazines I write for would say it's just for fun." I began to guess this lecture was part of an article he had written recently, or was working on. "What do _you_ think sex is for, then, Bob?" I asked, getting impatient with his slow build-up. "Me? I say it's for anything you want to use it for. It's yours. Your property. You do what you like with it, and take the consequences. Look at this," he went on, holding up his hand and turning it to and fro in front of our faces. "What's it _for_? To start with, our ancestors used it for hanging from the trees, and I can do that too if I want. But we don't live in the trees anymore, and I'm free to do what I like with it. If I have my keyboard, I can write an article with it. If I have a gun, I can kill someone with it. I can use it to stroke you gently till you reach orgasm, or instead of being gentle I can be cruel and whip you hard till you - well, till you reach orgasm again. If I knew how, I could play the piano with it. Sex is the same. When it began it was for making babies, but we hardly need that anymore and now it's for anything you like." "So what about my wanting men to come in my mouth even more than in my cunt?" asked Sammy, who still wanted to know. "You like it?" "You know I adore it." "Then that's what sex is for, for you. One of the things." "But you said I had to take the consequences. Are there any?" "I doubt it. Cum is a high-protein food: it's probably very good for you. If men come over your face and tits, rub it in well - it's full of Vitamin E and better for your skin than any beauty-cream. You can't get pregnant through your mouth, and I read where the experts said there's far less chance of getting sexual diseases from swallowing cum than from being fucked in your pussy. Even aids." "Really?" I said, interested. "I'd never heard that." "No, the people who control what we read and hear about sex don't want you to. They're afraid of an epidemic of oral sex, with everyone enjoying themselves too much with nothing to be afraid of." He began to tell her how he had tried to cover this story in serious magazines and been rejected by his editors, but Sammy had stopped listening. She relaxed in her chair and shut her eyes, a dreamy look coming over her face. I knew she had been suddenly overwhelmed by a vision of a world in which men queued endlessly to fuck her face, some filling her mouth and stomach with tasty nutritious cum, others coating her skin with gobbets of rich cream ... I could see from the way her hands were twitching that in her daydream she was frigging them, milking great buckets from them, drinking the stuff, bathing in it. Bob had stopped talking. In the silence I too began to dream, shutting my eyes and enjoying the morning sunlight. Of course my supreme pleasure is different from Sammy's, and in my fantasy a long, slim lash appeared from nowhere, clinging for a moment to my body and then vanishing, leaving no sign but the ecstasy of my flesh. I began to stroke myself, one hand creeping up to squeeze and pinch my nipples. Again the lash kissed me, sending a thread of white-hot agony spiralling round my hips. I began to sketch in the man at the other end of the whip: strong, loving, erect. My pussy was getting wet. Was I tied, or free? No, tied would be nice. I was tied, in the open, between two trees, so tautly I could hardly bear it, my body quivering with anticipation ... The phone rang inside the apartment. I opened my eyes, and reluctantly stored my fantasy away for future use. Bob was standing beside Sammy now, careful not to touch her. For a moment I looked longingly at his beautiful erection, but it was clearly destined for Sammy's mouth. As I went back into the living-room to pick up the phone, I saw Bob kneel beside her, take one of her pretty feet in his hands and begin to kiss her little gold-painted toes. It was Matsumoto-san from the studio. "I have some bad news for you," she said, with as little preamble as is possible for a Japanese woman on the telephone. "Mr Nagao was taken ill last night. We think he had a sudden heart attack. He has been taken to the Keio University Hospital. The doctors say he will live, but of course he will take a long time to recover fully - if he ever does." "But that's terrible!" I said, recalling the grey-haired, soft-spoken Chairman of the company who had always been so kind to me. "Sammy!" I called over to the balcony, "Come over here! Matsumoto-san says Mr Nagao has been taken ill. He's in hospital." She pulled away from Bob and rushed over to join me; I tilted the receiver so she could hear Matsumoto-san's voice. "Do they know how it happened?" I said into the mouthpiece. "Well," said Matsumoto-san, a bit of the old sexy chuckle returning to her voice, "they did say I wasn't to tell you, as you might be upset, but ... well, can you beat it, the old goat was watching the rough-cut of your video, and it seems to have excited him so much that ... you know ..." "Oh, but what an awful thing to happen!" "Don't worry, dearie, if it was going to happen it was going to happen, and it was the way he would have wanted it. Well, almost. If I know him he'd have preferred to Do It For Real like we always say in this company - a real _fukujoshi_," she added, using the polite Japanese expression, literally "death on the stomach", for dying while fucking. "Not that he's dead, of course," she added hastily. "Can I go and visit him? Or would that excite him too much?" I added innocently. Matsumoto-san's laugh showed she was back on form again. "Well, dearie, if you put some clothes on for once, I guess he might just survive the effect you have on him," she said irreverently. I blushed, at my own tactlessness, and because I had an irrational, uneasy feeling that she had somehow divined my nudity. "What do you think I should do?" "If I were you I'd just stay where you are. You're not required for any shooting just now, are you?" "No." "I expect Mr Niijima will be in touch soon enough." She hung up. The phone rang again almost at once, and indeed it was Mr Niijima. "Kato-kun, you have heard the news about the Chairman?" he asked. His voice was dry but there was a hint of excitement and satisfaction at the way the crisis gave him the chance of demonstrating how indispensable he was. I said I had, and waited respectfully for his instructions. "I have to tell you that Mr Otani has rung from California. He seems to have heard the news remarkably swiftly." Mr Niijima sniffed. "He requested me to inform you, and his daughter Miss West, that he will be on the first available plane from Los Angeles. He should therefore be arriving at Narita early tomorrow morning. I shall inform you of the exact time when I have it." "Thank you. Meanwhile, what should I and Samantha do?" "All of us have a responsibility to continue carrying out our duties to the company with all our strength and ability," said Mr Niijima formally, and rang off. I am an actress, not a businesswoman, so I shall not attempt to describe the finance package which was put together over the next few days to safeguard the company's future. Mr Otani arrived, and we had a rushed but joyful reunion. Mr Niijima had booked him into his usual suite in one of the main Tokyo hotels, but he found he was spending so much time at the studio in Shibuya that he gave that up and, to my great happiness, moved in with Sammy and me so as to be closer. Sammy seemed to find it entirely natural that her father should share my bed. He was too busy, alas, to choreograph one of our elaborate sexual work-outs, but our sex together was deeply satisfying and I think helped to relieve the stress he was under. Sammy joined us in bed occasionally for a chat and to catch up on the latest news from the studio. While I do not think there was ever anything incestuous in Mr Otani's feelings for his daughter - and if there was, it was displaced onto me, I suppose - he enjoyed watching the two of us together. Shyly at first, and then with greater confidence, we returned to our habit of doing without clothes in the apartment, and displayed for him our pretty lesbian love-making, hoping that he would find it stimulating enough to see the possibilities of constructing future videos around our relationship. In the middle of all this upheaval, I walked into the costume department late one afternoon to find Emi there. She had come to return her pretty party dress, and no doubt to borrow others. She was drinking one of Matsumoto-san's endless cups of green tea and had obviously been giving her an account of her sexual activities since we had last met. She stood up and bowed politely as soon as she saw me. "Good afternoon, Kato-san! I am afraid I am being a nuisance ..." "Not at all, Emi," I said, although she was rather, "nice to see you. Did you have a good time at your party—when was it, Saturday before last?" "Oh, _yes_!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "I was just telling Matsumoto-san. It was fantastic! I never knew it was possible to have such fun - it was even better than the time before ... you remember, when you told me what to do." "I'm so glad," I said, hoping to be spared a detailed account of every fuck. "How long did it take you to get out of your dress?" "Oh, not long!" said Emi airily. Then her mood changed suddenly. She stopped showing off and looked troubled. "It felt very different from last time. You remember, Kato-san, you were helping me then. I could tell myself I was doing it just for you, and for those two men who were watching of course, and it seemed so natural - and nice. But this time I was on my own." "Did that make you feel shy?" I asked. "Well ... it's so difficult to explain. I felt at first I didn't want to do it - it was naughty, my mother would be upset if she knew, it would be very awkward. But there was a voice deep inside me telling me I _did_ want to do it - wanted to very, very much. It was like your voice, Kato-san, the other time, when you were murmuring in my ear, telling me 'Take it off. Be completely nude. You know you want to.' So at last I decided the voice that sounded like your voice must be right. So I took my dress off, and it felt so wonderful that then I _knew_ it was right - the voice, I mean. Something that felt as wonderful as that couldn't possibly be wrong. At that moment I never wanted to wear clothes again, ever! But then I saw the men were just staring at me without moving, and for a moment I thought perhaps I'd disappointed them, that they didn't find me sexy enough. So I began to stroke myself - you know, sending messages like you told me, saying 'I want to be touched'. And then - oh, then they took me ..." Emi's eyes were closed as she relived the joy of it all. Then she had another sudden change of mood. "Why do you think I felt that?" she asked. "You know, that I didn't want to and yet I did?" "Most of us feel like that at first," I said. "But you've been lucky. You listened to the inner voice that was telling you the truth about yourself, and there's no going back for you now. Some girls are too frightened to listen, or there's no voice for them to hear, and they never know what you now know." "But where does the voice come from?" "Who can tell? From the Gods, perhaps?" Emi looked at me oddly, wondering if I was joking about something outside her experience. "The other night I remembered something," she said suddenly. "In bed. Something that happened years ago. With my brother. He's years older than me, and I don't see him much now - he goes to a university in Nagoya." "Did he ... do anything to you?" I asked cautiously. This was getting rather complicated. "No, not like that ... it was just, you know, something I felt ... I was taking my bath before dinner - of course I never used the hot water normally till he'd finished but he wasn't back from school and my mother told me to go ahead. And while I was in the bath he came home. I didn't realise till I heard the rattle of the door to the undressing room. Of course he saw my clothes there and called out, 'Are you in there? Hurry up! Get out!'" "What did you do?" "Well, of course I started apologising and scrambling out of the tub the moment I heard him, and then the door to the bathroom slid open and he was looking at me standing there naked." "And did he ...?" "I don't think he was interested, you know, _that_ way. I wasn't developed then anyway, and had only just started having my periods. But I felt something extraordinary, a wonderful tingling feeling all over my body. For weeks I tried to have it again, when I was in the bath or in bed. I imagined a handsome man - not my brother, of course - looking at me as I stood naked before him. But it got more and more difficult to make the feeling come and in the end I forgot about it. Until the other evening. When I was showing myself nude to all those men, I had the feeling again. And afterwards I remembered where it came from." "There you are, you see," I said, "that's the inner voice telling you the truth about yourself and about what you really want to do." "Did that happen to you, Kato-san?" Emi asked shyly. "Did you have an inner voice which had been waiting for years like mine?" "Yes," I said thoughtfully, "something happened to me too when I was beginning to have sexual feelings. But it was a different thing." "Oh, please tell me! After all, I told you about mine." "Another time, perhaps," I said. It was too soon to tell Emi about my love of the whip; she was too young to understand. One day it would be offered to her, and she would make it part of her sexual life, or not, according to what her inner voice told her. At least she had learnt to listen to the voice, and to trust what it told her. She already had the happiness of knowing one beautiful truth about herself and her desires. "Did the party go on very late?" I asked, briskly changing the subject. "Well, yes, _rather_, because ... I was just telling Matsumoto-san before you came ... when the party was ending a group of men invited me to go on somewhere with them, and we went to an apartment, and - oh, I had such a _wonderful_ time!" "What did they do to you?" I asked, curious despite my other preoccupations. "They said I needed more experience in taking them, you know, in my mouth, and of course I agreed because I _did_, and they were so kind - they showed me how to suck and lick them nicely, and even how to swallow them right down my throat, though I found that a bit difficult but of course I kept practising. And do you know, I discovered something so exciting - every man's cum tastes different! Isn't that just fantastic? Wouldn't it be wonderful to go through a whole party taking every man in my mouth so's to compare them all?" Emi giggled naughtily. She was learning fast, I thought. "Yes, dearie," said Matsumoto-san rather impatiently, "a well-known fact. Still," she added quickly as Emi looked crushed, "it's lovely when you first find out, isn't it?" "Oh, yes!" said Emi, cheerful again. "But Kato-san, I wanted to thank you so _very_ much for letting me see your video last time! You were incredible! You know, I think I can remember every scene. I go through them when I'm in bed, imagining them happening to me. I do so wish I could do what you do!" I thanked her; and then kissed her, because she reminded me so of myself the first time I ever saw a fuck video. I too had dreamt of becoming an actress, and had relived all the scenes - though mostly with my lover of the time, not just playing with myself in bed like Emi. "But I wanted to tell you," Emi was rattling on, "something strange happened. While I was watching the video, a man came into the theatre and sat down beside me. I did so hope he wasn't going to talk to me or anything, because I wanted so much to watch what _you_ were doing - you know, trying to remember everything so I could imagine it all again later, like I told you. But he just smiled at me, then sat there quietly watching the screen with me, till the video ended and the lights came up." "Who was it?" I couldn't help asking - even though I had already guessed. "Well, he was quite elderly with grey hair, but when he started talking he had such a lovely voice, soft and gentle, I felt I couldn't refuse him anything." "I know," I said. "So what did he do to you?" asked Matsumoto-san bluntly, beginning to add "the old goat" until I shushed her. "Well, of course he asked me who I was and what I was doing there, and I told him and explained that we were friends, Kato-san - I hope you don't mind my saying that because it's true in a way, isn't it? Then he asked how old I was and I told him -" "The truth?" "Yes," said Emi, blushing. Then he said we'd have to leave the little theatre because the operator wanted to pack up, and he took me down the corridor to a nice office and then into a beautiful room with armchairs and TV and hi-fi and everything." "So you sat on the sofa together ..." "Yes, and I told him about my party and how you'd been so wonderfully kind and lent me a dress. And he asked me to stand up and show him, and he said how nice it looked on me - which it _did_, you remember, it was the one I've got here, the one with just the gold rope over my breasts. And then he asked me very nicely if I was looking forward to taking it off at the party, and because I was somehow feeling warm and comfortable with him, before I knew what I'd done I said yes and would he like to see how I was going to do it." "So he said yes." "That's right, he did! And I undressed for him the way you taught me, you know - slowly, and letting the dress fall backwards off my shoulders. Then somehow it seemed natural to do what you said, walking up to him, you remember, and saying those things about hoping he'd be gentle with me." She sighed happily. "Oh, and he _was_!" Matsumoto-san and I looked at each other, horrified and yet elated as well. Emi must never know, of course, but she must have been the last girl Mr Nagao had fucked before he was incapacitated by his heart attack - perhaps the last girl he would ever fuck. The excitement must just have been too much for him. "How many times?" asked Matsumoto-san. "Twice," said Emi with a little blush. "First in my mouth, and then - you know, here." She put her hand on her cunt through the heavy blue material of her school uniform skirt. One day Emi would have to learn the language of love, but this wasn't the moment to teach her. "Oh, I do like doing it with older men!" she said happily, her eyes dancing as she looked from one to the other of us. "I didn't expect I would, but I do. They know so much more and they take their time." Well, as Mr Otani's Lolita I was hardly in a position to disagree. "Do you know what I did?" she went on. "I know you'll think it's naughty of me, but I waited till I was alone in the house and then called the man I met outside Shibuya Station - you remember, I showed you his business card - and said I wanted to be available for 'assisted dating'. And I went to see him in his office." "What happened?" I asked, when she paused, waiting a little defiantly for our reaction. "Well, he took down my details and measurements, of course, and then told me to undress for some photographs. I didn't realise he'd want that, I thought - you know, just a photo like an identity card. But he photographed me taking off my school uniform, and then he handed me such a pretty little pair of lacy white panties, and I posed for him with them on, and taking them off, and then with nothing ... Ohh, it was lovely!" "You enjoyed posing for the camera, did you?" asked Matsumoto-san. "Oh, _yes_! It was wonderful! Rather like the tingly feeling I get from the men looking at me when I'm naked at parties, but more ... as if the camera were stroking me, very delicately. Is that the way it is for you, Kato-san?" she asked suddenly. "Yes," I said thoughtfully, "I suppose it is like that. There's something special about being photographed completely nude. As if the lens were a window into another world, and all the people there were looking at me through the window without my knowing ... and yet of course I do know, or guess, that they're there, and how much they want me ..." I was transported back to the cramped bathroom of my mother's little house, where I had once teased myself by nightly imagining that the mirror was a window through which men secretly admired my developing body. As of course they had done only the other day, when I stood innocently naked in the undressing-room of the Paradise Club. "Oh, I so wish I could do what you do, Kato-san!" Emi was saying, making no secret of her growing schoolgirl crush on me. "Your video - I didn't just enjoy watching you naked and making love - I loved feeling how much you were enjoying it too. Doing it with the camera watching, I mean. Oh, I want to do that! It must be lovely. It's so unfair that I have to wait so long. The man who took my photos said I was already developed enough to pose nude for the magazines. He said if I wanted he could arrange for it, and no one would guess I was underage. Isn't that wonderful? He said I could accept presents from my _enjo kosai_ dates, just like you told me; but I couldn't be paid yet for the nude pictures." "_He'll_ make a lot of money out of selling them," said Matsumoto-san rather grimly. "But I don't _mind_!" said Emi. "I want him to be pleased with me. I don't want money, I just want to be photographed with nothing on and making love because - oh, because I want to do it more than anything else in the world!" "But what about your mother?" I asked suddenly, remembering the trouble she had been in for coming home so late from her first party. "Won't she be annoyed if you are out late so often?" "Oh dear," said Emi, "all this _oyabare_[9] is so difficult, and so unfair. But I persuaded her that if I was very good during the week I could go out on Saturday with friends, and sometimes stay overnight if I tell her where I am. Well, that's not really a lie because that's what I do anyway, though not the way she thinks. I have to leave her a phone-number of course but I've discovered lots of my school-friends have the same problem with their parents, and they've arranged together to take turns answering calls." "What about these dates you're hoping for? Won't they keep you out late?" "I told the man at the agency I would only be free for a couple of hours straight after school. He said that was all right, and lots of his customers liked it that way." "Now, Emi," said Matsumoto-san briskly, obviously tired of her prattle, "we're a bit busy here so you must run along." "Oh, but can't I borrow some more nice dresses?" she begged. "Yes, of course, I'd forgotten that's what you really came for. What sort of thing do you want?" "Well," said Emi, who had obviously given a lot of thought to it, "for this Saturday's party can I have another dress which shows my breasts? That was so nice the other week. Lots of men wanted me even before I took the dress off. It was so nice to stand there, teasing a bit you know, pretending I didn't know what they wanted. And my friend at the dating agency thought I'd get offers quite soon and until I start being given presents can I have one or two pretty things to wear on dates? He said _very_ tight and _very_ short would be best ..." Once Emi had left, delightedly bearing off her booty in a couple of the company's discreet carrier bags, I looked seriously at Matsumoto-san. "I'm a bit worried about that girl. Do you think she really has a vocation for our kind of work?" "No," she said decisively. "I've seen plenty of girls like Emi. The sex industry must get through thousands of them every month. She's in love with sex, of course, which is wonderful for her while it lasts. She's making sure she gets plenty of it, which shows she has guts and determination. She loves showing off to an audience. But she hasn't got the star quality you have, and never will have." "So what will happen to her?" "Oh, she'll get modelling jobs. She's desperate to do that. The camera gives her a thrill like nothing else. She'll be in the soft porn magazines, the little darling: showing herself off, hoping to catch the eye of someone with a career to offer her. If she's lucky she'll be given parts in quickie sex videos by some of our less particular competitors - and they'll end up being remaindered on the stalls outside the stores in Akihabara. Then she'll be dropped. She won't be interesting anymore and there'll be even newer girls with even fresher young bodies to show off, eager to get a start and try their luck." "Poor Emi." "Oh, I don't know," said Matsumoto-san, pouring hot water into her teapot. "She'll have a lovely time while it lasts. And when she's finished she'll have some beautiful memories of how she was once a pretty nude model who could have any man she wanted. I think it's sweet," Matsumoto-san went on sentimentally, "the way these girls are so keen. Isn't it nice our sex industry is so big it can find room for them all - for a while at least? I sometimes think there's hardly a girl in the country who doesn't start dreaming of a career as a nude model from the moment her breasts start to grow." "Yes," I said, remembering. "I thought of nothing else in bed for years. Till my lover showed me my first sex videos, and I discovered my real vocation was for acting not modelling." "And of course you longed to show yourself off _completely_ nude, didn't you?" "Well, of _course_. What's the point, otherwise?" "Exactly what they all dream of doing, and why not? It's so lovely for them, now the battle over _hea-nuudo_ has been won." Matsumoto-san meant the shots, previously banned under the censorship laws, of completely nude ("hair-nude") girls, prettily displaying the crisp curls of their pubic hair the way the Gods intended them to do. She seemed quite overcome at the thought of the happiness the removal of this restriction had brought to so many excited girls, modestly proud of their nudity and eager to display it to the camera fully and naturally. We in the sex video industry were fighting for the same freedom to show fucking in all its true beauty, but without success so far. It would come. "But if you're right that Emi doesn't have a future in the modelling business," I asked, "won't she be awfully upset?" Matsumoto-san blew her nose and poured herself some tea. "Well, perhaps, but as I said she's got plenty of determination. She can find work in the clubs and soaplands if she wants. Or some kind of low-level office work, and keep sex for parties and dates. One day she'll end up as an ordinary Japanese wife, hoping an undeserving husband will never realise how she comes to be so good at sex. Sometimes she'll pull the old magazines out from wherever she hides them, and look at the pictures and remind herself of what she once was. Oh, well. We've been lucky so far, you and I. Have some more tea." FOOTNOTE [8] If you want to know more about this incident, you’ll find it in Chapter V of _We Always Do It for Real_, the book Bob and I wrote about my earlier sexual experiences. [9] Literally "exposure to parents", usually the mother, or being found out by her. But it doesn't imply guilt or punishment: rather damage to a relationship. In an interesting article in the _Asahi Shimbun_ newspaper of 9 September 1993 (evening edition), a professor from the Tokyo Metropolitan University who has been researching the sex-life of the modern Japanese schoolgirl (and you mean he actually gets _paid_ for doing that?) comments on her role-playing skill: she is an underage sex-kitten eager to improve her technique by learning from an experienced man when she goes on _enjo kosai_ (assisted dating) assignations; she is a cute little darling just discovering the joys of showing herself off nude when she poses for the camera; she is an experienced little whore when she wiggles her _no-pan_ (pantyless) bottom in her provocative micro-skirted _bodikon_ dress (see Chapter XV) on the street or in discos, ready to give herself on the spot to anyone who wants her; and she is a never-been-kissed virgin when she is helping her mother around the house or with the shopping. For most Japanese there is no underlying reality. Role-playing and reality are the same thing: you are what you are pretending to be. _Oyabare_ is shameful because it implies a failure in role-playing skill. The Professor calculates that around 10,000 underage schoolgirls are active in the Tokyo sex trade, earning perhaps Y20,000 an evening for a couple of hours' work posing nude in photographers' studios or being fucked on "assisted dates" - or, as I could have told the Professor, performing at discreet sex-clubs where sweet underage girls willingly satisfy every taste, the more perverted the more eagerly. I reckon 10,000 is only about 5 percent of Tokyo schoolgirls aged between puberty and 16. There must be many, many more than that active in the sex trade, bless them. More research needed, Professor! - Bob Williams [Next in Part 19: Chapter XIX: Restructuring] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams