WORK IN PROGRESS 11 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 05: WORK IN PROGRESS BY BOB WILLIAMS ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, NORIKO, FUJIKO, AYUMI, SAEKO, MARIKO, TAMA, MAIKO, SHIZUE, MIE, AYAKO, TOMO, YUU AND RUMI PART 11 CHAPTER XI Personal Best Perhaps you remember Ayako - also known as Aya-chan. She was the girl I once took on holiday to a very special hotel. She wrote a lovely account of what we did there which I included in my book _Unfinished Affairs_. Here she is again, describing how an exciting sexual adventure once opened the door for her to become the great Marucho porn-star she now is. The morning sun was streaming through the window when I woke. We must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night, I thought. I was alone in the big bed, and as I stretched out my naked body I experienced that wonderful feeling of perfect well-being that comes to a girl who has slept well after being comprehensively fucked. I didn't remember much about the previous evening, but it had obviously been really good. I became aware of a pleasant funky smell. I stroked my body and investigated a slight itchiness on my face. I discovered that I was still decorated with great splashes of dried cum on my mouth, breasts and tummy. Ah, _that_ sort of evening, was it? Lovely. Memories began to return. I had no idea where I was, but I remembered being brought to a party. I was the only girl among twelve or fifteen men, and I had been annoyed with my date for not warning me. Not that I dislike being the only girl - very much not! - but I like to prepare myself. I had been expecting the free-flowing sex of a regular party, taking man after man in hole after hole, interspersed with some pretty lesbian displays with other girls for variety and to stimulate the watching men. A gang-bang is lovely too, but I like to dress a little more coyly. It is more fun for all of us if I pretend not to expect the treats in store for me and let out dainty squeals of protest as I am passed from man to man. Yesterday, I now remembered, I had worn only high-heeled gold shoes with long plaited thongs wound tightly round my calves, long gold gloves and tiny gold side-tie panties. _They_ wouldn't have lasted long and were probably now part of some man's souvenir collection. Well, he was welcome to them. I bought my gloves and my sexy panties in bulk from a shop in Shinjuku where I was a welcome customer and often met my girl-friends, all of us choosing the clothes we needed for the lovely world of endless party sex that we enjoyed so much. I sat up in bed, my arms round my knees. The room looked surprisingly tidy, considering what must have happened there only a few hours ago. I could see my shoes lying on the floor near the bed. Sitting up, I felt a beautiful warmth in my anal passage accompanied by a deep unreachable itch. So my arse had had its share of attention! Suppose there had been fifteen men there. At least, I thought, trying to remember. Suppose each one came three times, entering my arse, pussy and mouth even if they chose to pull out at the last moment and anoint me with their cum. Forty-five fucks. Pretty good. No wonder my body felt so pampered and - for the moment at least - well satisfied. I rolled to the edge of the bed, swung my legs over and stood up. I needed a shower. It was a shame to wash off all the lovely cum, but there was plenty more where that came from! It was Saturday, so no office to bother about. And there were lots of sex-parties every Saturday in Tokyo. Somebody would take me to one. It might not be another lovely gang-bang, but I should get plenty of fucking. Especially up my arse, I thought: that deep tickle was showing no sign of leaving me in peace and I knew only one way of scratching it. Of course relieving it would, soon enough, only make it tickle me again even more maddeningly - but that was the wonderful thing about sex: the more you had, the more you wanted ... Still, forty-five fucks was a pretty good personal best for the moment. I looked out of the window. I was quite high up: maybe on the fifth or sixth floor of a block. All I could see was a typically anonymous Japanese cityscape, with no clue as to where exactly in Tokyo I was. It was quite an adventure to be alone in an unknown apartment, with no clothes. Well, the only thing to do was go along with the adventure and see what happened. Meanwhile I needed that shower. There was a bathroom off the bedroom, with a very modern shower equipped with different sprays - not just the simple hand-shower on a bracket so usual in Japan. I enjoyed myself, washing my body with expensive scented soap and tickling myself pleasurably with the variable showers. Then I stepped out and dried myself with one of the enormous fluffy towels provided. The bathroom was remarkably well equipped, with a range of lotions and sprays. Looking through the drawers I found a good collection of feminine make-up - almost as good as if I'd chosen it myself. So I sat in front of the big mirror and made up my face carefully. I rather overdid the lip-gloss, naughtily adding a touch to my nipples as well: but why not? I had no clothes to show myself off with, so must make myself as pretty as I could with what was available. I erected my nipples to the maximum by pinching them hard, relishing the sharp pleasure that flooded through me. "Oh, please stop! Please don't hurt me!" I murmured piteously to my reflection in the mirror, practising; then scented my breasts, pussy and arsehole, trimmed a few stray hairs from the crisp curls of my cunt-hair, and wandered back to the bedroom. I tidied up a little, straightening the sheets of the bed. Then I put on my pretty gold shoes, easing my feet onto the curved soles and tying the plaited thongs smoothly round my ankles and lower calves. There is something special about putting on high-heeled shoes: every girl knows that. The change in posture, the teetering walk, have a strange effect on one's sexual feelings. Of course one can feel full of desire when barefoot; but being forced to stand and walk on tiptoe prepares you for sex in a unique way. Have you noticed that when you come your calf muscles contract, making you point your toes? I guess artificially taking up that position makes some bit of your mind believe orgasm is imminent, and flood you with sexy feelings. Why else do girls so love wearing high heels, and compete with each other to wear the highest, prettiest and most impractical? Of course, seeing a girl wear shoes like that drives men wild with desire, but that isn't the only reason we like wearing them. Teetering across the room on my heels, and enjoying the familiar feelings they gave me, I came to a dressing-table in one corner. I had hardly noticed it before, being preoccupied with more urgent needs, but now I sat down before it and looked at myself in the mirror. Nice; but my hair was still damp and flat from the shower. Without thinking I picked up a brush and attended to it. The table, like the bathroom, was well equipped: there were brushes, combs, cotton-balls and tissues, all neatly arranged in little trays and boxes. I opened the drawers. There was more make-up: I touched up my earlier work, and daringly added more gloss to my hard nipples. In one drawer there was a selection of jewellery; but nowhere were there any clothes - not even the skimpiest panties or bras. Oh, well. From the jewellery drawer I selected a pair of long dangling earrings. They looked nice on me, I thought. There was an elaborate metal chain belt with many little ornaments suspended from it: it looked meant to go with the earrings, so I tried it on. It fitted snugly round my waist. I couldn't really see the effect in the dressing-table mirror, so I went back to the bathroom to look at myself in the big mirrors there. Very nice indeed. Somehow I felt that the mysterious adventure I had embarked on required me to look my best; and as no clothes were provided I was being tested to see what I could do with what there was. Before leaving the bathroom I couldn't resist touching up my make-up yet again and spraying a little more perfume onto my breasts, cunt and arse. Well, _I_ liked the effect; and I hoped this attention to the finer details of my appearance would please whoever owned the bed I had been sleeping in. I realised I was hungry and badly wanted some breakfast. Surely there must be food in this apartment somewhere - even if there were no clothes for a girl to wear! I tried the bedroom door. Somehow I had imagined that in this adventure the door would be locked and that I was at the mercy of whoever had brought me here. Many of the stories in pornographic _manga_ cartoon magazines concerned beautiful heroines imprisoned by evil (and fantastically well-hung) villains. But the door opened easily. I teetered along the corridor on my high heels: at the end was a staircase leading down. So this was a duplex apartment. Up the stairs came a tantalising aroma of coffee - and the sound of voices. So down I went, following the smell of coffee. I opened a door and found myself in a large, very modern kitchen. Seated at the table eating breakfast were two men, a _gaijin_ foreigner and a Japanese. "Excuse me," I said as I entered. They looked at me, startled. The _gaijin_ stood up; the Japanese, nonplussed at this demonstration of western courtesy, tried to stand up too, knocked over his chair, bent over and picked it up, and sat down on it again firmly. I couldn't help giggling. "Good morning Aya-san," said the _gaijin_. "I hope you slept well after all your hard work last night. You are looking very fresh and beautiful today, if I may say so." I blushed and stammered. Japanese men do not compliment girls on their appearance; I know that it is normal in the West but I always find it difficult to respond gracefully. The _gaijin_ noticed my embarrassment and quickly changed the subject. "You must be hungry. Won't you join us for breakfast?" Without waiting he brought up a third chair. Like the others it was plastic-covered: looking appreciatively at my nudity, he produced a freshly laundered kitchen-cloth from a drawer and spread it neatly over the seat. "I expect you'll find that more comfortable," he said with a smile as I sat down. I felt some apology was needed - even if it was really for him and his friend to apologise to me for not providing even minimal clothes. On the other hand, had I not come to this apartment dressed only in gloves and highly disposable g-string panties? Had I any right to expect these men to supply what I had not thought it necessary to bring myself? How complicated it all was, and how difficult to know what was expected of me! "Thank you," I said. "You are very kind. But I am sorry to appear, you know, like this ..." I sketched a gesture over my naked breasts as I sat at the table. "Not at all! You look very nice, and comfortable. Anyway, girls here usually ..." I think he was going on to say, "Girls here usually don't wear clothes," but decided not to press the point. "My name is Peter," he said. "I come from England but live in Japan. I am a photographer and this is my apartment. You are very welcome here." "Thank you. I am sorry to cause you so much trouble ..." We bowed to each other. Only afterwards did it occur to me that all this formality was a bit absurd between a totally nude girl and a man who had (I hoped) fucked her several times the previous evening. "And this is my colleague Osamu." I bowed again, but the Japanese just grunted. "Now I must get you something to eat," Peter said. He quickly made me a delicious bowl of instant _mizoshiru_, followed by several slices of toast. "Coffee or Japanese tea?" "Coffee," I said, my mouth rather full of toast and marmalade, adding "It smells so good. I smelt it upstairs." "Upstairs. Oh, yes. I hope you found the bed comfortable?" "Yes, very. Though I slept so well I hardly noticed." "And I hope you found everything you wanted? You must let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more agreeable." The assumption behind that worried me. "Oh, but I'm afraid I can't ..." He swept my protests aside. Then I realised that I had missed the opportunity to say that the one thing I didn't have and must have, if I was to leave this apartment at my own will, was clothes. "Did you enjoy the party last night?" "Oh, _yes_!" I said, twisting my legs together and feeling my skin tingle at the memory. "You weren't worried at being the only girl? For a moment I thought you might be." "No, no ... it was a surprise of course ... but a lovely surprise!" I added quickly, so as not to seem ungrateful for all the nice things that had been done to me. "Just me and ... how many of you were there? About fifteen?" "We were sixteen, weren't we, Osamu-san? Oh no, Jiro had to cancel at the last minute so we were exactly fifteen." He smiled at me encouragingly. "And you were just splendid!" I blushed and concentrated on stirring my coffee. "How many times did you ... er ... I mean ..." I asked shyly. "Have you?" "Yes. Three times each?" "Oh, that certainly. And some of us managed to have you four times. I certainly did! I just couldn't resist it, you were so good!" "So fifteen men, three times each ..." I suggested tentatively. "And a few more," he said firmly. "Fifty fucks, I'd say. Pretty good, eh?" "Fifty ..." "At least." I looked up at him at last. I felt shy, but proud. "Well, that is certainly my personal best." "Good for you! But I hope we can help you improve on that soon enough." Always there was this implication that I had somehow agreed to surrender my freedom of action to them. But maybe that might have its advantages, a corner of my mind suggested treacherously. "I think I ought to be going soon," I said in a firm voice - or what I hoped would sound firm. The trouble was I didn't really want to go. A sort of compromise occurred to me. "Or is Bob coming to collect me?" Bob was the date who had brought me to this apartment and launched me on my strange adventure. "Bob? Oh, I think Bob has handed you over to us to look after," said Peter. I wasn't sure what to make of that. Should I be angry with Bob? But he wasn't there to be angry with, and Peter had been very nice to me. Perhaps there was a good explanation for whatever arrangement the two men had made. "Wouldn't you like to see the video now?" "You mean - from last night?" I asked. "Yes, of course. Come to the living-room and I'll show you. It's rather good. Needs editing, of course, but ..." I stood up obediently, and he conducted me along the corridor to the living-room. Osamu trailed along behind. It was a big room and, so far as I could work out, directly under the big bedroom where I had spent the night. Perhaps the two floors had once been separate apartments, and that bedroom had been designed as the living-room for the one upstairs. There was a large flat-screen television fixed to one wall, and a big sofa and two armchairs arranged in front of it. Osamu took an armchair: that seemed to be his routine. Peter guided me to the right end of the sofa. It was covered in black leather, which felt wonderfully arousing against my nakedness. Peter sat down beside me and fiddled with a remote control. The video was certainly well made. There were transitional passages which needed to be edited out: obviously when one man had his turn with me he passed the camera to another, and the picture veered around crazily until the second man had it under control. But otherwise the picture was sharp and well-focussed. The first shot showed me entering the living-room in my pretty costume a few steps ahead of Bob. I was unconsciously making "I want to be touched" gestures: tossing back my long hair, stroking my breasts and tummy, pulling up my gold gloves and needlessly smoothing the tiny gold triangle which covered my crotch so temptingly. Then the camera caught my face as I took in the scene awaiting me: most of the men were already naked, their cocks swelling to firm erections as they saw me. I turned back to Bob for a moment, obviously annoyed with him; then my eyes moved back to the delights awaiting me. Memory came flooding back. Soon I was surrounded by a forest of erect cocks. The camera moved round to show my back, the tiny cords of the g-string hidden in the crack of my arse so that I was effectively naked. Hands reached out and tenderly removed the sweet little panty altogether, while my hands stretched out of their own will to stroke the nearest cocks. Soon I was removing my long gold gloves, not wanting them to be soiled in the cum-fest in store for me. As the scene progressed I snuggled back more and more into Peter's arms while his hands wandered delightfully over my nude body, occasionally playing with the decorations on my metal belt. I was blushing, squealing, covering my face with my hands, not wanting - and yet wanting so much - to see what was happening to me on the screen. Not of course that I was ashamed or anything silly like that. The Gods gave us girls beauty so that men would desire us, and bodies perfectly designed for giving and receiving intense pleasure by stroking and petting and - above all - by penetration of our three holes: our soft mouths with their flexible tongues, our deep juicy cunts, and our tight muscular arseholes. Not to show off our teasing beauty, not to receive into our love-holes the male cocks perfectly designed by the same Gods to fit into them, would be an insult to their divine generosity. If I was giggling and burying my face in Peter's chest it was because the intense memory of last night's pleasure, the beautiful images of cock after cock plunging joyfully into me, and the tingling lust surging through me once again were almost too much happiness to bear. (Also, of course, snuggling up to Peter like that made certain that he was as keen to have me again as I was eager to be fucked.) I wanted to tuck my feet under me and sit even closer to Peter, but was concerned that my sharp heels would damage the leather of the sofa. "Help me take my shoes off," I whispered to him, and he at once slid to the floor, his back now to the screen, and gently undid the thongs round my calves and ankles. As he removed each shoe he tenderly sucked and kissed my toes one by one, sliding his tongue between them and making me giggle. As I have just said, a girl's main joy comes from having her love-holes penetrated, but the Gods have made all of her body delightfully sensitive in different ways and finding new places to be made love to is such fun! It took Peter quite a while to finish with my toes - I was glad I had taken the trouble to paint them prettily in preparation for last night's party - and when we were both concentrating on the screen again I was being carried out of the living-room. The shots of me being taken upstairs were just a blur of confused images - perhaps no one was really in charge of the camera just then - but soon I could be seen lying on the big bed while those lovers who still had enough cum in their balls were fucking me hard, coming inside my holes or pulling out at the last moment to beautify my face and breasts with their thick juice. I could almost smell it from the screen: the aroma and taste of cum are incredibly erotic, as every experienced girl knows. At last the video ended: the screen flickered with zigzag lines and then turned an even blue. I couldn't wait any longer. I slid to the ground in front of Peter and quickly helped him remove his jeans and underpants. I looked up for a moment and saw Osamu watching me. I smiled at him and patted the vacant place on the sofa. Soon I was sucking and stroking their two splendidly erect cocks in turn, but I wanted more than that: the tickle deep in my arsehole was giving me no peace. I forced myself to wait a little longer, and gave Osamu's cock plenty of lubrication. Then I emptied my mouth, and held carefully in my fingers the beautiful rod of flesh which alone could give me the relief I longed for. "Please fuck my arse. Oh, _please_!" I said to Osamu in the high, little-girl voice appropriate for a Japanese girl asking a favour from a Japanese man. "And Peter, please come in my mouth. Don't pull out or anything: I want to enjoy every drop of it." Osamu swaggered round to kneel behind me, and soon I felt his thick cock, lubricated with my saliva, slowly penetrating my anus. Oh, how good it felt as it pushed its way mercilessly up inside me, giving peace - for a little while - to the tight tube so over-stimulated by the previous evening's use. "Oh, wonderful! Oh, _fantastic_!" I said, still in my little-girl voice, preening his sexuality so that he could pleasure mine all the more. "Deeper, please - oh, deeper! Oh, you're so _good_!" Then I turned back to Peter, sucking and licking him and tickling his heavy balls with the tips of my long nails. He was already groaning with lust and begging me not to stop, yet not to force him to come too quickly. Osamu was now deep inside my arse, pulling out a little and slamming back in, while I pushed ecstatically against his crotch and gripped his beautiful length as tightly as I could. At last we climaxed together, or as nearly together as made no difference. Peter's creamy cum burst into my mouth and throat just as I felt Osamu's cock thicken as his sperm forced its way up my tight passage. I held Peter's erection with my fingers as I opened my mouth to show him how full it was, swallowed some of it down, then returned to sucking the final drops from him. At the other end of me Osamu began to lose his erection and slip out of me. Peter thanked me tenderly, while Osamu slouched off without a word and wiped himself on tissues from a box on a side-table. "Don't worry about him," said Peter. "He never says much. But I thought you were wonderful." "I'm not worrying," I said. "Japanese men are like that. _Gaijin_ are different." "Yes, but when you were so great ..." "Now you're the one who's worrying. It's natural. _Gaijin_ lovers treat me like a lady when they fuck me, and I love that. Osamu-san isn't a _gaijin_ so he treats me like a whore, and I love that too. But I must go and wash. I'm leaking. And perhaps you should too - you've got lipstick on your cock," I added with a giggle. "There's a bathroom on this floor. Let me show you." "I'll find it." It was the same as the one I had used upstairs, but not so well equipped. When I had finished washing, I put my head round the living-room door to say, "I'm just going upstairs to fix my make-up." "Fine. Do it nicely," Peter said. What an odd thing to say, I thought, as I ran up the stairs in my bare feet. Of course I would do it nicely! But it was worth knowing that he liked his girls well made-up. I took trouble over it, and once again scented myself. I hoped he liked that too. Downstairs, Peter was waiting for me in the living-room. He was dressed, and there was no sign of Osamu. I sat on the sofa again: I wasn't sure what else to do. "Let me help you put your shoes on," said Peter. He knelt before me again and took his time over fitting my feet into the high heels, stroking and kissing them gently as he did so and tying the thongs firmly round my ankles and legs. Once again I felt the surge of desire that comes from the teetering posture forced on a girl by her heels. "Do you like girls' shoes very much?" I asked. "Oh yes! And these are such beautiful shoes, and the heels are so delightfully high, and your feet are so small and pretty ... I could say I'm a foot fetishist, I love kissing girls' feet - but then there's no part of a girl I don't love kissing!" He was kneeling in front of me with his hands on my thighs, lightly holding them apart. He lowered his head and began to kiss my knees, gradually moving his mouth upwards along my thighs. His hands moved up too, till they were embracing my hips. He pulled me forward till my bottom was only just resting on the edge of the couch. His lips were now kissing the very tops of my thighs and his tongue began to explore the sensitive folds on either side of my crotch. He kissed my pussy hair, breathed deeply and looked up. "Lovely scent, Aya-san," he said. "I do like a girl to make her pussy smell sweet." "I'm glad ..." "Do you like the taste of cum?" "What a silly question! Of course I do!" "Well, I _adore_ the taste of pussy-juice. And it's my turn now ..." I let out a gasp of pleasure as he suddenly buried his mouth in my cunt and began to lick and kiss its lips, occasionally flicking his tongue upwards to tease my clit. I could tell at once he was an expert, and knew exactly how to pleasure a girl's pussy. Love-juice was beginning to pour from inside my cunt. He looked up a moment. "Oh, it's so beautiful, Aya-san! The best pussy-juice I ever tasted! And so much! You _are_ wonderful!" He drank again, then continued: "You know, I was here a lot last night. I fucked all your three holes, of course, like we all did ..." Another pause, another quick slurp from my dripping cunt. "... but then I just _had_ to suck you and fuck you here." "I'm so glad ..." I murmured. Now he was sucking me in earnest, my cunt was dripping copiously into his mouth, and I could feel my orgasm mounting. Well, why not? It was what we both wanted. I abandoned any attempt to spin it out and just let it come. My hands seized his head and forced his face into my crotch as if I wanted to stifle him. I raised my legs and dangled them over his shoulders, crossing them behind his head and spurring him on with the sharp tips of my heels. Muffled cries of happiness came from deep within me; and I joined them, coming long and loud. "Oh, that was good!" said Peter, when we had both finished. "I do love it when a girl imprisons me with her legs like that." "And spurs you on with her heels?" I asked coyly; then adding more seriously, "I _hope_ I didn't hurt you!" "No, that was especially nice. But mainly because I knew how pretty your shoes are and how high and pointed your heels! It was very stimulating to know that I was being spurred on by such lovely shoes and feet even if I couldn't see them. I'm sorry, that sounds a bit complicated. But I told you I was really a foot fetishist." "Well, I think that's a lovely thing to be. You can make love to my feet any time you like." "May I really?" he said, stretching out on the floor and starting to lick my heels. "But are you sure you wouldn't like me to make you come?" I asked anxiously. "You were _so_ good to me, and you didn't get much back ..." "Don't be silly! I had a wonderful time. Your beautiful pussy ... oh, let me kiss it again ..." "Come and sit up here," I said firmly. "Take your clothes off and let me lie on your lap." So we sprawled together naked over the big couch, each petting and stroking the other. "Tell me about yourself, Aya-san," said Peter. "How old are you?" "Eighteen. Nearly nineteen." "That's nice. And what do you do - when you're not being fucked at sex-parties, I mean?" "I'm an OL, an Office Lady. In the headquarters of an electronics company in Shinagawa." "Oh. Is that interesting?" "No. Not at all. There's very little work to do, and what there is isn't interesting." "So you just sit around looking pretty in the office uniform?" "That's right. There are three of us." "With a very short skirt?" "Yes, very _very_ short. The company insist on that. But I quite like it." "I'm sure you must look delightful." "Anyway, it pays the rent, and for food and clothes. I have a tiny apartment in Denenchofu. I don't suppose you know where that is?" "I know. It's on the Tokyu Line." "Well, yes. My parents both live in Morioka. It's the capital city of Iwate Prefecture. My father has a senior position in a big local company. I swore once I left I'd never go back there. It's the dullest place in Japan. There's nothing to do, and everyone goes to bed by nine." I caught him smiling at me. "Alone," I added. "So I have to have a job which makes it possible to stay in Tokyo. I was terribly lucky to get this one. The previous girl left in a hurry. Of course the company management proposed a whole list of OLs who had been with the firm a while and deserved a promotion. But our boss didn't want anyone middle-aged. He wanted someone young and pretty. My father pulled strings with an old college friend in the company and got me an interview. I suppose our boss fancied me. I got the job." "Does he still fancy you? What does he do to you?" "Oh, nothing much. Not in the office, anyway. He's too cautious. Just looks up my skirt when he gets the chance. I make sure he _does_ get a chance from time to time. As I say, I need the job. Otherwise, he just fondles me at office parties. You know, when everyone gets a bit drunk and what happens is supposed to be completely forgotten the next morning. Anyway, the one he really fancies is Masumi-chan. She's only just come. She's the youngest, and rather silly and naive, but extremely pretty. Shizue-san - she's the senior girl - and I try to look after her." "Hm'm. I'd like to meet Shizue and Masumi." I gave his cock a friendly stroking, then reached up and kissed him. "I guess you fantasise about having three pretty OLs all at once, do you? In their uniforms - to begin with at least? Most men do that." "You don't mind?" "Of course not! That's what OLs are for - the young and pretty ones at least - to be fantasised about. And then taken out on dates so the fantasy can become real. Anyway, you'd like Shizue-san. She's very beautiful and sophisticated, and goes to lots of parties." "Does she now? Perhaps I've met her ... had her, even." "Well, she goes mainly to a group of friends that give regular parties. There seem to be rules about what they do ... I don't know. But they must be exciting parties with lots of activity - she's always so tired the next morning! Masumi and I have to do her work for her. Of course Masumi idolises her. She keeps begging to be invited to one of these parties, but Shizue says she needs more experience." "Why don't you bring her along to one of our parties?" "I told you - she's extremely pretty. And very young and fresh. I don't want the competition! No, that's not fair. It's a good idea - I'm sure she'd love it. She's never been to a sex-party. I'm not sure she isn't even a virgin." "It's _so_ beautiful," said Peter, getting sentimental in a very _gaijin_ way, "when a girl comes to her first sex-party. Looking so pretty and excited. Perhaps not fully realising that it _is_ a sex-party, and then seeing the other girls going nude and fucking, and wanting so much to join in but not knowing if she's allowed to ..." "Yes, it would be a lovely way for a girl to lose her virginity. With everyone watching and cheering her on and congratulating her." "Oh, if you do bring her, may I be the first to have her?" asked Peter. "It would be nice to auction her or raffle her, don't you think? More fun for all of you, and _so_ wonderful for her." We were both getting sentimental now, planning a treat for a sweet young girl only one of us had ever seen. "Yes," he said, "we did that recently for a first-time beginner. She was just sixteen. An older friend brought her. We made her strip for us, she was very shy at first but became more and more confident as she came to feel how lovely it was to be nude and admired." "Yes, that's the way it always is, I think. I was shy the first time I went nude at a party. But then ... oh, you're making me all wet, just reminding me ..." "Let me suck you," he said urgently. "Don't waste it!" I scrambled into position and Peter buried his face in my crotch the way we both enjoyed so much. "That was lovely," I said with a deep sigh a few minutes later. "You do suck a girl well!" "It was more than lovely," he insisted. "It was heavenly. You make the most delicious pussy-juice I've ever tasted." We snuggled up together again on the couch. "Have you always liked girls' juice so much?" I asked a little shyly. "Well, to be honest, I didn't like it much at first," he said. "I did it first just to try. But the girl I was sucking adored what I did to her and kept begging me to do it to her again." "And you were a perfect gentleman," I said giggling. "Japanese girls are _so_ beautiful when they come. So whole-hearted ... so sincere. And they scream so nicely. So I kept trying, and then I found I loved it too. The taste ... it was like learning to like Japanese food. It takes a little while." "Oh ... can you eat sushi?" I asked, without thinking. "Aya-san ..." he said reprovingly. "I have been here more than a few days, you know." I blushed at my own stupidity, and changed the subject quickly. "Tell me more about your beginner. What happened when she was fully nude? At her first party, you were telling me about?" "Well, she stood on a little platform in just her high heels, and we blindfolded her, and the auction took place. We could all see how very proud she felt as she heard everyone bidding for her and wanting her so much; then off came her blindfold so she could see her new owner at last and was given to him to do whatever he liked with for the evening." "What happened to the money?" I asked. "Oh, we gave it to her and one of the older girls took her shopping and helped her choose some party clothes. You know, little microskirts, pretty topless dresses, sexy high heels like you wear. She didn't have any of that before. Now she's a regular at our parties and an adorable little fuck. Still only sixteen and _so_ enthusiastic!" I didn't think I wanted to hear any more about a lovely little sixteen-year-old fuck. I was still not quite nineteen and the new girls already seemed to be coming up so fast behind me. "You really like those naive little beginners?" I asked with a touch of superiority. "All right, I know what you mean," he replied. "I think really I prefer more sophisticated girls ... like you." That was more what I wanted to hear. "It's so nice to meet a girl at a party, both of you knowing at once that you are going to fuck, but summing each other up first, finding out what each other's preferences and skills are ... but, you know, there's something so sweet about a young beginner, so happy in her nudity, I just fondle her lightly, and at once she says, 'Yes, oh _yes_, please do it to me!' Lovely." Searching for something else to talk about, I said: "You wanted to know about my colleague Shizue. She goes to a special establishment ... she did tell me the name ... oh yes, the Paradise Club." "She's a member of the Paradise Club?" "Yes, I suppose she must be a member. She wouldn't tell me anything about it: she said it was a secret. What is it? Some kind of disco or night-club?" "But that's fantastic! She must be an amazing girl! Have you never heard of the Paradise Club?" "No. Tell me." "It's the most distinguished private sex-club in Tokyo. In Japan! It's incredibly difficult to become a member - or even get invited as a guest. Only the most beautiful girls and the sexiest men get to go there. And it's supposed to be a secret - if you are a member you don't tell anyone, unless you are sounding them out to see if they might be suitable." "What happens there?" "Well, I know only what I've heard. But all the girls are nude, of course, and available for absolutely any kind of sex - the kinkier the better, and amazingly beautiful." He smiled at me. "Just like you are now." It was a nice compliment so I smiled back, kissed him, and tickled his balls. "Thank you. I like the bit about being nude, and beautiful, and available - but I'm not so sure about the kinky sex." "Oh, come on ...!" "How do you get to be a member?" I asked, getting the conversation back onto safer ground. "Well, the men choose the girls, and the girls choose the men. Obviously there are tests. Girl candidates are fucked by as many men as want to try them out, and don't get in unless they fully satisfy them all. Men candidates are tested by a sub-committee of three girls." "How do they do that?" "Well, candidates have to promise never to reveal that they were being tested, and successful members are supposed to be discreet too, as I said. But I understand the man takes them out to some expensive, discreet restaurant with private rooms. The girls wear clothes, of course, but the sexiest and most provocative they can. After dinner the candidate has to show what he can do by taking each girl three times." "In each of her holes?" "Yes." "Ooh, lovely. But that's quite a challenge. For a mere man, I mean." As a girl who last night had achieved a personal best of fifty beautiful fucks I felt I could afford to be superior. "I think so. Lots of men fail. Even if they manage it, the girls report back to the others on their performance, and they may still be rejected. So I'm told." "You're making me feel as sexy as anything," I said. "Let's play a game. You're a candidate for this club, and I'm one of the girls testing you." "Right. Stand up and let me watch you walk about in those gorgeous heels. Remember I need all the stimulation I can get to pass the test." "You _are_ a foot-fetishist, aren't you?" "Yes. A very happy foot-fetishist. Especially looking at your feet and shoes." It was a good game. He came copiously in my cunt, pulling out at the last moment to spray his load over my tummy and breasts; then before he could lose his erection I took him in my mouth and brought him to a very satisfactory second burst of rich cum. Then, as men so often do, he begged off fucking me a third time while he recovered from his efforts. We lay in each other's arms while he waited for his erection to recover. He was certainly an attractive man: his cock was not the enormous rod a girl likes to feel forcing its way into her holes on special occasions, but a good enjoyable medium-sized one, used with skill and understanding. The sort of cock a girl could live very happily with. The rest of him was pretty good too. "Tell me more about yourself, Aya-chan," said Peter. "When did you first discover sex?" "Oh, at school. I was twelve. The usual thing. Just beginning to masturbate, and having giggly conversations with the other girls about whether they did too and if so how they did it. Walking with special friends with our arms round each other." "How sweet." "Kissing; occasional little feelings and strokings. When we were changing for gym class, comparing breasts, and then the one who had a little pubic hair showing it to the one who hadn't yet - very daring, leading to touching each other's pussies, rubbing pussies and breasts against each other, and ending in fits of giggles." "And your first boy - boys? Or was it with an older man?" "No, that came later. A group of girls - including me - were using the gym after school for sex sessions. Very innocent, of course; just getting nude together and discovering what lovely feelings we could have from stroking and petting each other. And some boys burst in. They didn't know we were there: it wasn't planned. But when they saw what we were doing, a few of the boldest got undressed and instructed us to stroke and pet them too. Which, being obedient Japanese girls, we did." "How charming. And did they fuck you?" "No, not really. It started with stroking their cocks. That was a wonderful discovery for me. I just loved the way cocks strengthened and hardened, and were then mine to do what I liked with. And of course the first time a boy came all over my hands was a tremendous moment. I didn't know what the liquid was, but I loved the smell and the taste. Of course that led to kissing their cocks and sucking them ... I was so proud when boys said I did it best and queued up for me to do it to them." "And when was your first real man?" "When I was fifteen. I believe that's against the law, but _I_ didn't mind! He was a _gaijin_. I like being fucked by _gaijin_: they're much more considerate ... anyway, he saw me coming down the road after school and watched me. I didn't mind, I wasn't afraid: boys had never done me any harm. Anyway, he was quite old. He reminded me of my father. The next day he was there again, and we smiled at each other. And the third day he spoke to me and asked me for a date." "And you said yes?" "Of course! He took me to a nice restaurant, and then he asked me if I'd ever been to a 'theme' hotel. Of course I hadn't, and he said it would be fun, so we went." "And was it fun?" "Yes! He rented a room with a Roman theme. Naturally I didn't know much about it, but he helped me dress up as a little Roman slave, and we pretended he'd just bought me at a slave-market and was teaching me how to please my new owner. I _loved_ it! I wore the sweetest little backless minidress - well, a sort of tunic, really - with nothing underneath, of course." "I wish I'd seen you," said Peter. I looked at him in surprise, and giggled. Here was a man enjoying an intimate conversation with a completely nude girl, and he suddenly thought he would like to see her in a dress. Well, a very sexy dress, but still ... men are so strange. I leant back in the big couch and put my hands behind my head, displaying myself in a pose men usually liked. I found I was enjoying myself. These men - Peter the _gaijin_ and Osamu - probably thought that by not letting me have any clothes they were controlling me. But I knew, as every experienced girl does, that if she is clever a naked girl can dominate the men wanting her. The deliciously nude stripper dancing and posing on her brightly lit stage controls the audience's desire, building up the erotic tension, bringing it down again, giving them intense pleasure by playing with their lust - until at last she, and they, can stand it no longer and she ecstatically receives the tribute of all those erections: _her_ erections, _her_ property to do with as she likes, because she has created them ... "So what did he do to you when you were his slave?" Peter was asking. "He had me three times that evening. It was lovely: my first time with an experienced man. The boys used to come just once, and very quickly. That was thrilling of course, but Kurt - that was his name - gave me much more." "It didn't bother you that he was so much older - that you were so young?" "Of course not! I said, he was like a father to me. Teaching me about a wonderful new world. So I was his little girl." "His Lolita." "That's right! And I understand what you mean, but every girl knows when she's ready for sex and it doesn't matter what age she is. After all, I started at twelve. Just stroking cocks and so on, like I said. Then I met Kurt." "How long did that last?" "Not very long. He suddenly disappeared. Much later I heard he had been deported from Japan. Some of his little girls were even younger than me. But he'd introduced me to some of his _gaijin_ friends, so I still had lots of lovely dates with plenty of fucking, and soon I started being invited to sex-parties. _That_ was a thrill!" "For them too, I expect." "And I started to be offered escort work. I do enjoy that. It isn't only the money. It's wearing lovely clothes, going to the beauty-parlour at someone else's expense, being taken to the best places and being admired. Men who can afford to pay for that are rich and powerful. I _adore_ being fucked by men like that!" "Have you done any film or modelling work?" "Nude photos, you mean? Sex videos?" "Yes." "Well, of course I've been photographed and filmed at parties - you know, like you did last night - and I think the results circulate on the net. That's nice. But never professionally." "You'd like to, wouldn't you?" "Yes - I think it would be fun." "Right." Peter stood up and held out both hands to me. "Come with me and I'll show you my studio." I followed him obediently out of the living-room and he opened a door fitted with a push-button lock. The room was completely dark with no natural light; but after he had pressed a whole bank of switches a series of professional spot-lights came on. There was a cleared area in the centre with a small platform, surrounded by some very expensive-looking cameras on tripods. On the far wall was an X-shaped structure reaching from floor to ceiling: there seemed to be chains dangling from the four corners of the X. I wondered what it was for.[24] Peter motioned me to the central posing area and picked up a camera. He looked at me critically as I stood there, and adjusted the lighting and reflective sheets. It felt stimulating to be bathed in light like that. "Take your belt off," he said, satisfied at last, "I'd like you completely nude for these shots. Except your lovely shoes, of course. Now try sitting on the edge of the platform - lean back - smile - look sexy - now stand up - I want a shot of those gorgeous legs and feet - now turn and look over your shoulder at me ..." It wasn't as difficult as I had expected. I knew the poses and gestures that made men wild to fuck me, and it was fun trying them out for Peter and his camera. After about half-an-hour he called a halt. I was feeling thoroughly aroused and hoped he was too and would take the opportunity of fucking me. But he was too professional. He went to one of the big closets along one side of the studio and hunted in a drawer. "Now I'd like you to wear something for me." I looked at him in mock astonishment. "You mean ... after I've spent the whole morning being nude for you, you now want me to put on some _clothes_?" He smiled at me. "Not too much," said. "Just this, to start with ..." He handed me what looked like a tangle of tiny straps in some golden material. I sorted it out and found it was a kind of bikini. Well, I don't know if that is really the name for it ... the upper part had narrow straps going over my shoulders and clipping together round my back as a bra does, but the front consisted only of more straps outlining my breasts while leaving them completely uncovered. The lower part had two straps descending from the waistband to my crotch, passing between my legs on either side of my pussy so as not to get in the way of anything I chose to put into it. The straps were made of a sort of glittering gold plasticised material,[25] which went nicely with my high heels; and the whole effect, as I looked at myself in one of the big mirrors, was charming. Glancing round as I adjusted and tightened the narrow straps I saw that Osamu had entered the studio and was holding a professional video camera. I bowed respectfully to him as I returned to my platform. He just grunted. Peter went to a CD player on a shelf and some raunchy disco-music began. He picked up his still camera and smiled at me encouragingly. I started to dance to the music. I flirted and flaunted; I touched and stroked myself lasciviously; I leant forward into the cameras smiling and pouting and offering myself. I enjoyed it enormously. The bikini-which-wasn't-a-bikini, the bra and panties which hid absolutely nothing, made me feel pretty and desirable. It had been at least an hour since Peter had last fucked me and I was more than ready for more. I didn't have to wait long. Osamu handed the video camera to Peter, pulled off his clothes and joined me. He fucked me in the standard form of a Japanese porn video: I've seen it hundreds of times and so I am sure have you. He began with vigorous finger fucking, reaching my pussy easily between the straps along my crotch; then gave me his cock to suck. After a few minutes of that I couldn't wait any longer and begged him to enter me. He let me impale myself on his shaft and ride him for a while, whimpering with pleasure; then took control. He entered me from behind while I squealed with happiness and begged for more; then turned me over and spread my legs wide Japanese-style. He pounded my cunt faster and faster, then at the last moment pulled out and directed the spurts of hot cum onto my breasts. I lay back with a look of bliss on my face, playing with the cum and licking it off my fingers. At last I thanked Osamu prettily for the lovely feeling he had given me, while he slouched off without a word. "That was very nice, Aya-san," said Peter, putting down the heavy camera with obvious relief. "Very nice indeed. Perhaps you'd better go and clean up now." I left the studio and took the stairs up to the bedroom floor. In the well-equipped bathroom I stripped off the "bikini" and my shoes, and gave myself a long shower, making the most of the sprays and their delightful masturbatory possibilities. Then at last I towelled myself dry, and used some damp tissues to clean the blobs of dried cum from my outfit. I decided to put it on again: it felt good, looked good - and however inadequate for ordinary purposes was the only item of clothing I had been allowed to have. When I returned to the living-room Peter and Osamu were running through the unedited video. Peter welcomed me politely: Osamu as usual said nothing. I thanked him again for the lovely fuck, but got nothing in return but one of his grunts. I gave up and turned to Peter. "Do you mind if I keep this?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the golden straps decorating me. "Of course you may! It looks really good on you. Please wear it at parties ... and on dates ..." "Thank you." "Do you dance at clubs?" "Well, yes ..." I said, wondering what sort of clubs he meant. "We ought to get you a slot as a go-go girl. You know, dancing alone for thirty minutes at a time up on a platform above the crowd. In that - er - dress you'd be a tremendous success. And everyone would want you when your stint was over." "That sounds lovely," I said, a little uncertainly. The two men watched the video and discussed technical editing questions. I lay back on the comfortable couch and dreamed about going to parties in my pretty new outfit. I could even wear it to work under my office uniform - no one would know except those whose hands sometimes wandered over me ... I imagined wearing it on a date, under a short, sexy, low-cut dress suggesting the pleasures we would share before the evening was over ... after we had eaten and chatted, my lover of the evening would perhaps suggest going to a "theme" hotel for an hour and I would coyly agree. Then when we were alone together we would hold each other and kiss; then I would begin by undressing him, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling down his trousers and helping him step out of them, giving a friendly stroke to the satisfying bulge straining his underpants. Then it would be my turn. I would turn my back so that he could ease the zipper down my dress. As the dress slid to the floor he would discover my provocative underwear, his hands eagerly exploring its possibilities. As I stood with my back to him, I would look around the room. He had apparently decided on a prison cell or dungeon theme: an odd choice for love-making but no doubt he had some delightful fantasy in mind. On the far wall I could see a huge X in red-painted metal like the one in Peter's studio ... my conscious mind didn't know what it was for; but something deep inside me knew, and shivered.[26] Suddenly the doorbell rang. "Why don't you see who that is, Aya?" he suggested casually. For a moment I hesitated, aware of my near-nudity. But it was obviously a challenge, and I like to accept challenges - especially sexual ones. I stood up and walked towards the front-door, trying to decide whether to pose sexily for whoever it was, or behave naturally as if answering the door like this was the obvious thing to do. I opened it before I could decide. Waiting outside were Bob, my treacherous date from last night, and a very beautiful young woman. "Hello, Aya-chan," said Bob. "How are you getting on?" "Very well, thank you," I said in as frosty a voice as I could manage, then turned to welcome his companion. "Aya-chan, I'd like to you meet Megumi Kato. Megumi, this is the girl I was telling you about." We bowed politely to each other and murmured the appropriate greeting. "You probably don't know Megumi, Aya-chan," Bob continued, "but I'm sure you know her company. She runs Marucho. They make adult videos." "But of course!" I said, too startled to be annoyed with him any longer or worry about posing on the doorstep. "I love your videos! They're really beautiful!" "Thank you," said Kato-san. "May we come in?" "Of course! I'm so sorry ..." Soon we were all seated in the drawing-room. Peter greeted Kato-san respectfully, and Osamu disappeared to make coffee. "I've known Megumi for quite a while," said Bob. "She was just starting her career as a porn star when we met. She was making some wonderfully sexy videos for Marucho." "But that's fantastic!" I said, really impressed. "Now she and her husband run the company," Bob continued. "Do you know anything about the porn industry, Aya-chan?" Kato-san asked. "No ... that is, I enjoy the videos - especially yours!" "That's nice of you." "No, I'm not just saying it. I know people think porn is more for men than for girls, and some of it is, you know, aggressive and rather nasty. But yours is different. The girls are _so_ beautiful, and they do such _lovely_ things - I've learned so much from watching them." "I'm very glad to hear that. Of course most of our customers are men. But we like to think that a couple could watch our movies to get into the right mood for sex. Or a girl could show them to her lover as a way of telling him what she wants him to do to her." "Especially the masochistic ones," put in Bob. "And you used to be one of those wonderful girls?" I asked, not realising till I had said it that it sounded a bit rude. But Kato-san didn't seem to mind. "Oh, yes. I still do take small parts sometimes. My husband likes me to keep in practice, and of course it's such fun. No girl who has once been fucked on camera ever wants to stop." I could only gaze at her, fascinated. "The Japanese industry is the second largest in the world," she went on. "The biggest is the American, of course." "I'm sure ours is better, even if it's not the biggest," I said loyally. "Well, perhaps it is," said Kato-san with a smile. "And we are beginning to make progress in the US market. We have some very good products, and a lot of American men are coming to prefer Japanese girls and their sincere and honest style of acting in sex-videos." "Not just American men who live in Japan," put in Bob. "And Mr Otani - my husband - is keen to build on this by making some really special movies targeted on the US. And that's what I want to tell you about. But first I want to see Peter's video." "What, the one he made of me?" "Of course." "Oh, but ... I'm a complete beginner ..." "So was I when I started!" Kato-san smiled at me encouragingly. She was very beautiful, I thought: self-confident, elegant, poised - everything I wanted to be. If being a porn actress made you like that ... Osamu came in with the coffee, fiddled with the video machine, and then squatted on the floor Japanese-style. Soon there I was on the screen, posing and showing off in my sweetly revealing costume. Then Osamu joined me. I flirted with him at first, pretending not to understand what he wanted of me, and then encouraging him to take full advantage of my pretty availability. Our sex scene had already been edited and I think it looked good - but I was terribly shy, watching Kato-san even more than the screen and hoping she was pleased. "Well done, Aya-chan," she said at last. "Was that really your first fuck on camera?" "Yes ... I mean, I've been video'd at parties and so on, but I've never done it in a studio before." "Were you video'd last night?" "Yes, she was," said Peter. "She was very good." "How did you get on?" Kato-san asked, still talking to me. "I had a lovely time. I was the only girl - I didn't know that was what my friends had planned, and I was a bit surprised at first. But I'd never been fucked so many times before. It was fantastic." "How many times?" "Well, I wasn't really counting ..." I said, not wanting to show off. "We were discussing it earlier," Peter interrupted again. "We think between us we had her about fifty times. And she was still ready for more." "My personal best ..." I said shyly. "Now that could be a title," said Kato-san, turning to Bob. "_Personal Best_ ..." "I like it," said Bob. "Let me tell you something about Mr Otani's next big project," said Kato-san, turning back to me. "Of course you know about _bukkake_ videos?" "Where the girl is surrounded by lots of men who take it in turns to come all over her face?" "That's right. Nice, but we can do better. We want to make a big budget _bukkake_-style production, except that the girl won't just take it over her face - she'll demand that they fuck her properly. Everywhere. Again and again." "That sounds much nicer," I said, since she seemed to expect me to say something. "You said girls like Marucho videos. I think you are right. And do you know why?" Fortunately she didn't wait for me to try to answer. "Because the actresses are so obviously enjoying themselves. We think - Mr Otani and I - that there is an enormous untapped female market in the US. So we want our new project to star a girl who gets fucked a lot - that will please the male customers - but is also in charge, knowing what she wants and making sure the men do it to her. Do you see?" "Yes, I think so ..." I said uncertainly. "We'd like her to become a heroine, a role-model, for American girls. Get away from all that feminist nonsense about porn-stars being only exploited sex-objects. And for that we need a rather special girl. Bob here helps me by looking out for talented new girls at all those parties he goes to. And when he told me about you and how wonderful you were last night, I just had to meet you." I could say nothing. I just sat there gazing at her with my mouth open. "Now, if you agree, this is what is going to happen. Peter will lend you some clothes and a coat so you can leave here - yes?" She turned authoritatively to Peter. He nodded. "And then Bob will bring you to the Marucho offices in Shibuya. Mr Otani will want to see you; he's in Tokyo for a few days, but he'll be off in California again on Monday which is why we have to move fast. Then I'll arrange for a screen-test." "Of course, you'll have to make some standard sex-videos first," said Bob. "That way the studio can establish you, build up a fan base. You can do that in your free time - no need to give up the office job yet. But then, if all goes well, you'll be off to America to film the big one." "To _America_?" "Yes, the film will be made in America. Most of the men you'll be fucking will be recruited there. We'll build up a story: you will be an innocent Japanese girl visiting America for the first time, very pretty and sweet, always charmingly dressed, enjoying all the sexual attention you get, and the climax will be a big party - perhaps for your birthday, how about that? - when all your favourite lovers are invited and they all fuck you. Or you fuck them. Lots and lots of times." "It sounds _fantastic_!" I said. "I'd like to call the movie _Personal Best_. Do you like that idea?" "Oh, yes! My Personal Best." I looked at Bob, and then at Peter and Osamu. "I must work hard on it. Last night was just the beginning," I said. FOOTNOTES [24] It may seem incredible, but I had reached the age of nineteen without ever experiencing the bliss of the whip. Most Japanese girls come to it quite early. Their masochism is triggered by being punished at school by teachers who know exactly what they are doing: enforcing discipline on unruly pubescent girls and at the same time stimulating their latent sensuality. But somehow it had never happened to me. Now of course I am addicted to the delights of masochism and love nothing better than to be helplessly bound, begging for mercy as my lovers send me to paradise with their agonising whips and canes. [25] Leather is classier and feels sexier against your skin, but is not so easy to clean properly after a sex session. [26] Yes, this is the same Ayako who was later part of a team specialising in a very sophisticated masochism show presented at very special clubs - as described in "The Show: A Dream of the Future", _Unfinished Affairs_, Chapter IV. What good progress she has made! - B W [Next in Part 12: Shizue: The Willing Slave] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams