We_Always_Do_It_For_Real.10 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 10 [CHAPTER VII CONTINUED] I had then so little experience of sex that the new fantasies I developed were hardly rooted in reality: they were techniques, often discovered by accident, of heightening the pleasure of fondling and caressing my developing body. Sometimes I imagined passing through the mirror, like Alice, to join the watching man, who in my fantasy was chained naked to the wall, condemned to watch my wanton, lascivious display without ever being allowed relief. (I sometimes toyed with the idea of giving him relief, but I was so ignorant of the mechanics of the process that I was obliged to leave him to suffer.) In another bedtime fantasy it was I who was in chains, delicately ornamental ones serving only to enhance my shining nudity, standing in an exotic slave-market with my newly-acquired breasts jutting out hard and confident as customers examined, probed and tested. If I remained awake long enough I continued the fantasy with my purchase and the journey to my new home, still proudly naked, through crowded streets. The thought of being naked in public, however impracticable it seemed outside the slave-market scenario, gave me a lovely tingling feeling. Occasionally as I lay on the edge of sleep my mind would return to the half-forgotten fantasies of my early puberty and, unbidden, add a scene of cruel whipping for supposed disobedience to my new master whom in fact I adored and wanted only to please; and I would finally surrender to sleep wondering why imagining such pain should send such exquisite spasms of pleasure through my warm, relaxed body. So when, in the cinema that evening, Ken said breathlessly, "Shall we go somewhere?" and I gasped, lowered my eyes modestly and didn't say no, I knew pretty well what sort of place he meant and what he intended we should do when we got there. The love-hotel he took me to was a simple one, the room he hired containing just ordinary motel furniture and a double bed - not the elaborate "theme" equipment of the more expensive places like the famous Meguro Emperor. There couples could pretend to be a Roman lord dallying with an obedient slave, a shipwrecked sailor on a tropical island rescued by a local maiden, a master torturer getting to work on a helpless victim, and so on. But there was a video camera and player, which Ken lost no time in setting up so that our pleasures could be recorded with all his newly learnt expertise, and enjoyed again later in retrospect. He showed me the notice reminding couples to pay for the tape if they took it with them or erase it if they did not, and told me that rooms in love-hotels were often equipped with specially designed players with erase buttons which did not work, the joys of unsuspecting happy couples often ending up on the "Amateur" shelves of pornographic video stores. I noticed that when we left an hour later Ken chose to take our tape with him. I sometimes wonder what happened to it: does he still keep it for his own pleasure? Or, if I become famous one day, will he sell it at a high price as _Megumi Kato's First Fuck_? I won't pretend sex with Ken was the greatest ever but he taught me a lot. I learnt how to drive a man repeatedly to the brink of ecstasy by sucking his cock, flicking my tongue across the sensitive membrane on the underside, and then forcing him to hold back his orgasm at the last moment by quickly squeezing the root of his shaft. I learnt how to make the walls of my cunt pulsate and ripple when he was inside me so as to increase his pleasure. I did not make much progress with arse-fucking, however much he tried to teach me to relax my sphincter muscles: I was sure that I was just too small for that kind of pleasure. But we experimented with tying each other up for sex, and I learnt from him a great deal about what clothes to wear to attract a man, how to take them off for him, and how to achieve that special Japanese feminine skill of looking demure and sexually aroused at the same time. He taught me the essential lesson that sex is the greatest pleasure in life, and that it can and should be enjoyed anywhere and in any way one feels like it. Even more important, I learnt the great truth that wonderful sex is about giving, not taking. If you concentrate with all your heart on giving pleasure to your partners, they will give it back to you beyond your wildest dreams. Before long I was visiting him at his tiny apartment for sex sessions rather than letting him spend money on love-hotels. There was a discreet shop selling sex aids and pornography nearby, and we soon built up quite a little collection of outrageously sexy outfits and kinky bits of equipment. I had to keep all this stuff at Ken's apartment of course, as I couldn't take it home where my mother might find it. Ken was good with his hands and was learning at his college to design gadgets for trick photography, special effects and so on. One day, when we had been playing with dildos bought from the sex aids shop - a big, fat vibrating phallus for my cunt and a slim, short one shaped like a man's middle finger which was the most I could accommodate with pleasure in my arse - he suddenly announced that he had an idea. He took them off to his college and a few days later proudly produced a device he had put together in the workshop there. The two dildos had been fixed upright to a narrow band of cloth which passed between my legs. He had added a third device to the band: a small ridged plate positioned so that when the dildos were inserted it fitted snugly against my clitoris. The ends of the band connected to a narrow belt round my waist, buckled tightly so that all three devices were held firmly and deeply in place. The phallus held rechargeable batteries as usual, and wiring hidden in the cloth enabled the batteries to drive the vibrations of all three devices at once. We decided the only possible name for this equipment was Megumi's Anti-Chastity Belt. Lying buckled into my belt, the three vibrators going at full stretch, titillated me so unbearably that I was constantly begging Ken to take it off me and give me a proper fuck. Tying me up with the machinery firmly in place, unable to escape from it and begging for full satisfaction, became one of our favourite sex games. Sometimes I would take the risk of wearing it in public. It was unbearably exciting to walk down the street or sit demurely in the subway strapped into my belt, without panties of course and wearing only my tiniest skirt, trying to conceal my arousal from passers-by and fellow-passengers. I began to fantasise about being on my own in public like that without Ken to protect me, letting myself be picked up by strangers and begging them to satisfy me, but I never had the courage - then - to do it in reality. "I've got something special for us to watch tonight," said Ken one day, not long after our relationship had begun. He passed me the package. Inside was an adult video. I wasn't at all keen. What I'd seen of pornography had been sleazy and disagreeable. Thanks to Ken I had learnt to see sex as beautiful, a sort of miracle you could call up whenever you wanted to, and I didn't want to spoil that vision. But Ken insisted that the star of the video, Mie Takahashi, was a lovely performer; he had seen her other films and couldn't wait to enjoy this one. He thought it would turn me on too, and when it was over we could make wonderful love to each other. So I agreed, privately deciding that if I didn't like it I could slip away and make some coffee or something. Ken was right. It was a lovely film, and Miss Takahashi was beautiful. I always think of her as "Miss Takahashi" now that I am a beginner at the studio where she was once a major star. The story of the video was about a girl in an office who had had a wonderful sexual experience on her holidays which caused her to keep fantasising about sex of all kinds. Of course I know now that this is a common plot-line in our business because it allows the star to be fucked in lots of different ways. Miss Takahashi was successively a nurse being raped by a doctor; an "office lady" being sexually molested by her boss; a stripper exciting an audience by doing astonishing things with a beer bottle; a girl playing pool in a gorgeous micro-dress and then offering herself to the male players on the table, encouraging them to take her in the most remarkable ways; and a (rather tame, I see now) dominatrix in a brothel. She was beautiful, with sensational legs and lovely, firm breasts. She did not look entirely Japanese: her mother was half Italian or Spanish I think, and her breasts were much more provocative than mine will ever be. What is more, she did everything with obvious pleasure and enthusiasm. Two more things I didn't know then were that Miss Takahashi was living up to the Marucho slogan "We Always Do It For Real"; and that Ken had somehow, perhaps through a contact in the film business, got hold of an "unofficial" tape of this video without the "mosaic" that has to be superimposed on shots of cunts and cocks under Japan’s fuddy-duddy censorship. All I knew then was that my whole body was beginning to share her obvious pleasure in what she was doing, and that I was wetter and more aroused than I had ever been in my life before. As soon as the video was over I fell on Ken, tore his clothes off and insisted that he do to me everything that had been done to the lovely girl on the screen. In bed at home that night I thought, "How lucky she is to be able to enjoy all that lovely fucking, and at the same time show other people how to fuck better." I replayed the video in my mind. The scene of the office lady being sexually harassed was very arousing, and I fantasised that it was happening to me. But perhaps the sad thought that my own future had little more than a dull office job to offer planted a little seed in my mind. There were after all other professions: to be an actress like Miss Takahashi, not only happy myself but also making lots of other people happy, seemed the sort of opportunity that beckoned only in dreams. I told Ken I wanted to see all the fuck videos he could get his hands on. After a while I became an expert in the genre. I knew there were certain videos which were well and attractively made, and which really turned me on. The best of all starred Miss Takahashi. Sometimes I could restrain my own lust long enough to sit through the credits at the end and see that my favourite videos were often made by a company called Marucho, with an address in Shibuya and the slogan, "We Always Do It For Real". CHAPTER VIII Megumi's Vocation One evening the little seed planted a few weeks earlier burst into flower and I said to Ken, "Do you know what I would really like to do when I leave school? I'd like to be a fuck film star like Mie Takahashi." "Of course you would," he said. "I've known that for weeks. Have you only just realised the truth about yourself?" I was furious and punched him. He grabbed my wrists, and then things became rather confused and we found ourselves re-enacting the scene in which Miss Takahashi was raped gloriously on the pool table. When order was restored, I said: "But what can I do? I dream about it all the time but I don't know where to start." "Why not start by writing to her? Tell her how much you admire her and ask her advice." "I can't do that! She'd think I'm a lesbian." "You could always tell her in your letter that you're not." "Don't be ridiculous!" I said. But when I thought about it later his idea didn't seem so ridiculous, and a few days later I found myself writing my first ever fan-letter. I said I hoped Miss Takahashi wouldn't think it strange to have a girl as an admirer, but I did so love her performances and hoped she would understand how much happiness they had brought into my life, showing me how wonderful sex could be. Then, very daring, I confessed that - thanks to her - I had conceived this ambition to be a porn film actress myself and wondered if she would be so kind as to offer advice to a stranger on how to enter the profession. A week later I got a reply. Miss Takahashi wasn't at all offended at getting a fan-letter from a girl: it happened quite often, she said. She was delighted to hear that her videos had added something to the sex I was having with my lovers (nice of her, I thought, to assume I had more than one). It was one of the most wonderful things about her work that she could teach others how to enjoy themselves while having an enjoyable time herself. She was pleased, and touched, to hear that her performances had inspired me to want to take up the same work. She warned me that there were many applications from very keen and talented girls and the competition was tough, but promised she would pass on my interest to the company's personnel department. No doubt I would hear from them soon. She enclosed a signed photograph of herself: it was lovely, but fortunately not too provocative, and I was able to put it up in my room without my mother asking any awkward questions. I told her she was a film actress I admired and she did not even ask what she had appeared in. Another week passed, and at last another letter arrived. All that week I had felt as if I were waiting to hear from a new lover: will I see him today? will he call tomorrow? Will he invite me on a date and if he does will he want to fuck me? This letter might mean a whole new life for me. The letter was signed by a Mr Niijima, describing himself as Business Manager of the company. He was pleased to hear that I was interested in working for Marucho. I must understand that the company received far more applications than they could accept. But I was welcome to complete the application form if I wished, and submit the required material. He looked forward to hearing from me if I decided to proceed further. The form was the usual sort of document requesting a lot of personal details - some of them _very_ personal, which was natural enough in this case, but most Japanese companies like to know intimate details of the physical appearance and personal life of their female applicants. The required supporting material consisted of still photographs and a video. The stills should include close-ups, shots in favourite outfits, full-length nude photos from front and back, close-ups of my tits and pussy, and so on. The company kindly suggested that to avoid difficulties with the local film processing shop I should get these photos taken on Polaroids or, better still, send them an undeveloped exposed film which they could process in their own labs. The video was to be in three parts. First, I was to do a straightforward strip to camera, and when I was completely nude they wanted to see me fondling myself and masturbating to orgasm. Secondly, they required a fuck scene, nothing too complicated, just me and one other boy or girl at my choice. The third part of the video was for me to show them my "specialism". There was no explanation of what that might be. At the end, in small print, the instructions reminded me that all photos and videos submitted would become the property of the company. They didn't say that, having been passed round for the enjoyment of company employees and their friends, they would end up in the "Amateur" section of the pornography market. You were supposed to know that without being told. Still, if I wanted to become a great adult video star, there was no point in starting by being coy about displaying myself naked for the pleasure and stimulation of people I had never met. In fact, that was exactly what I longed to do, and it gave me a lovely shivery feeling just thinking about it. Perhaps I really was a natural for the business, as Ken had suggested, even though at the time I was angry with him. [Next in Part 11: Chapter VIII concluded]