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Subject: Mariko in the Evening (Sachi Mizuno f/m/f 1/1)
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This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
from Sachi Mizuno: PASSION IN TOKYO
Copyright (c) 1996 Sachi Mizuno
All Rights Reserved
Published by Spectrum Press Inc.
ISBN 1-57138-346-8
<specpress@earthlink.net>
Mariko in the Evening
*Jubun*, Mariko thought. It cannot go on.
She spoke out loud, muttering the same words into the night
air. It was a warm evening, quiet but for the faraway sounds of
traffic, trucks headed to the center of Tokyo, and the occasional
bark of a nervous dog in the alley that ran along the back of the
apartment block.
Mariko was annoyed at the sound of her own voice breaking
the stillness. Seated on the balcony of the small apartment she
shared with her husband, she wondered if Kenji was still
sleeping. They had been married five years, and for the past year
they had been living in this small flat in the Magome district on
the outskirts of the city. Kenji was a decent husband, but Mariko
thought there were too many evenings when she wanted physical
affection and Kenji either ignored her or went to sleep. When
they did manage to get together, it seemed to Mariko their
lovemaking was routine and too brief, like one of those tasteless
meals in an American-style fast food shop, nothing like what they
had experienced at the beginning of their marriage. Was Kenji
tired of her? Mariko thought maybe it was true. The *kentaiki* --
the phase when married couples became bored with each other --
was supposed to occur after seven years, but she thought in their
case it may have occurred sooner. She felt sad and bitter. The
situation seemed hopeless, with no way to get Kenji to understand
her disappointment. Whenever she would try to talk to him about
it, he would find some reason to change the subject.
I'm wilting, Mariko thought, wilting like a drying cherry
blossom. She was almost twenty-eight, and Kenji was the only man
she had known during the five years of their marriage. Before her
marriage, she had had her chances with other men. She was
attractive and men always showed an interest in her. She had
shapely legs, a slender body, and firm round breasts. Everyone
said she looked good in a bikini. Her dark hair framed a face
pretty enough to draw a second glance on the street, and her
women friends often told her they envied her. But at the moment
she had a thoroughly wet *momo* and a sexually boring husband
fast asleep with a belly full of beer.
But I still love him, she thought. Kenji was hopeless as a
lover, but he could be kind and generous when he was in a happy
mood.
The stars seemed to laugh from out of the black sky. Mariko
felt secure in the darkness, although the balcony of the
adjoining apartment was only a few feet away. A short trellis
separated the two large balconies, and sometimes she would see
Mrs. Ohira watering a flowerbox or cleaning the stone floor. The
Ohiras were a little older than Mariko and Kenji. They had moved
into the building only recently and the two couples had not had
much contact yet. Mariko thought the man was a teacher. His wife
also worked somewhere, but Mariko did not know her occupation.
They seemed like a happy couple, which made Mariko envy them.
After glancing once more at the Ohira balcony to make sure
it was unoccupied, Mariko unbuttoned her blouse and slipped her
hand inside to tease one of her nipples. She had walked around
all evening without a bra, wearing a thin blouse, her breasts
swaying seductively, but Kenji had hardly noticed. Now the touch
of her fingers on her nipple sent a shiver of pleasure straight
down to her belly. With a sigh, she slipped her free hand under
her skirt and she explored the terrain inside her panties. As she
expected, she found her slit sopping wet, the slippery labia warm
and throbbing.
When she had been a girl, her friends had often teased her
because she had been too modest to parade naked in the gymnasium
locker room. They ought to see me now, she thought with a blush.
At this moment she was definitely not a picture of maidenly
modesty. More like a wanton soap-girl, she thought. But she
doubted any soap-girl had to sit in the dark like this.
She spread her juices up and down her crack, her fingertips
slowly stroking the shaft of her clitoris. She never liked to
rush the finger play. She wanted the pleasure, but she thought it
stupid to be so wet and not be with her husband. Kenji, after
all, was sufficiently endowed to please a woman. When he was
aroused, his impatient penis dripping juice on the sheets, her
excitement was always intense. The image of his organ brought a
moan to her lips, and her fingers stroked her clitoris more
rapidly. Suddenly she stopped -- she was too close. It was always
better to build it -- to climb the mountain of delight slowly.
She pulled her hand away and slipped it inside her blouse to wet
her nipples with her juice. She fingered the tips, pulling them,
tugging them until they were extended to a maximum. She suddenly
thought of Mr. Tanaka, the manager of the department store where
she worked behind a cosmetics counter. Mr. Tanaka walked by a
hundred times a day, and each time he made certain to stare at
her breasts as he passed her. She enjoyed the attention, but the
way he stared at her always made her blush. What would she do if
one day he asked her to have coffee with him? Probably nothing.
She liked younger men. She liked strong bodies and hard cocks.
Athletes were the best. She remembered a young weight-lifter she
had seen on television. The way his cock and balls had deformed
his briefs had made her quiver.
She was about to move her hand back to her sex, when she
heard a noise. It was the cry of a woman, a woman moaning. The
cry came from the flat at her right, the Ohira apartment. Mariko
caught her breath at the sound of another cry. She knew what it
was; she was certain it was the sound of a woman in the heat of
sexual pleasure. She felt guilty at her invasion of the privacy
of her neighbors. But at the same time she bit her lip with
excitement, her heart beating rapidly. The Ohira flat was in fact
only a few feet away. She could see a light, a crack where the
door had been slid to the side a bit to allow some air into the
apartment. Or perhaps the door never closed properly. These were
old apartments, and they needed repair in places. Would it be
possible to see anything? Mariko's excitement and curiosity were
more than she could bear. Leaving her chair, she stepped
carefully over the low trellis and approached the door on the
balcony of the Ohira flat.
The crack was just wide enough to make it possible to see
into the lighted room. Mrs. Ohira, wearing a cotton robe pulled
up to her waist, lay on her back on the edge of the futon with
her knees in the air and Mr. Ohira's head between her thighs.
Mariko stifled a gasp. She could see everything. The woman's
robe was bunched at her waist, and the man had his mouth on her
sex. The woman's hands were holding his head.
The woman moaned. "*Hai*, do that again!"
Mariko did not have to see Mr. Ohira's face. She could
imagine his tongue tickling his wife's clitoris, lapping at the
lips of her sex, dipping into the wet opening. The woman writhed
on the bed, moaning, her hands gripping her husband's head.
The knot of excitement in Mariko's chest brought her close
to fainting. She slipped her hand beneath her skirt and cupped it
over her sex. She had never witnessed anything like this, and it
was more exciting than she had ever imagined. Kenji sucked her
occasionally, but he never seemed to enjoy it. As much as she
liked it, she was always too embarrassed to ask him to do it.
But as she watched the Ohiras engage in this act, it seemed
so natural for a man to lick a woman there. The fact that they
were still wearing clothes made the scene even more exciting.
Truly, it reminded her of one of those erotic Edo paintings.
Mariko guessed the Ohiras did this often, and she was envious.
She could see more now. Mrs. Ohira had moved her feet
further apart so that her legs were spread as wide as possible.
When Mr. Ohira raised his face, Mariko could see his wife's patch
of sex hair and the glistening red groove of her sex. Even at
this distance, it was obvious that Mrs. Ohira's cunt was lush,
ripe, dripping its wetness on a towel placed under her buttocks
to protect the bed.
Mr. Ohira passed his hands over his wife's hips to cup and
squeeze the globes of her buttocks. Mrs. Ohira pulled a pillow
beneath her head and she peered down at his face.
"Go on, do it," she said.
Mr. Ohira muttered. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes! You promised!" Using both hands, she held her labia
apart, stretching out the folds, showing him the meat of her pink
and red sex.
Mariko quivered at the lewdness of the woman's behavior. She
had more than once wanted to open herself like that to Kenji, pry
herself open and show him the essence of her femininity, the
humid cavern of her sex. She was always afraid Kenji would be
shocked at her immodesty.
Mr. Ohira lowered his head and began a slow and deliberate
lapping of his wife's slit. She groaned with each stroke of her
husband's tongue, and Mariko wondered how long the woman would
last before having an orgasm. Mariko expected to come when the
woman did. She now had three fingers massaging her sex, her
pelvis moving in rhythm with Mrs. Ohira's groans.
Inside the room, Mrs. Ohira moved her hands to the backs of
her knees and pulled back her thighs to completely expose her
crotch. Her husband gave up licking and rooted his face in the
crack. His tongue probed and flapped inside her cunt as his nose
rubbed her clitoris. In a few moments, Mrs. Ohira bucked her hips
and cried out in the throes of her orgasm.
Mariko gasped her own release, her juices flowing through
her fingers.
When she opened her eyes again, Mariko saw Mr. Ohira wiping
his face with a towel. He smirked down at his wife from where he
knelt beside her.
"Was it good?"
Mrs. Ohira sighed. "You know how much I like it." She sat up
on the futon and pulled her robe down to cover her knees.
Mariko was amused by this act of modesty. In public, Mrs.
Ohira seemed like such a demure creature, the perfect little
modest housewife. It was difficult to imagine Mrs. Ohira ordering
her husband to suck her, but that was exactly what Mariko had
just witnessed.
Mrs. Ohira was now untying the sash of her husband's robe,
and Mariko watched breathlessly as Mrs. Ohira spread the *yukata*
apart to reveal the lower half of Mr. Ohira's body. His penis
looked huge, a long thick cock above heavy balls nesting in a
patch of dark hair.
Mariko shuddered. The sight of the man's superb weapon made
her heart race. The shaft was dark, with prominent veins, the
tight skin of the fat knob showing a purplish hue. His large
testicles looked bloated.
I'm acting crazy, Mariko thought. Was it reasonable to have
such a strong response to the sight of a man's organ? But she did
find it exciting. She and Kenji never looked at each other any
more. She could hardly remember the last time they had done
anything in a lighted room.
Mrs. Ohira smiled at the evidence of her husband's arousal.
"The twig is now a mighty branch," she said with a smile.
He shuffled forward, and his wife extended her tongue to lap
at the mushroom-shaped purplish crown. Then she slid her mouth
along the shaft to the base of the cock, and she licked the
underside of the shaft upward to the rim of the knob.
Mariko's juices were flowing again. At the moment she would
have given anything to change places with the woman. Her mouth
watered for the swollen penis.
Turning her head, Mrs. Ohira caught the shaft of her
husband's organ between her teeth, teasing the sheath of skin up
and down the cylinder, moving to the swollen tip and finally
opening her mouth to engulf it.
He closed his eyes and uttered a deep grunt of pleasure...
------------------------------
End Extract
This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
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