UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 07

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 04: UNFINISHED AFFAIRS
BY BOB WILLIAMS
ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, CHIYOKO, HANAKO, SAMMY, HIROKO, 
NATSUKO, SACHI, MAKI, YUKI AND AYAKO

PART 07

CHAPTER VII 

Modern Technology

     I wrote this story for an American magazine which 
     was doing a special issue on technological 
     gadgets: contributors were asked to predict what 
     might be available in a few years. So I put my 
     imagination to work. It wasn't difficult, since I 
     already knew that Japanese girls are devoted to 
     two things above all: sex and their mobile 
     phones. The editors turned the article down. I 
     suppose they thought it was too frivolous. Hiroko 
     is based on several delightful girls I was going 
     with at the time. Perhaps the editors didn't 
     believe such girls existed. We who live in Japan 
     know better. 

"I think they've grown a bit since you saw them 
last," said Hiroko with a flirtatious smile. She took 
off her bra and dropped it on the chair on top of the 
blouse of her school uniform. 

"Come over here and let me check," I said. 

I have a special method of measuring girls' breasts. 
It has nothing to do with tape-measures and stuff like 
that. It depends on how well they fit into my cupped 
hands. She stood close to me, her bottom wriggling 
against my cock through the thick school skirt as I 
fitted my hands over her firm young breasts. 

"Yes, maybe just a _little_ bigger," I said 
judiciously, allowing her hard nipples to peek out 
between my fingers and squeezing them lightly. "D'you 
think they'll grow any more?" 

"Oh, I do _hope_ so!" said Hiroko. "(Oooh, that feels 
nice. Squeeze harder.) I want to grow really big 
breasts, firm and not sagging, like the girls in the 
_manga_ pictures." 

Like all sex-obsessed Japanese girls, Hiroko got a lot 
of her information on sex and on ideal feminine beauty 
from pornographic cartoon magazines where girls had 
implausibly perfect bodies and were endlessly fucked 
and whipped to orgasm in ways that fuelled a nation's 
masturbation fantasies. 

"Well, remember what the wise Frenchman said. More 
than a handful is too much." 

She giggled. 

"You've got nice big hands." She pulled away from me. 
"Shall I change now?" 

"Yes, please." 

Unlike many men in Japan - Japanese and resident 
_gaijin_ too - I don't have a fetish about school 
uniforms. Schoolgirls, yes; but I like to see them 
dressed prettily as precocious little tarts, rather 
than in their sailor suits, socks and flat shoes. 
Hiroko went off to investigate the closets where we 
kept the items her school and her parents weren't 
supposed to know about. 

Hiroko and I hadn't been lovers for long. She came to 
see me from time to time after school in my big 
Akasaka penthouse apartment, and we had lovely times 
together, but we neither of us felt the need to be 
faithful or exclusive. It was more than ten years 
since I had first come to Japan from the US and 
started earning my living, first as a teacher and then 
as a writer about the exotic country I lived in. Life, 
and Japan, had been good to me. My in-depth accounts 
of the Japanese sex industry were sought after and 
brought me a good income; and the flow of delicious 
teenaged girls sent to me for private English classes 
also paid well and provided me, free of charge, with 
all the sex I could handle. My connections with the 
sex industry meant I could introduce them to studios 
with an insatiable appetite for fresh young nude 
models and porn actresses: the girls' gratitude to me 
for fulfilling their fantasies enhanced my sex life 
and the studios' commissions added further to my bank 
balance. 

Hiroko came dancing back to me, wearing only a 
microskirt in a red plasticated material which 
crackled sexily as she moved. It was moulded tightly 
to her bottom in a fashionable style I very much 
approved of. She might have been wearing panties under 
it but I didn't think so. She was naked above the 
waist: there was no doubt her breasts _had_ grown 
recently. 

"Heels!" I said sharply. 

Japanese girls have a funny relationship with shoes. 
Away from home they wear the sexiest and smartest 
shoes imaginable; but as soon as they enter a domestic 
environment they feel obliged to take them off and 
slop around in slippers as their ancestors did. 
Judging by my extensive collection of porn videos 
Japanese men like them that way. I suppose it makes 
them look soft, cuddly and vulnerable. I have to keep 
reminding my girls that we perverted _gaijin_ like to 
see our girls in the highest and most impracticable 
heels - especially when they aren't wearing anything 
else.[7] 

Hiroko went back to the closet and put on a pair of 
high black stilettos with laces which tied in a nice 
fetish bow round her ankles. We had bought them 
together a few weeks ago in Asakusa. As she teetered 
towards me I could feel my balls itching: I couldn't 
decide whether to fuck her first or whip her. If I 
asked her which she preferred she would want both, 
bless her. And either would mean telling her to strip 
off the sexy red skirt. I was enjoying looking at her 
in that, and decided to spin out the pleasure a little 
longer. 

From another drawer I pulled out a rope. It was quite 
old, with frayed ends, and constant use had made it 
soft and flexible. When I thought of the hundreds of 
girls whose delicate flesh had submitted to the rough 
kiss of this hempen lover - well, I really began to 
feel quite sentimental. 

"Oh, yes, _please_!" said Hiroko, her eyes lighting up 
with lust. 

She stood close to me as I doubled the rope and hung 
it round her neck, tying knots where the strands would 
pass between her breasts. Quickly I passed them 
tightly round her chest, caging her breasts in an open 
bra of rope. It is a simple piece of bondage, but very 
effective in stimulating the mutual desire of both 
partners. I had had the pleasure of introducing Hiroko 
to both bondage and whipping, and she was now 
delightfully addicted to both. Again, I had the 
_manga_ cartoon magazines to thank for that: she had 
brought me a well-thumbed example showing a beautiful 
girl being tightly bound and then sadistically whipped 
with a knotted cat-o'-nine-tails, and asked me to 
enact the story frame by frame. She had loved every 
moment of it and kept begging for more. 

"Oooh, lovely!" she said, admiring herself in the 
mirror. "Are we going out later? Can I go like this?" 

The thought of showing Hiroko off in the fashionable 
streets of Tokyo wearing nothing but her rope and her 
red microskirt was very arousing. But a foreigner must 
be careful not to provoke the authorities if he wants 
to be left to fuck his girls in peace. 

"Yes, but you'll have to wear something over the 
top," I said reluctantly. 

She made a face at me in the mirror, then changed the 
subject. 

"Now that I'm sixteen," she said, "how many lovers do 
you think I ought to have?" 

Hiroko had been brought to me shortly after her 
sixteenth birthday, with the usual request that I 
perform a miracle on her English. There were other 
things I wanted very much to teach her as well; but I 
am always cautious about introducing the subject of 
sex to my pupils. One false move and they can be taken 
away from me, leaving me with neither the income nor 
the pleasure. Fortunately teaching English 
conversation means you have to talk about lots of 
things, and it isn't difficult to edge the discussion 
round to the girl's sexual fantasies and dreams for 
the future. In Hiroko's case I needn't have worried: 
she was as keen to seduce me as I was to have her; and 
I soon discovered she was already an accomplished 
little fuck. She needed only to be made a little more 
polished and varied in her sexual interests. A wider 
choice of lovers could only help, so I thought 
carefully before answering her question. 

"You mean regular lovers, or including one-offs at 
parties and so on?" 

"Well, I was thinking of regular lovers like you - but 
sex at parties is beautiful too, isn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"I've been so busy with schoolwork it's been ages ... 
the last time was when you took me to Kato-san's 
house." 

She was referring to Megumi. Megumi was a very special 
person in my life. I had met her ten years ago, when 
she was a promising young porn starlet under contract 
to a film studio called Marucho. In due course she had 
married the boss, but we had remained friends and 
occasional lovers. Now she was in her late twenties 
she had largely given up acting and concentrated on 
helping her husband run the company. Their sex-parties 
were famous, and were an opportunity for the studio to 
display its new talent and for young hopefuls like 
Hiroko to show what they could do before an expert 
audience. Hiroko had done very well, removing her 
dress like an expert stripper and fucking skilfully 
and enthusiastically all evening. 

"That was _so_ lovely ..." Hiroko continued. "But you 
haven't answered my question." 

"Well," I said thoughtfully, "for a girl of sixteen 
... I'd say, maybe, ten or a dozen regular partners 
would be normal. Plus whatever sex she gets at parties 
or on camera, of course." 

Hiroko looked at me provocatively. She clearly wasn't 
going to let me know if I had over- or under-estimated 
her current stable. 

"Anyway," I said, "I haven't seen you for ages, so I 
hope you've been getting plenty of sex elsewhere. And 
now I have a little present for you." 

I handed her the parcel I had prepared. She tore off 
the paper eagerly and opened the box. 

"What is it?" 

"Well, it's a pair of vibrators ..." I said. 

"Yes, I see. Thank you. I have several like this ... 
but I'm sure these are special!" she added hastily. 

"Well, yes, they are rather. They're based on the 
latest mobile phone technology." 

"Aren't there any wires or batteries?" she asked, 
looking more closely. 

"Let me show you." 

Both looked rather like the little torpedo-shaped 
vibrators of the kind many Japanese girls wear inside 
their neat tights and dainty panties, giving 
themselves gentle pleasure when travelling to and from 
work or during boring hours at the office. One, the 
bigger and fatter one, would fit snugly inside her 
cunt while the narrower one would comfortably fill her 
arsehole. Both had blunt plastic spikes protruding 
from one end, acting partly as handles for adjusting 
and removing them; but, as she had noticed, they had 
no wiring connecting them to battery packs. They were 
in fact the product of the latest developments in 
miniaturised batteries, as well as of mobile phone 
technology; somehow the designers had found a way of 
packing several hours of power into the vibrators 
themselves. 

"Where are the switches?" she asked. 

"There aren't any. They work by remote control." 

"That sounds fun." 

"Try them, I said. "Just slip them into your pussy and 
arse." 

She lifted her red microskirt. No, she wasn't wearing 
anything underneath. The little silver gadgets 
vanished smoothly inside her. 

"Now what?" she asked. 

"Go and look out of the window." 

Puzzled, she did what I asked. When she was distracted 
by whatever was going on outside, I reached for my 
mobile and punched in a speed-dial number. 

"Ohhh!" she said, spinning round to face me with her 
hands flying to her cunt and bottom. "But that's 
_wonderful_! You mean ... I can turn them on whenever 
I want by pressing a number on my mobile?" 

"No. You haven't understood at all. _I_ can turn them 
on by pressing a number on _my_ mobile." 

Her face, as she took in the implications, was a 
delight. I pressed the "cancel call" button and the 
vibrators stopped. 

"But you could give me the number." 

"I could. But I won't." 

"You mean ..." 

"I mean that wherever I am - anywhere in the world - I 
can switch them on for you. You will never know when 
to expect it. You'll just know that somewhere I am 
thinking of you and loving you. And you'll just have 
to keep it a secret and somehow pretend nothing is 
happening to you." 

"Oh! I _love_ it! I love it!" she said. "I'll _never_ 
take them out. I promise they will always be inside me 
... in my cunt and in my arse ... oooh ... waiting for 
you to think of me and tell me you're wanting me! And 
... just think what fun it will be if you set them off 
during a boring lesson or when I'm in front of a 
teacher, and I nearly have an orgasm!" 

"The way you squeal and wriggle whenever I stroke your 
pussy, you'll have a problem not giving yourself 
away." 

"But that will be part of the fun!" 

"You'll have to take them out to recharge them," I 
said, being practical and handing her a bag containing 
the charger. 

"Oh yes. And," she added with a teasing smile, "when 
one of my other lovers is fucking me." 

"Naughty!" I said, just as she expected me to. "That's 
earned you quite a few strokes from my whip." 

"Oooh!" she said, rubbing her body against me. "Nice! 
Can I have them now?" 

"No. I want to look forward to it." 

"You could whip me now, and then look forward to 
whipping me again later." 

"I prefer to think of you not getting it and building 
up an appetite." 

"I'll just have to ask one of my other lovers to whip 
me, then ..." she said vaguely. "But ... why don't you 
give me the mobile number? I promise never to use it 
myself. I was just thinking: I could give it to those 
ten or a dozen lovers you were telling me I should 
have, and ask them to call me sometimes too. Wouldn't 
that be nice?" 

"How could you tell who was calling?" 

"Well, I wouldn't be able to, would I? But that 
wouldn't matter ... just as it doesn't matter which of 
you is fucking me so long as you all fuck me well." 

"Slut!" I said, pretending to be angry. 

"And ... oooh, I've just had a marvellous idea!" 

"Yes?" 

"Can you ... yes, can you make a conference call on 
that thing?" 

"I suppose so." 

"And if all the girls in the class were wearing these 
..." She looked at me, her eyes dancing with 
excitement. 

"And I made a conference call ..." 

"And we all had an orgasm together - now that really 
_would_ be a sexual revolution! Nobody could possibly 
control us!" 

"Except me," I said. "_I_ would be the one controlling 
you." 

We looked at each other in wonder. 

"Suppose ..." I said - 

"Suppose ..." she said - 

"Suppose ..." we both said, "every girl in Japan 
bought a pair of these ..." 

"Yes," I said. "You know how fashions catch on among 
you girls." 

"And someone pressed the button, and every girl in 
Japan suddenly started screaming in orgasm ..." 

"It would be like an earthquake!" 

It was an awe-inspiring thought. 

"Now you really have earned yourself a whipping," I 
said firmly. "And a hard one. Take your skirt off, but 
leave the rope and shoes on." 

She immediately began to unzip the little skirt. 

"Slowly," I instructed her. "Remember what I taught 
you. How to be a successful stripper." 

She took off her skirt very successfully, so far as I 
was concerned. Hiroko was keen to make her debut at a 
strip-club and I had taught her the basic moves. She 
finished with a pretty little gesture of throwing her 
panties into the audience - which she had to mime as 
of course she wasn't wearing any. 

"Good. Now, you know where to go, don't you?" 

"Oooh, yes! Your special room, with all the lovely 
equipment!" 

"That's right. I've left the door unlocked. Wait for 
me there." 

"Please don't make me wait long. I want it _so_ 
much!" 

She skipped happily out of the room. I waited till I 
judged she was standing nude within the 
whipping-frame, waiting eagerly for me; and then I 
called the number again. 

FOOTNOTES

[7] Dr William A Rossi, in _The Sex Life of the Foot 
and Shoe_ (1976; new edition 1993), describes how 
"When worn by women, the high heel sensuously alters 
the whole anatomy," and concludes: "High heels may 
well be the most potent aphrodisiac ever concocted." 
Marilyn Monroe once said, "I don't know who invented 
the high heel, but all women owe him a lot." So do all 
men ...                                          - B W 


[Next in Part 08: Chapter VIII: Natsuko: The Rock-Hard 
Club]

For complete series so far see 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Bob_Williams