Copyright, 2007 by Stephen Scott. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives, to archive and display this work. All other uses are expressly forbidden unless explicit arrangement has been made with the author. This work may not be reproduced, posted, stored electronically, or archived, except for personal, non-public use, without the express written permission of the author.
Adult Youth--Fourth of July Fireworks, The Pool Cleaner's New Gig, The Chicken Run (3 parts), The Boy on the Table , High Tide and Timmy at the Truck-Stop
Authoritarian--Number Twelve, His Private Stockade, Hustling a Hustler, All I Want for Christmas and Bicycle Butt
Beginnings--The Boy in the Alley, Playground Games, In Camera and Itching
Encounters--The Bellhop and the Movie Star and Straight Boy Cody for Cash
Incest--Stress Relief and Brother's Bad Report Card
Science Fiction or Fantasy--Lije Bailey's Perfect Love (Parts 1 and 2)
Celebrity--Mr. Smallweed and the Crossing-Sweeper
Young Friends--After the Fireworks, To Johnny L. with Love and Timmy and the Eagle Scouts
If you enjoy this story or any of my other stories, please drop me a line at Joe_Gillis_2000@yahoo.com (A No-Prize if you recognize that name!)
And if you'd like to keep up with my stories as I post them, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NiftyStoriesAlert/
You can also read some true encounters on my blog: http://www.livejournal.com/users/joegillis96/
Also some remembrances of boys I loved when I was young on my personal site: http://ncplaywright.mysite.com
(Look under "Biography")
This story is a work of ignorant fiction, in the sense that its author is only vaguely acquainted with the historical facts of Japanese sexuality and the operations of erotic bathhouses of the Meiji period (roughly, from the 1870s onward) when the more enlightened and relaxed attitudes of the Tokugawa era were constricted and the free expression of sexuality became more governmentally proscribed. The story is a fantasy, improved by a couple of websites. According to Chapter Seven of the East Asian History at http://www.east-asian-history.net/textbooks/172/ch7.htm, "Public bathhouses were numerous in Tokugawa Japan, and most were simply places to bathe, with no connection with prostitution. In certain areas, however, one could find `special' bath houses, staffed with voluptuous attendants who did more than simply scrub customers' backs. The bakufu banned such bathhouses in 1657, but, despite some occasional attempts at enforcing the ban, the bathhouses continued to exist." And the Wikipedia entry on Homosexuality (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality) notes, "Homosexuality in Japan [...] has been documented for over one thousand years and was an integral part of Buddhist monastic life," the life into which Andrew and his geisha-boy Toshiro eventually retire. Any errors in the story below are mine, and mine alone. If you have greater historical knowledge that would improve the following, please contact me. Thanks.
The following is an extract from an anonymous Victorian diary recently unearthed in a second-hand bookshop of dubious reputation Tokyo. The writer, identified only as "Andrew," set down his sexual encounters in novelistic fashion. Whether he intended to eventually have them published--there were many volumes of pornography printed during the Victorian era, some of it homosexual--is a mystery.
Andrew was a very young man indeed at the start of his diary. He was born into a proper, wealthy family; the father had secured his fortune in the publishing trade, perhaps making the youth's pornographic memoir a sly dig at Papa. Andrew's father then set up housekeeping in the countryside on the outskirts of the city.
The first sections of Andrew's narratives are taken up with his sexual initiation, at the age of 12, by the strapping young son of his father's groundsman. After a series of playful interludes with his seducer, Andrew moves on to boarding school, where over the next six years he beds many boys of various ages, and seduces a few masters as well.
In the winter of his 18th year, he becomes enamored of a young instructor, who applies some firm but delightedly accepted discipline to Andrew's backside with his strong right palm and, later, such implements as a tawse, a cane and a riding crop. Andrew's initial experience in this line opens up an exciting and hitherto unexplored vista in his youthful education, and for the next few months the pair engage in a series of sexual games involving various forms of corporal punishment.
The next section of the book details Andrew's university years at Cambridge, a nearly unbroken string of further romantic/erotic encounters which last until he graduates, whereupon he accepts employment with a merchant stationed in Tokyo.
The opening of Japan caused a mad rush to exploit the small island nation, and Andrew's new employer sends the young man to direct operations in the capital port. Andrew makes a great success in Tokyo, and frequents a bordello that caters to European, Asian and American men who desire the company of young Japanese males.
The remainder of the manuscript describes Andrew's growing infatuation with a Japanese youth named Toshiro (the same boy-courtesan who services Andrew in the following excerpt). When the boy decides to become a Buddhist monk, Andrew joins him and the two settle at a remote monastery, where they spend the rest of the book alternatively making love and meditating.
The following is an account of a typical night at the Shudo bathhouse in which Andrew first encountered Toshiro. We present this excerpt for modern readers as an authentic document of historical interest and cultural enlightenment. If the reading public exhibits enough interest, we may in future excerpt the earlier entries of Andrew's diary.
Several evenings each week I go to the Shudo, an establishment unrivalled in the excellence of its traditional Japanese cuisine and in the supple delicacies of the special favors dispensed by its employees.
One reaches the TBL by walking along the high street and ducking down one of its many alleys; this particular cul-de-sac is located next to a geisha house, which serves as both its cover and its entree. Down a set of stone steps to the basement, where entrance is gainsaid by uttering the word, "Koibito" ("lover") to the rather burly former samurai standing guard against unwelcome intruders.
Once inside the dimly lighted main room, I am greeted by Sanjiro-san, the owner and chief procurer. We bow deeply to one another, and he takes me to my special room. I remove my shoes at the door, as is the custom, and Sanjiro-san slides back the screen, allowing me egress.
A low table waits, which will be set with steaming plates of food when my boy-courtesan and I return from the bath. I have requested my accommodations in advance, and the beautiful young Toshiro waits within.
I do not yet know his age. Possibly he is as young as 16 or as old as 25--it is sometimes difficult for a Westerner to discern an Asian's age, as many of them, male and female, retain a youthful countenance long past the age at which most Europeans attain their maturity. (I have noticed much the same with those Africans I have encountered.) It is one of the many delights of the Oriental society that the eye is greeted on every thoroughfare by so many beautiful, smooth-skinned people, of both sexes.
Toshiro was trained early in the erotic arts, and his wisdom in this area far exceeds his years--whatever they may be.
[From reading the rest of the manuscript, we have determined that at the time of this entry Toshiro is in fact 16. --Ed.]
I began to attend this batthouse on an evening some four years ago, and Sanjiro-san had offered me many boy-geishas in that time. However, two years before the evening I am about to describe, Sanjiro-san informed me with a sly smile that he had a new boy.
[Andrew's diaries from the time of his posting in Tokyo to this entry are entirely devoid of sexual matters. But from this point on in the manuscript, his relations with Toshiro occupy the narrative almost entirely. --Ed.]
I should perhaps pause here to explicate some nomenclature. I hope those readers searching for salacious detail will pardon the intellectual intrusion, for I think it will explicate matters.
The Japanese language is in many ways more supple than English, for I have discovered no derogatory terms such as the British "buggery" or even the more euphemistic "Sodomy." Shudo itself signifies male-male attraction, and perhaps the attendant erotic activities between two of such like mind. (Another term I have encountered is nanshoku, or "male allure.")
A fixture of Japanese artistic expression for nearly a thousand years has been the depiction of the Wagō Twins, two handsome young lads who symbolize a sort of harmony of which the Japanese are especially desirous. (The word means, literally, "harmonious conjoining.") Many homes and businesses of a more mercantile flavor are decorated with depictions of the Wagō; indeed, an especially appealing statue of the Twins sits in a place of honor and prominence in the vestibule of the Shudo. Of course in this context, the boys serve as a more specific metaphor than in a proper Japanese domicile, and Sanjiro-san's Wagō were sculpted in an attitude of erotic embrace most specific to his establishment. One of the more pleasant, non-erotic activities which one may engage in with the geisha-boys is a sugoroku, or board-game in which a couple aspires to the status of wealth, prosperity and harmony.
Although Toshiro is circumspect about his origins, his especial beauty caused me to wonder if he had perhaps been an apprentice Kabuki actor, as many of those who perform female roles (called onnagata) quite often find additional employment as prostitutes. Sanjiro-san assured me that the boy was in no way associated with the theatrical professions, and I eventually learned that Toshiro had formerly been a student in a Gojū, a sort of neighborhood school for young males. Beyond these bare facts, the boy revealed little.
My introduction to Toshiro occurred on his very first night at The Shudo, and I was in fact been his very first customer. I do not delude myself that any of these boy-courtesans are virginal and certainly this notion would be disavowed by the delectations the boy had performed on and with me that first night. He had obviously been well schooled in his peculiar profession, and each shuddering pleasure was dispensed with exquisite sensitivity. (I have since learned from the boy that those selected for service as courtesans--at their own request, I should add, for they are never pressed into the sexual rites--are trained for several months in the erotic arts before they are placed with a procurer)
From that night forward, I never wanted any other boy.
I came to think of us, in my more fanciful moments, as embodiments of the Wagō, striving--at least on my part--for harmonious couple hood. (Only later would I discover that the boy had quite similar aspirations. Being shy and entirely circumspect, the boy did not confess this to me for some time, after our sojourn from Tokyo to the very monastery in which these memoirs are being composed.)
Once or twice after our first meeting had been succeeded by several more, I had wandered into Sanjiro-san's establishment only to be informed, upon asking, that Toshiro was otherwise engaged. I confess I felt no small amount of jealousy, for I had grown extremely fond of the boy. Sanjiro-san had offered me other boys those nights, and while I accepted with some disappointment, and although the substitutes had not been lacking in either charms or expertise, they were simply not Toshiro.
It finally occurred to me to "book" the boy in advance so as not to be put out at his unavailability; Sanjiro-san had concurred, provided an extra fee be attached, and I readily agreed, for it was more than worth that piddling amount to me always to know I would be entertained by "my boy," as I took to thinking of Toshiro. After that, I began to see the youth three times a week. Since that time, although he has other customers, the boy has been my only lover.
What is it about this particular boy that is so alluring? It is difficult for me to put into precise words, for the grip of love upon me has ever been composed of factors more urgent than mere physical beauty--although that attribute Toshiro has in profusion.
To start with, he is of slight stature and, as I am myself shorter than many Europeans, our comparative equality in height gives us excellent advantages in the various acts of love. I have been with boys both taller and shorter than Toshiro, and while each has had his own peculiar charms, I find that a close proximity in standard measurement of the limbs (not, need I add, those members of a more private nature) affects greater ease of pleasure. It is, to put a fine point on it, more difficult to fuck a boy who stands higher than you, or is too much shorter.
Toshiro's high cheekbones and smiling lips never fail to entice me, causing my heart to flutter and my loins to tingle in a way I have not experienced since I was as boy at school. His smile is more difficult to rouse, as he is a solemn and serious youth, as many Japanese are, and when I am able to elicit it, nothing makes me feel prouder or more accomplished. (And I endeavor to do so as often as I can!)
His body is thin and seemingly delicate, but with obvious muscular strength beneath the skin. He has a finely defined and hairless chest, each breast affixed with a small nipple surrounded by a large brown aureole. His arms, thighs, legs and belly are slender but perfectly proportioned, and the curve of him when he stands in silhouette is breathtaking.
His youthful twig is pleasingly designed, slim but with a rather wide helmet that, when it emerges from the hood of his foreskin, is most attractive. Like all Japanese males, his organs of generation are surrounded by a crown of lavishly thatched hair, thick and satiny, that beautifully frames his scrotum, which is delightfully round and tight against his perineum.
Naturally for a youth of my inclinations, a boy's backside is a physical characteristic of prime importance, and Toshiro does not disappoint in that regard. Far from it! His is the most deliciously rounded, hairless, smooth and altogether perfect pair of buttocks imaginable. They are a pillow of plump, unparalleled sweetness to rest one's head upon, and between them lies a smooth, wrinkled (and also hairless) anus that a Greek philosopher might write poems upon!
As I say, I have enjoyed Toshiro's favours many times before, and have become, he tells me, his favourite customer. I have even endeavored to teach him English beyond the custom of the courtesans (which is little aside from a stray word here or there to facilitate intercourse). This he laps up with alacrity, being an intelligent and sensitive youth.
Sanjiro-san informs me that he is considering asking the boy to keep himself available only to me, should I desire it. (Although I have, as I said, made arrangements to see only the boy, Toshiro sees others when I am not around.) This arrangement would be costly, but it is a tempting offer, as Toshiro's charms are such that a young man like myself may easily become unreasonably jealous of sharing them with others (and, I confess, I do!)
I confess, too, that my affection for the boy has taken on a deeper dimension. It is folly to fall in love with a boy-courtesan, yet my heart leaps each time I see Toshiro, and the feeling is not entirely erotic. I wonder if buying all his time is a step toward bringing Toshiro into my life on a more permanent level. But as his procurer has not yet mentioned a price, I suspect he awaits my offer and will take only the dearest coinage in return for this arrangement. I am quite seriously considering it.
It is more than tempting, for Toshiro's deep, liquid black eyes are framed by long lashes, his mouth is like ripened fruit, and as I have already said, his youthful and largely hairless body is compact and lean, well-muscled and delicious to the touch. I imagine having his delightful presence awaiting me always, and long to take advantage of his bounteous talents immediately. Indeed, my manhood fairly strains against the confines of my trousers, and my fingers tremble in anticipation to the point wherein I must fight the urge to take him, now, on top of the low wooden table, in a burst of uncontrolled passion.
Ah, but first--the preliminaries. These must be adhered to in detail, both for the sake of the body in feasting and cleanliness, and to create and maintain the maximum desire in both of us. It is a custom of such houses, and indeed the Oriental society as a whole, that traditional ceremony be maintained with utmost sincerity and attention to detail. And I confess that, the lengthier the preparations, the greater chance that the release which follows will be of infinitely superior intensity and hold a far more shattering pleasure.
(I should note here that what I about to describe is not the standard bill of fare; rather, it is a fuller banquet than the usual transaction, and its sense of being as like a multi-course meal is due to the premium I have contracted to pay for a complete evening's pleasure, divided into courses, if you will: the ablution, the appetizer, the meal, and the afters.)
Toshiro undresses me with quiet efficiency, hanging my clothing neatly on pegs as I step into my waiting robe. As usual, when he unbuttons my trousers and slips my drawers down, he averts his eyes from my throbbing manhood. It is part of the courtesan's art to be shy, and also to refrain from any possibility of giving offense to the client by either too much boldness or even the subtlest motion of the eyes that might suggest contempt for what the buyer holds beneath his trousers.
The boy opens a second screen, which leads to the bath. The water is always the right temperature, and I undrape the robe, hand it to the boy and seat myself gratefully in the soothing, steaming waters, which rise to my belly; I inevitably sigh in pleasure as the warmth envelopes me and eases my tension.
Toshiro undresses himself then, and I look with hunger at his naked form: as he turns to hang the robes on their pegs, I thrill to the always deeply moving sight of his tender young backside, its curves perfect and boyishly rounded, smooth as silk to the touch. He turns then and I see the slender man-root which has risen to attention as he comes toward me, jutting out as it does from the thick thatch of curiously straight black hair Japanese males sport about their nether regions, the sheath sliding back to reveal the deliciously flanged head. Then he climbs into the bath.
Seating himself behind me, he begins to soap my back. He rubs my skin tenderly, and as he reaches around to soap my chest, he scoots closer, his hardened sex now poking me lightly, just above the buttocks. I close my eyes and luxuriate in the delicious heat of the water and the delightful tingling sensations of his velvety skin against my own. My prick is swelling below the waterline and as his soapy hands slather my belly and down to my navel I place a hand on his silken thigh. He reaches down and takes hold of my prick, his slender fingers causing me to shudder with delight. He frigs me for a bit, his soapy palm sliding up and down the man-root and foreskin.
I reach my hand from his thigh and move it around his back to cup his delightfully taught and round left buttock. He scoots forward again, flattening his pulsating prick against my back, and I rub his sweet bottom, letting my index finger stray up to the folds of his hairless young arsehole. The silken pucker trembles when I touch it, and his hand becomes busier on my rod, frigging me harder now as its mate reaches round and tugs with urgency on my testicles. I move my finger around his hole, loosening its muscles; I poke at its velvety tight opening, teasing in and out of him and finger-poking him to a frenzied state. He buries his full lips in my neck, as his prick rubs heatedly against my back. He comes at once, moaning and spraying my back with his hot spend as I too release my orgasm to the hurried frigging of the palm clenched against my prick as his joy-hole spasms on my finger, buried as it is to the knuckle inside his clenching backside.
I lie back against him and we remain in this position, trembling and panting in the warm water, as our bodies begin to recover from the delightful spend. I crane my neck and kiss his lips. Soon, he comes round to face me, and washes the soap from my chest and genitals, pausing now and again to plant warm kisses on my mouth. With the natural resilience of youth, Toshiro's hooded prick is already beginning to stiffen once more, and looking at his splendid young body causes my own root to expand again. I kneel and Toshiro cleanses my backside and anus, his gentle fingers sending shivers of delight down my back as he softly soaps and rinses my sensual fundament, still pulsating slightly from my orgasm. (One of the most delightful aspects of sexual release being the spasm caused by internal pumping at the moment of ecstasy.)
I stand, and the boy gently dries us both off with warm towels. Then we stand together, arms about each other, and kiss. Our hands move languidly over each other's limbs, shoulders, backs and buttocks as we express to each other our genuine affection in the form of the sweet locking of lips that speak silently of the passion we feel.
We part, somewhat shyly, and slip back into our robes. When Toshiro he slides the dining room screen open, we discover the table laden with steaming food. We sit on the floor beneath the low tables, as is the custom in Japan, and begin to eat. It is during our meal that I teach the boy to speak and to write in English (Toshiro, too, educates: I am learning a colloquial form of Japanese to supplement my more formal knowledge) and so we alternate vowels and consonants with tempura and hot jasmine tea.
[The journal here becomes an exhaustive catalogue of Japanese cuisine, which--while not without interest--strays for several pages from the depiction of Toshiro's special talents. Therefore, these passages have been expunged. --Ed.]
Saki, the native wine, is a part of the meal, and must be taken in moderation for, even imbibed with food, it is a liquor of deceptive potency. It goes down with remarkable smoothness, and one may be tempted to imbibe freely. But too much will dull the senses--and, perhaps, impede one's ability to experience fully the sensual. Many is the foreign visitor who has succumbed to the charm of saki only to discover to his cost that he is more apt to fall into slumber than complete and effective arousal...
One low, shallow dish remains covered throughout our feast, situated above a plate of warm coals. As the meal ends Toshiro blows out the candles that brighten the small space one by one, until only a single waxen light illuminates a corner of the room, in which a comfortable mat has been placed. I rise then, and taking off my robe, lie on the matting. Toshiro also removes his vestment, and the sight of his slender, lean young body, hard again now at the boy-root, seen by flickering firelight, is mouth-watering, magical. The boy brings the covered dish and places it on the floor beside the mat. He removes the lid, revealing a quantity of thick, scented liquid.
He dips his fingers into the center and I lie back, awaiting his touch. He begins by rubbing the warm scented oil on my chest, spreading its smooth, velvety fluid onto my nipples, which become aroused under his delicate and sensual touch as he traces his fingers over first one and then the other, tweaking them lightly until it hardens, tingling. The aroma of the oil tickles my nostrils; it is soothing yet, somehow, quickens the senses, and as I breathe it in, I feel my prong growing still harder. We kiss again, deeply and with a blissful lack of hurry, and Toshiro offers his young prick to me.
Many Westerners wish only to be serviced and would become enraged at any boy-whore offering his own sex for fellating. (Of course to an Occidental, the mere desire for one's own sex is beyond the pale, although many indulge it secretly.) To desire a wog--their detestable word for all indigenous populations of whatever stamp--is also frowned upon, though many succumb in private. But even these gentlemen would express shock and astonishment at a fellow Westerner encouraging his boy-whores to expect this sort of implicit equality. They believe that boys should offer themselves only as receptacles for the white man's lust. They will fuck a boy, or be sucked by him, but never return the compliment. I am not now, nor have I ever been, persuaded of this narrow Imperialist belief. I want any boy with whom I an intimate to receive as much pleasure as he gives--especially when that boy is Toshiro. When he offers his sex, I take it, and with great relish.
It took Toshiro completely by surprise when first I indicated that I wished to pleasure him. He initially refused, saying he would be ostracized (or worse) for his audacity. As part of his training, he was discouraged from ever making such a presumption, and with the sternest of warnings. It took some time for me to make the boy understand that it was what I wished. I finally persuaded him that to let me fellate him, to allow me to accept his prick in my arse on occasion, would pleasure me greatly, and that no one in any case would know other than we. Now he accepts my lovemaking as an integral part of our ritual, although he always approaches it with a touching shyness.
I place my lips upon Toshiro's golden rod and allow the juicy head to enter my mouth. My tongue glides along the glans and enjoys the taste of his prick-head and the little driblets of boy-juice at the head as it pushes out of its little hood. I run my tongue along the extra skin and take it between my lips, delighting him so that he arches his back and moans softly. He sits on the upper part of my chest as I bring his delicious prick into and out of my salivating mouth. His charming bottom parts over my breast like a perfect halved-melon, one cheek just above each of my nipples, and I can feel his puckered little bung-hole between them as his hips gyrate, rubbing the warm, silky, puckered muscle against my flesh.
When I have feasted upon his proffered root for a time and sated my appetite for the taste of his smooth bollocks, I gently turn his body about so that we lie together, head to foot; his bottom, which so inflames my desire, reposes near my lips and my prick points toward his face. He grips it gently and moves his lips to the tip as I plant reverent kisses upon his silken flanks.
It would not be inaccurate to confess that I view Toshiro's bottom almost as a religious icon. Its perfection of shape and form are unparalleled in my (quite extensive, if I may say without fear of boasting!) erotic experience. It is the fleshy pillow on which I most desire to rest my head or, as I am doing now, to rain kisses of delirious joy upon. My lips seek, nuzzle and bestow sweet kisses upon first one delicious young, firm cheek and then the other. I part them with my hands, gaze longingly at the small, wrinkled fundament, and lick them ravenously.
The boy, meanwhile, is using all of his considerable prowess upon my penis. Even as I moan from the delight of kissing and licking Toshiro's agonizingly beautiful bottom, he makes me groan with abandoned passion by dint of his intensely erotic licking, kissing and sucking, which begins with the moist tip of my prong and progresses in languid, unhurried stages to the crown of my glans and down the shaft, ending with concerted attention to my roiling balls before traversing back upward. His gentle hands join with his expert lips and tongue, nearly bringing me to a climax that takes all my effort to forestall.
Courtesans, as I have noted, are trained only in the passive arts, and few of their customers ever ask them to reciprocate. Westerners, as I've also said, tend only to please themselves. Reciprocation is not expected by these pleasure-boys, and may even be discouraged. But Toshiro is always touched by my offer, and since I know his smallish root cannot cause me discomfort, I am always happy to allow him to mount me. He is as delicate and careful at fucking as he is in being fucked, and I so delight to feel him embedded within me that I usually tell him to remain with his prick up my bottom even after he is satisfied. I love to be held by Toshiro after he spends inside me, my arse as full of him as my lips when we kiss.
Although in general I prefer the active role, with his smaller penis it is actually quite pleasant and exciting for me to accommodate Toshiro's prong inside me--and sometimes serves as its purpose by making me even more desirous of fucking him. When we are limited as to time, by a sort of tacit agreement he will offer me his bottom, with the implicit hope (at least on my part) that the next time we meet I will have the pleasure of coupling with him in like manner. Tonight, however, we have more than sufficient hours to spare, and so the boy prepares to perform upon me that exquisite operation known as analingous.
Taking command of the situation with a shy but forceful determination, Toshiro rolls me over onto my belly. He first kneels between my open thighs, and then lies down. (Happily, my body exhibits very little hair, and so I am nearly as free of annoying fur between my bottom-cheeks as the boy himself.) His face descends and his warm lips dart about, dispensing soft, sweet kisses and spine-shivering nibbles upon my lower spine and buttocks before placing his hands upon my cheeks and parting them. Then I feel the unmistakable sensation of his moist tongue as it licks a line up my perineum and toward the centre of my backside.
The boy's easeful tongue runs in circles, ever diminishing, around the target. This heightens both the pleasure and the anticipation of that longed-for sensation. At last, the tip of his rigid tongue makes contact with the very heart of that opening so perfectly made by Nature for erotic delight. The feel of that wet, eager probe pushing with utmost delicacy its gentle way between the lips of my sensitized bunghole causes me to writhe in an agony of pleasure, tearing a gasp of seething contentment from my throat. The boy eases his tongue past my rosebud, pushing slowly yet with grave determination into the depths of my most secret place. He laps and tongue-fucks my fundament with delicacy and ardor, causing my prick, already in a state of unbridled arousal, to unfurl still more, until it is stiff to the point of pain. Ah, but such a lovely hurt, to be sure!
Time passes. How much? I cannot tell, lost as I am in the deep sensations the boy unleashes within me by his practiced interior massage. After a suitable interval, however, Toshiro withdraws and, retrieving the bowl of warm oil, plunges his fingers into it and begins to rub my relaxed and waiting arsehole with delicious gentility. I sigh and squirm as his long, slender digits press inward, first one, then two, and finally three of them passing through my yielding muscle to slide deep within. They glance delicately against my interior pleasure-knot, and I begin to writhe, begging him to replace them with his prong.
Quietly ambidextrous, the boy has been oiling his prick with one hand, even as the other does unspeakably pleasurable things inside me. When they withdraw, the flanged head of his boy-root deftly replaces them. I sigh, relaxed and willing, as he slowly presses in, the head nestling in and passing the ring of muscle, which yields happily against this gentle onslaught. In a trice (for, as I have noted, his sexual organ is rather slight) he is fully embedded, and leans down to kiss my shoulders and upward to my neck as he begins to fuck me. His movements are gentle, like everything about him, and while under ordinary circumstances I do not much care to have a prick in my arse, Toshiro's lovemaking is deeply pleasurable to me. He never rushes, or hurries, or stabs with urgency, but makes graceful movements with his hips which send his rigid tool in and out, the entire procedure like a melody played in some celestial band.
Finally, he lies down upon my back and wraps his slender arms about me, kissing my neck and ears and murmuring endearments in that peculiarly musical whisper of his that nearly brings me to tears of joy.
"Andrew-San," he moans softly. "Ahhh..."
"Toshiro--oh, Toshiro!" I reply with urgency, pushing upward with my own hips, my buttocks thrusting up against his pelvis, meeting him stroke for stroke.
I squeeze my muscles very tightly upon him. He gasps, and I know he is close. And indeed, in a very few moments his rhythm alters and he thrusts with greater alacrity--the movements still shockingly gentle, but containing within them the promise of his impending spend. When it arrives, his body tenses, his back arches, and he speaks my name in a soft scream of delight, an almost harsh, sibilant whisper of sweet passion obtained and completed: "Andrew-Saaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnn!!!"
He collapses fully upon my back, and I squeeze down upon his prong, making him shudder, his teeth biting gently into my neck. We lie there for some time as he softens, for I love the feel of him inside me, his warmth as he lies, spent in all ways, on my back, and the way his lips brush my throat and ears as he whispers soft endearments and words of thanks for allowing him to fuck me.
Our custom then is to sleep then, briefly, drawing up and storing strength and endurance for the second part of our night of love. The boy remains where he is, for I love to fall into an unconscious state with Toshiro inside me.
When we awaken again, Toshiro is still inside me, and I enjoy the feel of his small prong against my interior walls as it slides from me. I roll over then and he, knowing my desire, scoots his shapely bum back toward my waiting lips. I stare for some time at Toshiro's perfectly proportioned, rounded and agonizingly beautiful bottom. The boy's smooth cheeks are spread alluringly, and his hairless back-door hovers at the center of my line of sight. My trembling hands reach for his buttocks and pull them back toward my lips.
As with my desire to suck him, Toshiro was rather shocked when I first placed my tongue on his nether-hole--not because such an activity was unknown to him (he has performed it upon me numerous time, to my utter delight) but, again, due to it being performed on him and not by him. But once he submitted to my blandishments, he grew to look forward most eagerly to my oral attentions.
As for myself, the taste and feel of a scrupulously clean arse-hole are among the greatest pleasures of the sexual banquet, and arouse in me such a torrential surge of desire that I could quite easily spend whilst maneuvering my tongue in and out of a boy's behind--especially Toshiro's! It would, I suppose, be difficult to explain to the fastidious or uninitiated the pleasing allure of a boy's freshly cleansed hole. Toshiro smells of scented soap, and the folds of his secret passage are as soft and pliant as those other lips of his, which I know are twisted now in a grimace of pleasure as my tongue delicately prods against his anus. For those disinclined to such delight, I doubtless cannot convey the delicious feel of this velvety ribbon of soft, puckered muscle on the exploring tongue, nor the strangely sweet taste of it.
After wetting the vessel, my tongue pushes inward. The folds of the boy's fundament part before me, then contract, squeezing down gently as I slowly force my way inside. My prong is completely unfurled, thrumming and thumping upon my belly; no other bodily pleasure I have discovered can arouse me so utterly. My loins tingle and ache as I lap in and out of the boy's sweet, mucousy bunghole as Toshiro writhes, pushing back to meet my tongue as it spears his tender opening. Although I could easily spend an hour (or more!) at this happy task, my current attention to Toshiro's bottom is merely the delightful prelude to my taking him.
And so, reluctantly I remove my tongue and lips from the boy and he rises once more to retrieve the oil; a generous helping is then applied to my prick. The boy works unhurriedly, expertly, his fingers caressing and gliding over the length of my manhood, from the base to the tip, thumb and forefinger now and then squeezing to apply delightful pressure to the underside. Just as I feel I am about to spend, he senses the approaching climax and withdraws his fingers. Then he moves to my testicles, cups them, pulls at their sac, the oil now thoroughly covering my sex, sending heavenly thrills of delight coursing through each nerve.
He stops caressing me and lies upon my belly, his mouth seeking mine. My arms wrap around his back and encircle once more his superb buttocks. We kiss, and soon he is sitting upon me once more, his backside resting on my belly, just above my painfully engorged prick. Toshiro plunges his fingers into the oil once more, and thrusts first one and then another and then still a third digit up his backside. Then he reaches behind and grips me tightly, aiming my achingly rigid and thoroughly lubricated rod toward his equally slickened arse. The tip kisses his sweet hole, and he rises up, then squats slowly, impaling himself on my enflamed prick, until it is buried up his warm, entrancing bottom.
He uses his delightful behind almost in the fashion of a syringe, sliding up and down on my oily prick, letting it pull most of the way out of his warm, enveloping bottom and then sitting back down rapidly once more, shoving it, whole, up his arse. He is riding me as one would a horse, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth open in a silent cry of delight as he slips and slides above me, my prick now securely up his bum, now out of it save the tip, which he massages with delicate intensity by tightening and relaxing his anal musculature, making me gasp with pleasure, my own muscles clenching, from my toes up to my perspiring face.
Holding him around his slender waist, I push him gently onto his back. As I fall forward, my prick sinking more deeply up his wet fundament, he wraps his silken thighs around me and pushes his bottom up to meet my groin. Our lips connect once more as we lie together, thrusting--he towards my plunging prick, I deeply inside his slick, gently undulating bunghole.
This is, for me, the sweetest of all positions for copulation. It enables me to push deeply inside the boy, grazing his pleasure-knot and making him shudder and sigh. In addition, I can lower my face to his and kiss his thick, sensuous lips as we fuck. I can feel both his stiff twig rub up against my belly as I rut inside him and my own bollocks slapping softly against the fulsome cheeks of his splendid bottom.
Toshiro stops me for a moment, both of us panting and perspiring. Now as I regain my breath I can gaze down at his astonishing beauty, unable quite to believe such a treasure is mine, if only for a few hours... and at a price.
Being expert at the arts of love, Toshiro can manipulate my desire at will, and by initiating a respite like this he expertly extends the experience before I can spend. I am still quite hard, but no longer fully fixated upon completion. He smiles up at me, his long thick hair matted appealingly to his forehead and flowing across the pillow beneath his head. He reaches up and strokes my chest, making me shudder as his fingers brush my tender, enflamed nipples. I smile back, a most genuine external expression of the joy I feel at the presence of this lovely boy in my life and against my loins.
Toshiro slowly moves onto his side, careful to keep the connection between us. I kneel and he raises one thigh, positioning it behind me. I begin to move once more, thrusting slowly and languidly, my prick meeting some delicious resistance as it pushes against bone and muscle. This elicits groans from me and little gasps of pleasure from Toshiro. We maintain the position for some time, pausing now and again to kiss, the taste of his skin acting upon me like a gentle aphrodisiac.
After a slight interval, Toshiro moves once more, holding me in place as he lies upon his belly. He knows my fondness for this position, for in it I can gaze down at the soft, round and utterly beguiling half-melons of his bottom as my prick slides in and out. The sight is utterly entrancing and never fails to enflame my desire, almost to the point of boiling over.
My gyrations are becoming more intense now, and after a few moments (in which he pushes his delectable bottom up hard against my plunging hips) Toshiro takes charge once more.
The boy's slender prick bounces before him, bobbing wildly, the tip glistening with his liquid seed. I reach out for his tan hips and hold on. Soon I begin thrusting hard, delirious cries of ecstatic wonder issuing from my throat as I come. Then he too begins his ejaculation, and his prick lets loose a prodigious, hot spend upon the mat.
When we are quite through, he falls upon me again, and we kiss in fervor as my root slips slowly out of his squeezing sphincter.
We sleep once more, our oily hands around each other's unconscious bodies.
When we wake, it's time to bathe again. Silent hands have cleared the dishes away and a large bowl of clean warm water is waiting us by the tub. We tenderly clean the oil and spend from each other's flesh, pausing now and again to kiss, to touch, to hold and fondle. When we are clean once more, we retire again to the mat, which has also been attended to; clean sheets await our naked bodies, and it is here that we engage in a simultaneous fellating.
Each attached to the other by moist mouths, our man-roots are kissed and licked and finally swallowed as we take each other's final joyous deposits. We lie together for some time afterward, kissing and touching each other. Then he rises and retrieves his robe. He dresses me in my street-clothes, and we kiss once more before I must leave for another dreary day of corporate toil.
I hold him close, my prick rousing again as I smell his clean scent and wish with all my fervent heart I could take him home with me today--at once! and know these delights whenever we choose to commit them. And if his own embrace is merely a performance, the boy is the greatest actor the world has yet known, for his clings to me, his face buried in my breast and sighs deeply when I gently move my arms from him. I hold his beautiful face in my hands and plant a reverent kiss on his full, sensual lips before taking my leave. My prick is so rigid I could take him again, here, now, spending my seed once more in his sublime backside.
Toshiro will have the day to sleep, and I to dream throughout the tedium of employment--of his luxuriant skin and sweet caresses--until my next appointment at the Shudo bathhouse...