I was minding my own business at the Battery in Manhattan one Friday morning in June, when a bus pulled up and emptied at least 100 Japanese tourists, all wearing white shorts and blue shirts with giant plastic credential holders around their necks. I stood and watched them. I went over what I had to do that day: nothing that couldn’t wait.
I decided to try and cut a pretty Jap girl from the herd and see what happened.
I figured I had one shot to get it right. I studied the crowd carefully. She couldn’t be too innocent or too young or she’d go scurrying away. If I picked one that had a friend close by, it was game over. If she was married or there with a boyfriend, game over. If she didn’t speak or understand at least a little English, game over. I picked my mark, and she was one of the prettiest, too. I guessed she was about 22, standing about 5’2” and barely over 100 pounds. She had a lovely face, slender, pale skin, long dark hair pulled into a pony tail, slender pale legs, small chest and narrow hips and nice tight ass that showed through the shorts. I watched as her eyes glazed over at the narrative about the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. She started surreptitiously looking at her phone. I eased my way into the crowd, trying to look casual. Fortunately she was near the back of the crowd. I managed to get within about two feet of her without calling attention to myself. I said, clearly but in a low voice, that this was a really crowded and boring place. She looked at me, then looked again, really looking the second time, and then smiled and gave a little bow. I said there were nicer parks close by but tourists never went there. She smiled again and nodded. And then the shopping, I said, tourists never knew the best shopping.
I had her at shopping.
It was like I had yanked an invisible chain. “Do you know?” she said. “Yes,” I said, nodding emphatically: “Can we go?”
She hesitated a moment, looked around, looked down at her dork-ass credentials, thought another minute, then smiled at me and said “okay!”
We started walking away from the crowd, side by side, toward the pathway that lead along Battery Park. I was going to show her the unspoiled part of Manhattan. She immediately started admiring the gardens and paths that were not beat down by tourists, trash and dog shit.
I told her my name. She said her name was Aki. I said “hajimemashite.” She was amazed I knew a little Japanese. Just enough to get in her pants, I hoped. Aki was from a suburb of Tokyo, I forgot where she said it was and I had never heard of it. Tokyo, basically. She said she came with somebody else, a s****r, then she said not really a s****r, but then I couldn’t really follow her as she explained the relationship. All I cared was, would her friend/s****r worry that she was gone. No, Aki said, because she sent a text. Great. I seemed to be in the clear. We walked and talked for an hour and a half. We sat on the grass on a pristine lawn and I watched as she kicked off her sandals and stretched out her body. She checked her phone. Aki’s friend and the group of tourists were now crowding the hell out of South Street Seaport, trying to get a boat tour. Her friend was bored. I asked her, was she bored too? No, she said, the park was lovely. Well, I said, at 14th Street we run out of park. Why not take an exit and walk over to SoHo and do some shopping?
“Oh, yes!” she said, clapping her hands. “Oh, one second please.” She pointed her phone at me and took a picture. She said she was sending it to her friend. She fiddled with her phone for a moment and then stood. I touched her for the first time, by the elbow, to help her stand. She didn’t pull away, but I didn’t press things just then.
We crossed the bridge over the West Side Highway, headed for SoHo. I asked her if she had a boyfriend back in Japan. She said no. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I said no. I told her she had to be careful in New York. Some people would appear friendly but they could be dangerous. She brushed her hand against mine and said she felt safe to meet me, so she didn’t worry.
We stopped off in TriBeCa where we had coffee and scones in a small, romantic place. In the close quarters, my hand brushed her bare knee several times. She didn’t seem to mind. A few blocks later and we were in SoHo. Her eyes popped out at the name brands and exclusive designers. She seemed to walk closer to me, speak with greater admiration with every boutique I took her to, as if I were personally responsible for them being there. Then we walked into a handbag store – the typical nightmare place in SoHo with only a dozen items in a huge loft space, with each item costing about the price of a decent used car. She let out a gasp of pure ecstasy as she saw the designer bags. I didn’t get it, but she apparently did. She tossed her canvas purse bag, sporting the logo of the tour company, at my feet, and held up one black leather bag, lifting it up the light as if it were the Holy Grail.
I watched her as the floor attendant showed her all the features, as she took in the smell and feel of it. I was bored of the damned bag already, but I got a kick out of watching her fondle it, rubbing it all over, wanting to possess it. I understood. I wanted to do the same thing to her. I waited until she started to put it reluctantly back on the shelf.
“Aki, let me buy this for you as a souvenir of New York,” I said, producing my card. Fuck it, I thought, I had cash in the bank that wasn’t going to anything special, and I had been building up credit for just this sort of opportunity.
Her eyes opened incredulously for a second, then she remembered her manners and started to refuse. I told her it was no big deal, that I insisted. I said that half a dozen more times. The attendant, smelling a sale, tried to help. At last, she conceded and began bowing and thanking me. As the staff – they had swollen to four – began wrapping the bag (which made no damned sense at all) in silk and then in a beautiful paper shopping bag, she slipped her arms around my left arm and clutched onto me. I looked at the sales receipt as I signed it: $3,750. "Holy shit, it is on!" I thought as I signed and handed the attendant a handful of bills as a tip.
She was still clutching my left arm in both of hers in that way only Asian girls can do and still keep pace. I held the bag for her in my right arm. Her long hair was brushing against my bicept, and it felt nice. She was starting to give me a hard-on. I told her she had to get out of her tourists outfit if she was going to fit into SoHo. I pointed to a small store that seemed to deal in little black dresses. At that moment she pointed across the street at a jeans boutique. We went in and I insisted that she try on a pair of jeans that showed off her ass and hips perfectly, though I was sad to see her legs vanish into the narrow, washed denim. She shed her tourist t-shirt and shorts for a pair of very hip jeans and a tailored t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up and somehow emphasizing her small perky tits. She had pulled her hair back tighter and was looking much more cosmopolitan, like she belonged here.
"One more store," I told her, "and then we get some lunch. Why not pick out something you can wear to dinner?” I took her back to the shop with the dresses and pointed her and the sales lady to the general direction. They conferred a while and then Aki vanished into one of the dressing rooms. After about 20 minutes the sales lady waved me over and then pointed me into a back room.
Aki was there, alone, in a large dressing room surrounded by mirrors. I saw her jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes and socks, and modest bra and pair of nylon panties shed in a corner. She looked amazing now in the little black dress, dark panty hose, with black leather heels. I took a second to catch my breath.
“Do you like it?” I asked, shutting the dressing room door behind us. There was a mirror on the door, too, so Akis and Mes were replicated around the room by the dozens, as if we were trapped inside the eyes of a fly.
“I love it!” Aki said, standing right in front of me.
“I want you to wear this tonight and go to dinner with me, okay?” I asked, my hands going up to her bare shoulders.
“Yes,” she whispered, tilting her chin.
I kissed her, and she responded. Ages went by. After a while, my hands were running up and down her body, feeling her inside the dress, wanting to rip it off of her, aware of my swollen hard-on that would make it impossible for me to walk away with any dignity.
“Aki,” I gasped, as our lips opened wider and I squeezed her tiny breast through the fabric of the dress. I rolled the dress down, revealing hard little nipples. I plucked and pinched them as I leaned down to kiss them. She threw back her head and let out a soft sigh. I sucked her right nipple as I guided her hand to my cock. No way we had the time here that I needed for this, and yet I wanted her right then. Aki seemed to sense it, and God knows they were probably watching us from either a secret mirror or security camera. The floor was perfectly clean, highly polished wood. She slid down until her knees rested against it and then unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. I resisted the urge to help her, and push the back of her head onto my cock. She did fine by herself. She soon had my rigid cock between her fingers, lifting it to her lips, tasting it, then slipping it between her lips, into her warm and willing mouth.
Whatever her experience, she had sucked cock before, without a doubt. Her lips, tongue and mouth danced over me as her hair came undone, falling all around me. I tried to make the few moments last an eternity, but it was over too fast. I was too horny, the girl was too gorgeous, and she was just too fucking good. She was sucking for a fast finish, too, and as I said, she knew what she was doing. Soon I was bucking my hips, fucking my face and holding back a desperate groan as I shot my load into her mouth. Aki took it all gamely, licking and sucking to the last, then smiled, put a delicate hand over her mouth as she ran to her canvas bag and pulled out a wipe and ejected a long stream of cum into it. She shooed me out of the room, and in under five minutes the dress, heels, and whatever was under it, had been packed into another shopping bag, and they were handing me the bill. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face as I paid.
We jumped into a cab, headed Uptown for lunch. I recommended an expensive and very good seafood place in Union Square that happened to be very close to my apartment. I was playing with her ass idly, now back in the tight designer jeans, as she texted her friend again. I asked her what was up, but she just laughed. Well, it was going alright, no reason to act controlling!
At lunch, I ordered a bottle of wine to complement the meal. I knew the old tale about Asian girls and alcohol to be absolutely true. I plied Aki with more and more wine throughout the meal. I asked her about old boyfriends. She had really only had one steady boyfriend, she said, and his “erection was not strong.” I thought that meant he couldn’t keep it up for long. With a piece of ass like Aki, I couldn’t really blame him. She said she had had one or two other boyfriends, none serious, and a couple of other dates that went badly, one a half consensual fuck in an alleyway at the end of a date, and she seemed to feel somehow guilty for this. I did my best to make her understand she wasn’t at fault for anything that had happened, and any man who takes advantage of a woman like that should be castrated. She got increasingly tipsy during the meal, which was what I had hoped for. I asked her if she had ever dated a white guy. She said she hadn’t. She admitted that the size of my swollen seven-inch gaijin cock had been a little surprising. I asked her whether it was a good surprise. She laughed and gave an enigmatic smile. I asked her if she liked sucking cock. I knew it was a rude question but I had had almost a full bottle of wine and a half a day of hot Japanese pussy clouding my mind by then. She nodded and looked down at the table. I wondered what was going on behind those eyes. Was she worried it would be too big for her tight little Japanese pussy? I forgot to mention earlier that when she was exploring the wonders of that handbag in the store, I could smell one thing that overpowered the strong smell of the leather: wet pussy.
After I paid for lunch, and the two bottles of wine, I suggested we go to my apartment for a rest before we saw some more of the city and had dinner.
We barely shut the door to my apartment before I had her pressed against it, her arms over her head, shirt and bra off, her jeans pulled open and halfway down her hips, rubbing my hard cock against her flat stomach as we kissed and explored each other with our tongues.
I picked her up and carried her into my bedroom, throwing her on the bed, pulling off her shoes and socks, then the jeans. I took time to linger over her feet and legs, before I pulled her panties over their curves and tossed them on the floor. I spread her legs and poked the tip of my index finger inside her, rubbing along the g-spot as I kissed the backs of her thighs. She was soon moaning and moving in rhythm as I fingered her. I withdrew the finger and tasted the dew from deep within her. I smiled at her as I tasted her and then looked down at her tight little slit, the cunny lips showing wet but barely a discernible opening, even with her legs spread wide. At the very bottom of the slit I could see the slightest hint of a pearl shaped pink opening. Topping the tight little slit was an inviting fleshy little clitty hood. Above that was a light wisp of pubic hair, naturally almost hairless. Her legs felt very smooth, but not shaved. My tongue darted out and probed at the clitty outcropping, fingers stroking the tight pink flesh of her pussy. She reacted immediately, groaning and crying out and opening her legs wider. Soon I was fingering and licking her, and had her spread wide with my tongue gliding up and down her slit. I squeezed my tongue inside the tight little muscles of her cunny and up inside her, turning my body and angling my tongue upward at the g-spot, thrusting it deep inside her and thrilling to feel her start moaning loudly – thank God no one was home next door during the day – as I went deeper and deeper inside her, almost smothering myself as I pressed my face as far up against her as possible so as to get every last bit of my tongue up into her. Aki grabbed my hair and screamed as she started to cum under me. I felt her little cunny quiver in pleasure, and I knew I had repaid her for the favor in the SoHo dressing room.
I slid up next to her, toying with her naked body, rubbing my hard cock on her leg, stroking her nipples as her chest rose and fell, still breathing heavily from climax.
I knew Japanese rarely fucked without a condom. Fortunately I had at least one, somewhere. I got it in a bathroom in a club. It would have to do. I found it in my nightstand drawer and handed it to her. She opened the packet and unrolled it over my cock, looking lazily at it and stroking it once or twice before rolling it down. If she was nervous about being penetrated by it, she didn’t show it.
I opened her legs and lay on top of her, guiding the tip of my cock between her legs. It was so tight nothing came easy, but she was also very wet, and with time I was halfway inside her, and she was already aroused a second time, wriggling underneath me and moving around so that I could enter her better. The feel of her was incredible. She began to sigh and moan again, not as loud this time, but steadily as I found my way almost fully inside her and began fucking her. She wrapped her legs around my back and curled her toes, as if trying to push me in further using the backs of her heels. I bit and sucked at her nipples and pinched at her ass, ran my hands over her perfect legs and face, looking into her eyes. I couldn’t resist asking: “Is this erection strong?” as I pulled out and thrust into her hard. “Oh yes” she said with a laugh. Soon after she came again and I had to pace myself not to lose it at that moment. I held on for a time longer, all the time wanting to lose myself in her and fuck her with reckless abandon. I recovered after a time and we began to fuck harder and harder. I had forgotten to turn the air conditioning on in the apartment. I was dripping gaijin sweat all over her perfect little Jap body. I wondered if she minded. She didn’t seem to sweat at all, except her wet mouth and pussy which were perfect for love and sex. We built a steady, desperate fucking rhythm as the bedroom got hotter and hotter. My cock was almost numb from wanting her and from fucking her so hard. It was the condom, I suspected. I wondered what she felt like without the barrier? I looked at the nightstand clock. It was almost 2:30 in the afternoon. I rolled her over onto her stomach, pushing her knees up under her stomach, rolling the condom off and tossing it onto her bare back. I looked at her perfect ass and spread pussy, the backs of her legs, and stroked my cock. In under 30 seconds I was shooting a new load of cum onto her ass and back as she gave an encouraging laugh-sigh.
I slid around to her front and held her for a moment. “Get a shower,” I said. “We’ll go check out Central Park before dinner. After dinner we’ll go to a club, okay?”
Aki had a mild voyeur fetish, I learned at dinner. It took the car ride there and most of dinner to get that out of her, but she had a fear – and also half a fantasy – of being seen naked against her will. I nodded as if it were unremarkable and then poured more wine. She had fortunately not overdone the wine at lunch, and that made me wonder. The average under/over for an Asian girl was two glasses. She had had at least four at lunch and was ready for more. Aki had showered after we made love and put on the black dress, stockings and heels in the privacy of my bathroom. When she emerged, with her hair now fully swept back, she was breath-taking. She had the new handbag on her arm, which was a little mod. for the dress, but it did hint at quality. She received and fired off a few texts to her friend. They were all in Japanese, so I couldn’t guess what about.
We enjoyed dinner, and I enjoyed making her laugh. After we ate, already tipsy, we took a cab to the West Side, to a club I knew well. I had been carefully asking about what club experience she expected and was used to. My take on it was that she didn’t want anything actually dangerous, but that it should be an adventure. I knew this was the club.
It had the usual line outside. I was able to get in by a side entrance, after showing Aki the line, by a tip to a guy I knew who was at the door. Inside it was a typical club. I got a beer and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea for Aki. It was loud as hell. I felt 2,000 male eyes on her body in the black dress as I led her to the floor and we danced with drinks in hand. It wasn’t my thing, but I knew it was leading up to something. The loud trance music and a few mixed drinks later, we were still dancing, Aki leaning on me more and more, letting my hands go where they would. The front of the dress was slipping. I told her that and she made a surprised noise to see one nipple showing over the top. Her motor skills were not at that time able to allow her to tuck it back in. I reached up to rub the tip. “Is anyone watching?” she asked me in slurred and broken English? “Yes, at least two guys are watching,” I said. “Oh,” she said, looking down at the dance floor.
“Maybe we should go to another room?” I suggested, helping her with her dress.
“Yes, another room,” she agreed.
Little did she know.
I guided her to the stairway in the corner, up two flights of stairs, to a smaller -- but still enormous -- room, which had once been a large kitchen. The three giant food preparation tables had been bolted to the floor and were still there. The same type of techno music and flashing lights prevailed there, but there were far fewer people. It was 12:45 a.m., still early. Some were perched on corners of the table. There was another bar in the corner. I got us each another mixed drink – this was a novelty where you had to blow the jello shot into the other person’s mouth, and I was told it was pretty potent. Aki wrapped her small lips around the phallus shaped plastic aperture, and it made me instantly remember her lips around my cock earlier that morning. I was already horny after dancing close against her and playing with her bare breast in public, but this sent me over the edge. I blew the jello shot into her mouth and down her throat. She took it well, smiling and nodding that it was okay. The shit was pretty strong for a regular sized American, so I had a feeling it would take its toll on a 100-pound Japanese girl. Then it was her turn. Aki leaned forward and blew the shot into my mouth. I tasted grain alcohol as it slid down to my stomach, and I knew it was probably strong enough that I would be wasted if I had one more.
We had two more.
The clock on my phone was blurry by then, 2:36 a.m. We were sitting on the table listening to the music. More people had come in, perhaps 20 people to each of the three giant tables, maybe another dozen at the bar. Only couples in this room. That was the deal. I was sipping a beer, and Aki was on my lap, her head on my shoulder, rotating slowly to the music, her hand on my cock, where I had guided it, my hand on her thigh, and her dress was pushed far up as she sat on the table, feet dangling a good two feet from the floor.
At 3 a.m. the flashing lights slowly came to a stop and the ceiling lights gently pulsed a course from blue to red to green and back to blue, but the same loud music persisted. At 3 a.m., by custom, it was go time, and the DJ, practically hidden in the far corner of the room, suggested as much, though he didn’t come right out and say it, mind you, but if you were in the room, you knew what he was saying anyway.
A few couples began right away, crawling up onto the table, one lying on top or straddling the other, shedding clothes. Aki glanced around, trying to work out what was happening. To our left a man had stripped naked, and his date was climbing up onto the table, her dress half off, kissing his bare chest. I gently touched the arm of the girl on our right: She was a Puerto Rican girl, leaning halfway up against the table, her top pushed down to her waist showing full double-D tits; her beau, a young Puerto Rican guy, was rubbing his cock along the tops of them.
“Excuse me,” I shouted at her politely over the music. “Would you mind if your boyfriend stripped my date.” She started to reflexively cover up her breasts, but then she reconsidered and smiled, looking at d***k Aki. “Shit, he’d like that!”
She repeated my request to her date, a very handsome guy, as I slid Aki to the ground and propped her up. He took his time with his hands over Aki’s body, trying to find the zipper to the dress, and he gratuitously felt her up as he stripped off the dress, which slid to the floor around her feet, leaving her in heels, black lace panties, and no bra. Her tiny breasts were emphasized in contrast to our friend’s date. Meanwhile, she was observing the hard-on I was sporting and tested it like the plank of a diving board with one finger, pushing on it through my pants. I thanked him – and her – and they went back to each other. I eased Aki back against the table and then up onto it, where
I lay her down next to the Puerto Rican guy, whose girl had her skirt up to her waist to meet her top and was preparing to ride him only a foot away. A lesbian couple at the bar offered to help me with Aki’s lovely lace panties. I thanked them for their help as they stripped her bare and removed her heels, too. She now lay naked on the cold metal table, barely sensible.
“Aki,” I said, “we’re safe here. Everybody is making love. Do you want to make love?” She nodded and smiled.
I borrowed a spare condom from a homosexual couple at the bar. It was a cool club that way. I came back to Aki, now spread-eagled, inches on each side from two other couples who were fucking. I stripped and rolled the condom over my cock and entered here again. Again, she was tight and it took a long while to begin fucking steadily, but she turned her head to the side and began moaning. Her lips were inches from the lips of the Puerto Rican guy as he turned to look at her, they stared into each others’ eyes as his hands squeezed his date’s huge tits. As Aki began to come he was overcome and reached with one hand for her left cheek, pulling her to him; their lips came together and he kissed her passionately. Aki didn’t know him from me, or anybody else by then. She kissed him back through her moans as her cunny clenched on my cock. I looked over at his lady, riding him, and we smiled and shrugged. To be sporting, we leaned across and completed the circle, sharing a deep kiss.
I flipped Aki over on her back and entered her pussy from behind, pushing her up onto the table, further and further to the center as I humped her. The d***ker I get, I can always fuck longer and longer. I made a spectacle of us now as some of the others gathered to watch me give it to Aki, pushing her naked body across the table as I thrust in and out of her, making her moan. I lost track of her orgasms. Again, I knew I couldn’t come with the condom. I pulled out and put my hand on Aki’s shoulder, turning her around. Unrolling the condom and dropping it to the table, I raised my cock to her lips, and she began to suck it. Her d***kenness hadn’t muted her talents as she immediately began to suck amazing cock. I remembered our first time, in the morning, when she spat my cum into a sanitary wipe – after I had spent $5,000 on her. She didn’t swallow, that was clear. So as my orgasm came roaring up to me, I pulled back and, to the approval of the watching crown, shot my load full into her face, soaking her hair, lips, chin, nose and even half-open eyes.
I remember the lesbians helping Aki get cleaned up as I asked someone to get us a car. I don’t remember the car ride back or how we got in bed. The next thing I remembered was waking up behind Aki, inside her, without a condom, and it was 5:30 in the morning. I pulled out in time and apologized to her. She was distant. I tried to ask her how much she remembered of the night before. I wasn’t sure how much I remembered either. I excused myself to the bathroom where I showered and jacked off. I would take the poor girl to breakfast and then find her friend and her hotel.
Seconds after I jerked my cock to climax, the door opened and Aki came in, stark naked, waiting for her turn at the shower: “Today can we visit Metropolitan Museum?” she asked.
She either didn’t remember anything or was taking it well, I decided. I poured myself some coffee and looked at the clock as I heard Aki turn on the shower. 10:30 a.m. What the fuck got into me last night taking a nice Japanese tourist to a place like that? I’d be lucky if she didn’t press charges. I dutifully got online and checked the museum times, waiting for Aki.
After half an hour she came out of the bathroom with her hair still wet and brushed out straight, a towel around her. She lay down on the bed and stretched out her legs, then her arms, letting the towel drop away.
I didn’t know what to say or think. In an instant I was on my feet, over to her, kissing her and feeling her body. In another two minutes I was naked and on top of her, rubbing my cock between her wet and waiting pussy. “Shit!” I said, “no condom.” She rolled over and went to her canvas bag. I watched her slender and tight ass as she bent over looking in it. She came back with a purple package with Japanese writing, obviously a condom. I unrolled it and fucked her for the next hour.
By 12:15 p.m. we were leaving for the museum. Aki asked: “Is it some problem if my friend come to see the Met too? She is bored in the tour.” This was an unexpected development, but my hands were tied. After the last 24 hours with Aki, I really couldn’t refuse her anything, though I felt like her friend would be a drag on the rest of the weekend, which was still young.
So I said: “Of course not. I’d love to show her around.”
TO BE CONTINUED . . .