We_Always_Do_It_For_Real.03 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 03 I sat down in some confusion. He sat beside me and examined my left breast, or perhaps just the name-badge in the same area. I opened the shoulder-bag I had collected from my locker and got out a businesslike note-pad and pen. I crossed my legs to rest the pad on my knee, and then realised that in my confusion I hadn't pulled my floppy skirt down over my upper thighs. I decided to let it stay where it was: it probably looked provocative, but pulling it down now would be too coy. Anyway, I remembered after a moment's thought, I _was_ wearing panties. "Mr Williams, please tell me what you wish to study at our company," I said carefully. "Megumi-san, my name is Bob," he replied in a kind of Japanese, "and I would like to study you," he added in English, as a sort of joke I suppose. I decided not to understand that. "Please tell me your objectives so that I may plan your tour to your satisfaction." So in a mixture of Japanese and English, he told me. He said he had lived in Tokyo for three years, first as a correspondent of a Western newspaper, and then as a free-lance writer. He said he had been commissioned to do a series of articles for an American magazine on the Japanese sex industry and wanted to see round a typical blue film studio. (Well, he actually said "pink film" because he knew that's what they're called in Japanese.) Then with a bit of embarrassment - I still haven't learnt the Western rules of what is embarrassing and what isn't - he told me that to earn extra money he had started a series of pornographic stories and novels. They were set in Japan because Western publishers and readers were fascinated by Japanese girls' sex lives. There was quite a demand for that sort of material and he was beginning to be known as a writer of it. He thought it would give him ideas for plots if he could see our work here. It sounded reasonable enough to me and I couldn't see why he was embarrassed about telling me. I decided to take him on the full tour of the facilities. I would have done that anyway, but visitors like it if the guide asks about their special interests and seems to adjust the tour accordingly. In fact they only ever have one special interest, which is to be on the set when a fuck video is being made. We stood up and started on our tour. Mr Williams remarked on the warmth of the building and asked if he could leave his jacket somewhere. Rather than leave it in the reception area, which we were expected to keep neat and tidy, I took him downstairs and let him hang it in my locker: underneath he had just a casual shirt above his jeans. He insisted on my going into the elevator ahead of him, and took me by the upper arm to make sure I did. I liked that. As soon as I conveniently could as we walked together down the corridor, I had some trouble with the heel of a shoe and had to borrow his shoulder to lean on innocently while I fixed it. As I hopped on one foot he put his arm round me to steady me, his fingers caressing my bare back and taking advantage of the way the dress was cut very low on my waist. I liked that too, a lot, and gave him a special smile of thanks - a mixture of shyness and encouragement. I began to feel glad that I had come into work specially on my free day: the afternoon was getting off to a promising start. As we walked together I was a little closer to him than I would normally be with a stranger. My skin was still tingling from his touch, and I very much wanted him to touch me again. We usually start the tour with the technical departments. Many visitors find them interesting, and it's better to let the tour climax with the visit to the action in the film studios. I took my guest to the editing department and the staff showed him the sophisticated computer equipment which allows videotape to be joined without any jump. Then we went to the costume department, which is one of my favourite places because I am so fond of sexy clothes. I am always there when I have nothing else to do, looking through the stock and trying on shoes and dresses designed to make a girl look pretty and desirable. Of course I introduced him to dear Matsumoto-san who has mothered me ever since I started in the company - but I'll tell you later all about her and what she did for me. Then I thought it was time to show Mr Williams how our videos are actually made. In Studio One Noriko, a girl who had joined the company about a year before I did, was preparing to fuck three men at once. She was on hands and knees, one erect cock already conveniently by her mouth, but the man supposed to be in her pussy was having trouble sorting his legs out from those of the man already firmly plugged into her arse. The Director was clearly losing patience with them. "Why on earth don't they ..." Mr Williams began. In the dark I moved even closer to him and felt his hands take me gently by the waist. I leant lightly against him, pretending that I only wanted to get my lips close to his ear and speak softly so as not to irritate the Director further. "Why don't they what?" I asked. "What would you do?" He said nothing, but he clearly had his own ideas about how such a scene could be choreographed, and was just concerned not to show off in front of professionals. His arms were now holding me close and I could feel his erection beginning to build against my bottom. Reluctantly I pulled away from him. In Studio Two they were filming an S&M video. A man whose name I couldn't remember - though he'd had me a few times on set and once off it at an office party - was lying on his back, his arms and legs manacled and chained to big metal rings set in the walls. Four girls, dressed two by two in red and black leather corsets which squeezed their waists cruelly but left their breasts and cunts uncovered, matching stiletto-heeled shoes and long gloves, were standing around him holding large, lighted candles such as you see on the altars of Buddhist temples. When the Director gave the signal they tilted their candles to the horizontal so that the molten wax spattered on the man's stomach, thighs and genitals. He writhed in realistic agony but his rapidly erecting cock made it clear he was begging for more. In unison, the girls tilted their candles further, from what is technically called "soft" to "hard" hot-wax torture, the candles now almost upside-down, the wax pouring onto their victim, some drops still flaming as they landed on his skin. He screamed and begged them - to stop? to hurt him more? he probably didn't know himself - and at another sign from the Director the girls in red handed their candles to the girls in black and changed their positions. One squatted over the man's face, looking down his body. The chains restricting his hands were long enough to enable him to seize her by the waist, pinching it even tighter than the corset did, while he buried his tongue deep in her wet pussy and slurped her juices with obvious delight. The other girl in red squatted over his cock and gradually took it into her cunt while his hips writhed as eagerly as his tongue. The two girls bent towards each other and began to kiss enthusiastically, their tongues protruding from their mouths for the benefit of the camera as they coupled. Meanwhile the girls in black corsets poked their candles into the centre of the triangle formed by the three bodies so that the man's stomach continued to be soaked in molten wax. It was obvious from the way the victim was groaning and writhing under the girls' clever torture that he was on the point of coming, but before he could do so the Director called "Cut!" When a lover discovers that I work in the sex-film industry, he always begs me to get him parts as the stud in our videos. The thought of fucking a lot of sexy, skilful girls on camera - _and_ getting paid for it - is a real turn-on for just about every man, I think. But I always tell him to think carefully what it means. He will be expected to produce an erection whenever required, which he thinks will be easy when he looks at me and the other girls in costume, but isn't really after he's had to stand around for hours waiting for everything on set to be ready. Men's cocks have a surprisingly delicate mechanism, I find, and just a little loss of confidence or being made to wait can produce a disastrous erection malfunction at the wrong moment. Of course we girls have techniques for putting that right. But there is a much greater problem for a man acting in a sex-video. Even the most potent man can't be expected to come more than - what? four times, five at most - in a day. So not only is the actor required to produce a rock-hard erection to order, and maintain it for as long as the director wants, he often has to pull himself back from the very brink of coming and preserve his limited supply of semen for the real cum-shots. Still, most men who manage to get into the sex-film business love the work - and I will say the skills they acquire make them very satisfactory lovers off-screen. Meanwhile my guest was showing no sign of erection malfunction and was clearly aroused further by the thought of being the victim himself in a torture scene such as the one he had been watching. "Good God," he said, "I thought that was always faked." I drew myself up proudly. "Not in our studio," I said. "'We Always Do It For Real'. It's our company motto." "Amazing," he said. "I wonder ... I always thought you had to be very odd to do that, but now ... I'd really like to know what it feels like. I suppose -" he cleared his throat a couple of times "- I suppose it depends who you do it with. Or ... who does it to you." He sounded short of breath and dry-mouthed. I was no calmer: watching the scene in his company had affected me deeply. My cunt had already been well stimulated by my session with the vibrator on the way to work, and then frustrated when I was obliged to remove it. I could feel its juices beginning to flow again, soaking my panties. It was only by an effort that I reminded myself I was on duty, and stopped my hand from sneaking down under my skirt and into the top of my tights and skimpy little panties to caress my pussy. In the overspill of the studio lighting I stole a look at the front of my guest's jeans. The hard swelling I could see there now appeared fully grown, and excited me still further. That would be better than anything my fingers could do to give release to my excited cunt. As I moved still closer to him I wriggled against his crotch, trying to make it seem unintentional. I don't think I succeeded. He suddenly thought of something. "And you, Megumi-san?" he said hoarsely. "You act here too, don't you? Do _you_ always do it for real? And do you perform in scenes like that?" His arm was round my naked waist again now, and I was standing so close to him that his fingers easily slid under the front of my dress and caressed my breast. The nipple was already firmly erect. The sudden touch made me gasp; then, in case he mistook my reaction for protest, I moved even closer to him and let out a soft "mmm'mmm" of pleasure. At last I took a deep breath and made myself reply carefully to his question. "I'm an actress here, yes," I said. I had mentioned that when we called at the costume department. "I'm your guide today because it is normally my free day. But of course, when I am on set in front of the camera I obey the company rule." I paused for a moment, wondering if I was about to go too far, then decided to risk it. "Including when I am acting in scenes like that," I began. "And of course it's _so_ much more fun ..." I was interrupted by the Director calling for silence on the set. I pulled away from my lover - I was already secretly looking on him as that - and we stole out of the studio. "I hope you are finding your tour interesting," I said formally once we were again in the corridor. "Most interesting," he said dryly, making fun of me I suppose. "Listen, Megumi-san, if today's usually your free day, are you off duty again once my tour is over? Because I'd really like to see you privately. There's lots you could tell me about the work here. It'd help me so much in my writing." That's what I like about Westerners: if they want something, they say so. If I take a Japanese man round the studio, he'd never ask me for a date, no matter how much he wanted me. He'd think it wasn't the right time, not while I was doing my job. He might ring the studio next day and try to contact me - if he remembered. More likely he'd just jerk off that evening watching one of my videos, and decide that was good enough and all he really wanted. I think Mr Williams thought from my silence that he'd said something wrong. "I'm sure you've made lots of videos," he went on. "God, I'd like to see them. Where can I get them?" Another conflict of East-West behaviour. In fact, I had copies of two of the videos starring me which had so far been released, neatly parcelled up in company wrapping-paper, in my shoulder-bag as a gift to him at the end of his tour. That was normal procedure with us guides. As we said good-bye to our guests, we would bow, hand over the gift and say coyly, "These tapes are only of my poor performances. I am very sorry. But I hope you will enjoy them nevertheless." However, it is of course very bad manners ever to tell someone he is going to get a present, or for him to assume that he will. And it is just as rude to open a present in the presence of the giver to see what it is. I decided to compromise. "Please don't worry about that, I have copies here and will give them to you." "That's wonderful!" he said. "But, Megumi-san, what about a date this evening? Are you free? Or some other time?" It was very flattering that he wanted me so much. "You'd like me to tie you up and pour hot candle-wax over you, would you?" I said with a coy little smile. It was fun teasing this big, strong _gaijin_. When we are lovers, I thought - yes, I was already taking it as settled that we would be - I would tease him a lot. I was sure it would stimulate him to do lovely things to me in return. After all, I was thinking with a part of my mind, that's why showing myself off nude to a roomful of men is called striptease: teasing them, holding back their lust for me till I decide the moment has come to release the dam and let it burst wonderfully over me ... "Well, er ... I ..." he was saying. He swallowed and coughed to hide his embarrassment. He _did_ want me to torment him like that, he wanted it very much, and yet could not quite admit it. Lots of men react like that when you suggest something exciting and kinky. He got himself under control. "Maybe on the _second_ date," he said with a smile. "But tonight?" "Well, yes, it is a free evening. And tomorrow is a free day. But ..." I suppose he thought that I didn't want to see him. Or wasn't allowed to under company rules. But in fact I was thinking something quite different. I hadn't had a man anywhere inside me since two days ago on set. And that was just reaction shots, or retaking things that hadn't worked in the main shooting of my latest video: the man had come too soon, or the lighting wasn't right, or something like that. It hadn't been at all satisfying hanging around on the set while the technicians argued about the exact position we needed to take up so that the new shots would fit into the continuity. I was still deeply aroused by the S&M scene we'd just been watching, and even more aroused by seeing its effect on my guest and by the feel of his touch on my skin. Now that I knew he had secret desires which perhaps matched my own, I hoped for a relationship in which we could explore them together. But as he had suggested, that could wait. First of all I wanted him to fuck me, and fuck me hard, long and well - and he had shown me clearly enough how keen he was to give me what I needed. And I needed it now, straightaway, not some time later in the evening when we'd been through hours of deciding what to wear, where to go, how to get there, what to eat, whose apartment to go back to ... "But what?" he said. Suddenly I had an idea. I pretended to look professional and severe. "But I am supposed to show you round the studio. And we haven't finished yet. Please come this way." He followed me meekly as I tripped off on my gold high heels towards the elevator. I could feel his eyes on my bottom, so I gave it a little extra wiggle as I walked. [Next in Part 04: Chapter III: What Happened on the Sixth Floor]