WORK IN PROGRESS 11

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 05: WORK IN PROGRESS
BY BOB WILLIAMS
ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, NORIKO, FUJIKO, AYUMI, SAEKO, 
MARIKO, TAMA, MAIKO, SHIZUE, MIE, AYAKO, TOMO, YUU 
AND RUMI 

PART 11

CHAPTER XI 

Personal Best

     Perhaps you remember Ayako - also known as 
     Aya-chan. She was the girl I once took on holiday 
     to a very special hotel. She wrote a lovely 
     account of what we did there which I included in 
     my book _Unfinished Affairs_. Here she is again, 
     describing how an exciting sexual adventure once 
     opened the door for her to become the great 
     Marucho porn-star she now is. 

The morning sun was streaming through the window when 
I woke. We must have forgotten to draw the curtains 
last night, I thought. I was alone in the big bed, and 
as I stretched out my naked body I experienced that 
wonderful feeling of perfect well-being that comes to 
a girl who has slept well after being comprehensively 
fucked. I didn't remember much about the previous 
evening, but it had obviously been really good. 

I became aware of a pleasant funky smell. I stroked my 
body and investigated a slight itchiness on my face. I 
discovered that I was still decorated with great 
splashes of dried cum on my mouth, breasts and tummy. 
Ah, _that_ sort of evening, was it? Lovely. Memories 
began to return. I had no idea where I was, but I 
remembered being brought to a party. I was the only 
girl among twelve or fifteen men, and I had been 
annoyed with my date for not warning me. Not that I 
dislike being the only girl - very much not! - but I 
like to prepare myself. I had been expecting the 
free-flowing sex of a regular party, taking man after 
man in hole after hole, interspersed with some pretty 
lesbian displays with other girls for variety and to 
stimulate the watching men. A gang-bang is lovely too, 
but I like to dress a little more coyly. It is more 
fun for all of us if I pretend not to expect the 
treats in store for me and let out dainty squeals of 
protest as I am passed from man to man. Yesterday, I 
now remembered, I had worn only high-heeled gold shoes 
with long plaited thongs wound tightly round my 
calves, long gold gloves and tiny gold side-tie 
panties. _They_ wouldn't have lasted long and were 
probably now part of some man's souvenir collection. 
Well, he was welcome to them. I bought my gloves and 
my sexy panties in bulk from a shop in Shinjuku where 
I was a welcome customer and often met my 
girl-friends, all of us choosing the clothes we needed 
for the lovely world of endless party sex that we 
enjoyed so much. 

I sat up in bed, my arms round my knees. The room 
looked surprisingly tidy, considering what must have 
happened there only a few hours ago. I could see my 
shoes lying on the floor near the bed. Sitting up, I 
felt a beautiful warmth in my anal passage accompanied 
by a deep unreachable itch. So my arse had had its 
share of attention! Suppose there had been fifteen men 
there. At least, I thought, trying to remember. 
Suppose each one came three times, entering my arse, 
pussy and mouth even if they chose to pull out at the 
last moment and anoint me with their cum. Forty-five 
fucks. Pretty good. No wonder my body felt so pampered 
and - for the moment at least - well satisfied. 

I rolled to the edge of the bed, swung my legs over 
and stood up. I needed a shower. It was a shame to 
wash off all the lovely cum, but there was plenty more 
where that came from! It was Saturday, so no office to 
bother about. And there were lots of sex-parties every 
Saturday in Tokyo. Somebody would take me to one. It 
might not be another lovely gang-bang, but I should 
get plenty of fucking. Especially up my arse, I 
thought: that deep tickle was showing no sign of 
leaving me in peace and I knew only one way of 
scratching it. Of course relieving it would, soon 
enough, only make it tickle me again even more 
maddeningly - but that was the wonderful thing about 
sex: the more you had, the more you wanted ... Still, 
forty-five fucks was a pretty good personal best for 
the moment. 

I looked out of the window. I was quite high up: maybe 
on the fifth or sixth floor of a block. All I could 
see was a typically anonymous Japanese cityscape, with 
no clue as to where exactly in Tokyo I was. It was 
quite an adventure to be alone in an unknown 
apartment, with no clothes. Well, the only thing to do 
was go along with the adventure and see what happened. 
Meanwhile I needed that shower. 

There was a bathroom off the bedroom, with a very 
modern shower equipped with different sprays - not 
just the simple hand-shower on a bracket so usual in 
Japan. I enjoyed myself, washing my body with 
expensive scented soap and tickling myself pleasurably 
with the variable showers. Then I stepped out and 
dried myself with one of the enormous fluffy towels 
provided. The bathroom was remarkably well equipped, 
with a range of lotions and sprays. Looking through 
the drawers I found a good collection of feminine 
make-up - almost as good as if I'd chosen it myself. 
So I sat in front of the big mirror and made up my 
face carefully. I rather overdid the lip-gloss, 
naughtily adding a touch to my nipples as well: but 
why not? I had no clothes to show myself off with, so 
must make myself as pretty as I could with what was 
available. I erected my nipples to the maximum by 
pinching them hard, relishing the sharp pleasure that 
flooded through me. "Oh, please stop! Please don't 
hurt me!" I murmured piteously to my reflection in the 
mirror, practising; then scented my breasts, pussy and 
arsehole, trimmed a few stray hairs from the crisp 
curls of my cunt-hair, and wandered back to the 
bedroom. 

I tidied up a little, straightening the sheets of the 
bed. Then I put on my pretty gold shoes, easing my 
feet onto the curved soles and tying the plaited 
thongs smoothly round my ankles and lower calves. 
There is something special about putting on 
high-heeled shoes: every girl knows that. The change 
in posture, the teetering walk, have a strange effect 
on one's sexual feelings. Of course one can feel full 
of desire when barefoot; but being forced to stand and 
walk on tiptoe prepares you for sex in a unique way. 
Have you noticed that when you come your calf muscles 
contract, making you point your toes? I guess 
artificially taking up that position makes some bit of 
your mind believe orgasm is imminent, and flood you 
with sexy feelings. Why else do girls so love wearing 
high heels, and compete with each other to wear the 
highest, prettiest and most impractical? Of course, 
seeing a girl wear shoes like that drives men wild 
with desire, but that isn't the only reason we like 
wearing them. 

Teetering across the room on my heels, and enjoying 
the familiar feelings they gave me, I came to a 
dressing-table in one corner. I had hardly noticed it 
before, being preoccupied with more urgent needs, but 
now I sat down before it and looked at myself in the 
mirror. Nice; but my hair was still damp and flat from 
the shower. Without thinking I picked up a brush and 
attended to it. The table, like the bathroom, was well 
equipped: there were brushes, combs, cotton-balls and 
tissues, all neatly arranged in little trays and 
boxes. I opened the drawers. There was more make-up: I 
touched up my earlier work, and daringly added more 
gloss to my hard nipples. In one drawer there was a 
selection of jewellery; but nowhere were there any 
clothes - not even the skimpiest panties or bras. Oh, 
well. From the jewellery drawer I selected a pair of 
long dangling earrings. They looked nice on me, I 
thought. There was an elaborate metal chain belt with 
many little ornaments suspended from it: it looked 
meant to go with the earrings, so I tried it on. It 
fitted snugly round my waist. I couldn't really see 
the effect in the dressing-table mirror, so I went 
back to the bathroom to look at myself in the big 
mirrors there. Very nice indeed. Somehow I felt that 
the mysterious adventure I had embarked on required me 
to look my best; and as no clothes were provided I was 
being tested to see what I could do with what there 
was. Before leaving the bathroom I couldn't resist 
touching up my make-up yet again and spraying a little 
more perfume onto my breasts, cunt and arse. Well, _I_ 
liked the effect; and I hoped this attention to the 
finer details of my appearance would please whoever 
owned the bed I had been sleeping in. 

I realised I was hungry and badly wanted some 
breakfast. Surely there must be food in this apartment 
somewhere - even if there were no clothes for a girl 
to wear! I tried the bedroom door. Somehow I had 
imagined that in this adventure the door would be 
locked and that I was at the mercy of whoever had 
brought me here. Many of the stories in pornographic 
_manga_ cartoon magazines concerned beautiful heroines 
imprisoned by evil (and fantastically well-hung) 
villains. But the door opened easily. I teetered along 
the corridor on my high heels: at the end was a 
staircase leading down. So this was a duplex 
apartment. Up the stairs came a tantalising aroma of 
coffee - and the sound of voices. 

So down I went, following the smell of coffee. I 
opened a door and found myself in a large, very modern 
kitchen. Seated at the table eating breakfast were two 
men, a _gaijin_ foreigner and a Japanese. 

"Excuse me," I said as I entered. 

They looked at me, startled. The _gaijin_ stood up; 
the Japanese, nonplussed at this demonstration of 
western courtesy, tried to stand up too, knocked over 
his chair, bent over and picked it up, and sat down on 
it again firmly. I couldn't help giggling. 

"Good morning Aya-san," said the _gaijin_. "I hope you 
slept well after all your hard work last night. You 
are looking very fresh and beautiful today, if I may 
say so." 

I blushed and stammered. Japanese men do not 
compliment girls on their appearance; I know that it 
is normal in the West but I always find it difficult 
to respond gracefully. The _gaijin_ noticed my 
embarrassment and quickly changed the subject. 

"You must be hungry. Won't you join us for 
breakfast?" 

Without waiting he brought up a third chair. Like the 
others it was plastic-covered: looking appreciatively 
at my nudity, he produced a freshly laundered 
kitchen-cloth from a drawer and spread it neatly over 
the seat. 

"I expect you'll find that more comfortable," he said 
with a smile as I sat down. 

I felt some apology was needed - even if it was really 
for him and his friend to apologise to me for not 
providing even minimal clothes. On the other hand, had 
I not come to this apartment dressed only in gloves 
and highly disposable g-string panties? Had I any 
right to expect these men to supply what I had not 
thought it necessary to bring myself? How complicated 
it all was, and how difficult to know what was 
expected of me! 

"Thank you," I said. "You are very kind. But I am 
sorry to appear, you know, like this ..." I sketched a 
gesture over my naked breasts as I sat at the table. 

"Not at all! You look very nice, and comfortable. 
Anyway, girls here usually ..." 

I think he was going on to say, "Girls here usually 
don't wear clothes," but decided not to press the 
point. 

"My name is Peter," he said. "I come from England but 
live in Japan. I am a photographer and this is my 
apartment. You are very welcome here." 

"Thank you. I am sorry to cause you so much trouble 
..." 

We bowed to each other. Only afterwards did it occur 
to me that all this formality was a bit absurd between 
a totally nude girl and a man who had (I hoped) fucked 
her several times the previous evening. 

"And this is my colleague Osamu." 

I bowed again, but the Japanese just grunted. 

"Now I must get you something to eat," Peter said. 

He quickly made me a delicious bowl of instant 
_mizoshiru_, followed by several slices of toast. 

"Coffee or Japanese tea?" 

"Coffee," I said, my mouth rather full of toast and 
marmalade, adding "It smells so good. I smelt it 
upstairs." 

"Upstairs. Oh, yes. I hope you found the bed 
comfortable?" 

"Yes, very. Though I slept so well I hardly noticed." 

"And I hope you found everything you wanted? You must 
let us know if there is anything we can do to make 
your stay more agreeable." 

The assumption behind that worried me. 

"Oh, but I'm afraid I can't ..." 

He swept my protests aside. Then I realised that I had 
missed the opportunity to say that the one thing I 
didn't have and must have, if I was to leave this 
apartment at my own will, was clothes. 

"Did you enjoy the party last night?" 

"Oh, _yes_!" I said, twisting my legs together and 
feeling my skin tingle at the memory. 

"You weren't worried at being the only girl? For a 
moment I thought you might be." 

"No, no ... it was a surprise of course ... but a 
lovely surprise!" I added quickly, so as not to seem 
ungrateful for all the nice things that had been done 
to me. "Just me and ... how many of you were there? 
About fifteen?" 

"We were sixteen, weren't we, Osamu-san? Oh no, Jiro 
had to cancel at the last minute so we were exactly 
fifteen." He smiled at me encouragingly. "And you were 
just splendid!" 

I blushed and concentrated on stirring my coffee. 

"How many times did you ... er ... I mean ..." I asked 
shyly. 

"Have you?" 

"Yes. Three times each?" 

"Oh, that certainly. And some of us managed to have 
you four times. I certainly did! I just couldn't 
resist it, you were so good!" 

"So fifteen men, three times each ..." I suggested 
tentatively. 

"And a few more," he said firmly. "Fifty fucks, I'd 
say. Pretty good, eh?" 

"Fifty ..." 

"At least." 

I looked up at him at last. I felt shy, but proud. 

"Well, that is certainly my personal best." 

"Good for you! But I hope we can help you improve on 
that soon enough." 

Always there was this implication that I had somehow 
agreed to surrender my freedom of action to them. But 
maybe that might have its advantages, a corner of my 
mind suggested treacherously. 

"I think I ought to be going soon," I said in a firm 
voice - or what I hoped would sound firm. The trouble 
was I didn't really want to go. A sort of compromise 
occurred to me. "Or is Bob coming to collect me?" 

Bob was the date who had brought me to this apartment 
and launched me on my strange adventure. 

"Bob? Oh, I think Bob has handed you over to us to 
look after," said Peter. 

I wasn't sure what to make of that. Should I be angry 
with Bob? But he wasn't there to be angry with, and 
Peter had been very nice to me. Perhaps there was a 
good explanation for whatever arrangement the two men 
had made. 

"Wouldn't you like to see the video now?" 

"You mean - from last night?" I asked. 

"Yes, of course. Come to the living-room and I'll show 
you. It's rather good. Needs editing, of course, but 
..." 

I stood up obediently, and he conducted me along the 
corridor to the living-room. Osamu trailed along 
behind. It was a big room and, so far as I could work 
out, directly under the big bedroom where I had spent 
the night. Perhaps the two floors had once been 
separate apartments, and that bedroom had been 
designed as the living-room for the one upstairs. 

There was a large flat-screen television fixed to one 
wall, and a big sofa and two armchairs arranged in 
front of it. Osamu took an armchair: that seemed to be 
his routine. Peter guided me to the right end of the 
sofa. It was covered in black leather, which felt 
wonderfully arousing against my nakedness. Peter sat 
down beside me and fiddled with a remote control. 

The video was certainly well made. There were 
transitional passages which needed to be edited out: 
obviously when one man had his turn with me he passed 
the camera to another, and the picture veered around 
crazily until the second man had it under control. But 
otherwise the picture was sharp and well-focussed. The 
first shot showed me entering the living-room in my 
pretty costume a few steps ahead of Bob. I was 
unconsciously making "I want to be touched" gestures: 
tossing back my long hair, stroking my breasts and 
tummy, pulling up my gold gloves and needlessly 
smoothing the tiny gold triangle which covered my 
crotch so temptingly. Then the camera caught my face 
as I took in the scene awaiting me: most of the men 
were already naked, their cocks swelling to firm 
erections as they saw me. I turned back to Bob for a 
moment, obviously annoyed with him; then my eyes moved 
back to the delights awaiting me. Memory came flooding 
back. Soon I was surrounded by a forest of erect 
cocks. The camera moved round to show my back, the 
tiny cords of the g-string hidden in the crack of my 
arse so that I was effectively naked. Hands reached 
out and tenderly removed the sweet little panty 
altogether, while my hands stretched out of their own 
will to stroke the nearest cocks. Soon I was removing 
my long gold gloves, not wanting them to be soiled in 
the cum-fest in store for me. 

As the scene progressed I snuggled back more and more 
into Peter's arms while his hands wandered 
delightfully over my nude body, occasionally playing 
with the decorations on my metal belt. I was blushing, 
squealing, covering my face with my hands, not 
wanting - and yet wanting so much - to see what was 
happening to me on the screen. Not of course that I 
was ashamed or anything silly like that. The Gods gave 
us girls beauty so that men would desire us, and 
bodies perfectly designed for giving and receiving 
intense pleasure by stroking and petting and - above 
all - by penetration of our three holes: our soft 
mouths with their flexible tongues, our deep juicy 
cunts, and our tight muscular arseholes. Not to show 
off our teasing beauty, not to receive into our 
love-holes the male cocks perfectly designed by the 
same Gods to fit into them, would be an insult to 
their divine generosity. If I was giggling and burying 
my face in Peter's chest it was because the intense 
memory of last night's pleasure, the beautiful images 
of cock after cock plunging joyfully into me, and the 
tingling lust surging through me once again were 
almost too much happiness to bear. (Also, of course, 
snuggling up to Peter like that made certain that he 
was as keen to have me again as I was eager to be 
fucked.) 

I wanted to tuck my feet under me and sit even closer 
to Peter, but was concerned that my sharp heels would 
damage the leather of the sofa. "Help me take my shoes 
off," I whispered to him, and he at once slid to the 
floor, his back now to the screen, and gently undid 
the thongs round my calves and ankles. As he removed 
each shoe he tenderly sucked and kissed my toes one by 
one, sliding his tongue between them and making me 
giggle. As I have just said, a girl's main joy comes 
from having her love-holes penetrated, but the Gods 
have made all of her body delightfully sensitive in 
different ways and finding new places to be made love 
to is such fun! It took Peter quite a while to finish 
with my toes - I was glad I had taken the trouble to 
paint them prettily in preparation for last night's 
party - and when we were both concentrating on the 
screen again I was being carried out of the 
living-room. The shots of me being taken upstairs were 
just a blur of confused images - perhaps no one was 
really in charge of the camera just then - but soon I 
could be seen lying on the big bed while those lovers 
who still had enough cum in their balls were fucking 
me hard, coming inside my holes or pulling out at the 
last moment to beautify my face and breasts with their 
thick juice. I could almost smell it from the screen: 
the aroma and taste of cum are incredibly erotic, as 
every experienced girl knows. At last the video ended: 
the screen flickered with zigzag lines and then turned 
an even blue. 

I couldn't wait any longer. I slid to the ground in 
front of Peter and quickly helped him remove his jeans 
and underpants. I looked up for a moment and saw Osamu 
watching me. I smiled at him and patted the vacant 
place on the sofa. Soon I was sucking and stroking 
their two splendidly erect cocks in turn, but I wanted 
more than that: the tickle deep in my arsehole was 
giving me no peace. I forced myself to wait a little 
longer, and gave Osamu's cock plenty of lubrication. 
Then I emptied my mouth, and held carefully in my 
fingers the beautiful rod of flesh which alone could 
give me the relief I longed for. 

"Please fuck my arse. Oh, _please_!" I said to Osamu 
in the high, little-girl voice appropriate for a 
Japanese girl asking a favour from a Japanese man. 
"And Peter, please come in my mouth. Don't pull out or 
anything: I want to enjoy every drop of it." 

Osamu swaggered round to kneel behind me, and soon I 
felt his thick cock, lubricated with my saliva, slowly 
penetrating my anus. Oh, how good it felt as it pushed 
its way mercilessly up inside me, giving peace - for a 
little while - to the tight tube so over-stimulated by 
the previous evening's use. 

"Oh, wonderful! Oh, _fantastic_!" I said, still in my 
little-girl voice, preening his sexuality so that he 
could pleasure mine all the more. "Deeper, please - 
oh, deeper! Oh, you're so _good_!" 

Then I turned back to Peter, sucking and licking him 
and tickling his heavy balls with the tips of my long 
nails. He was already groaning with lust and begging 
me not to stop, yet not to force him to come too 
quickly. Osamu was now deep inside my arse, pulling 
out a little and slamming back in, while I pushed 
ecstatically against his crotch and gripped his 
beautiful length as tightly as I could. 

At last we climaxed together, or as nearly together as 
made no difference. Peter's creamy cum burst into my 
mouth and throat just as I felt Osamu's cock thicken 
as his sperm forced its way up my tight passage. I 
held Peter's erection with my fingers as I opened my 
mouth to show him how full it was, swallowed some of 
it down, then returned to sucking the final drops from 
him. At the other end of me Osamu began to lose his 
erection and slip out of me. Peter thanked me 
tenderly, while Osamu slouched off without a word and 
wiped himself on tissues from a box on a side-table. 

"Don't worry about him," said Peter. "He never says 
much. But I thought you were wonderful." 

"I'm not worrying," I said. "Japanese men are like 
that. _Gaijin_ are different." 

"Yes, but when you were so great ..." 

"Now you're the one who's worrying. It's natural. 
_Gaijin_ lovers treat me like a lady when they fuck 
me, and I love that. Osamu-san isn't a _gaijin_ so he 
treats me like a whore, and I love that too. But I 
must go and wash. I'm leaking. And perhaps you should 
too - you've got lipstick on your cock," I added with 
a giggle. 

"There's a bathroom on this floor. Let me show you." 

"I'll find it." 

It was the same as the one I had used upstairs, but 
not so well equipped. When I had finished washing, I 
put my head round the living-room door to say, "I'm 
just going upstairs to fix my make-up." 

"Fine. Do it nicely," Peter said. 

What an odd thing to say, I thought, as I ran up the 
stairs in my bare feet. Of course I would do it 
nicely! But it was worth knowing that he liked his 
girls well made-up. I took trouble over it, and once 
again scented myself. I hoped he liked that too. 

Downstairs, Peter was waiting for me in the 
living-room. He was dressed, and there was no sign of 
Osamu. I sat on the sofa again: I wasn't sure what 
else to do. 

"Let me help you put your shoes on," said Peter. 

He knelt before me again and took his time over 
fitting my feet into the high heels, stroking and 
kissing them gently as he did so and tying the thongs 
firmly round my ankles and legs. Once again I felt the 
surge of desire that comes from the teetering posture 
forced on a girl by her heels. 

"Do you like girls' shoes very much?" I asked. 

"Oh yes! And these are such beautiful shoes, and the 
heels are so delightfully high, and your feet are so 
small and pretty ... I could say I'm a foot fetishist, 
I love kissing girls' feet - but then there's no part 
of a girl I don't love kissing!" 

He was kneeling in front of me with his hands on my 
thighs, lightly holding them apart. He lowered his 
head and began to kiss my knees, gradually moving his 
mouth upwards along my thighs. His hands moved up too, 
till they were embracing my hips. He pulled me forward 
till my bottom was only just resting on the edge of 
the couch. His lips were now kissing the very tops of 
my thighs and his tongue began to explore the 
sensitive folds on either side of my crotch. He kissed 
my pussy hair, breathed deeply and looked up. 

"Lovely scent, Aya-san," he said. "I do like a girl to 
make her pussy smell sweet." 

"I'm glad ..." 

"Do you like the taste of cum?" 

"What a silly question! Of course I do!" 

"Well, I _adore_ the taste of pussy-juice. And it's my 
turn now ..." 

I let out a gasp of pleasure as he suddenly buried his 
mouth in my cunt and began to lick and kiss its lips, 
occasionally flicking his tongue upwards to tease my 
clit. I could tell at once he was an expert, and knew 
exactly how to pleasure a girl's pussy. Love-juice was 
beginning to pour from inside my cunt. He looked up a 
moment. 

"Oh, it's so beautiful, Aya-san! The best pussy-juice 
I ever tasted! And so much! You _are_ wonderful!" He 
drank again, then continued: "You know, I was here a 
lot last night. I fucked all your three holes, of 
course, like we all did ..." Another pause, another 
quick slurp from my dripping cunt. "... but then I 
just _had_ to suck you and fuck you here." 

"I'm so glad ..." I murmured. 

Now he was sucking me in earnest, my cunt was dripping 
copiously into his mouth, and I could feel my orgasm 
mounting. Well, why not? It was what we both wanted. I 
abandoned any attempt to spin it out and just let it 
come. My hands seized his head and forced his face 
into my crotch as if I wanted to stifle him. I raised 
my legs and dangled them over his shoulders, crossing 
them behind his head and spurring him on with the 
sharp tips of my heels. Muffled cries of happiness 
came from deep within me; and I joined them, coming 
long and loud. 

"Oh, that was good!" said Peter, when we had both 
finished. "I do love it when a girl imprisons me with 
her legs like that." 

"And spurs you on with her heels?" I asked coyly; then 
adding more seriously, "I _hope_ I didn't hurt you!" 

"No, that was especially nice. But mainly because I 
knew how pretty your shoes are and how high and 
pointed your heels! It was very stimulating to know 
that I was being spurred on by such lovely shoes and 
feet even if I couldn't see them. I'm sorry, that 
sounds a bit complicated. But I told you I was really 
a foot fetishist." 

"Well, I think that's a lovely thing to be. You can 
make love to my feet any time you like." 

"May I really?" he said, stretching out on the floor 
and starting to lick my heels. 

"But are you sure you wouldn't like me to make you 
come?" I asked anxiously. "You were _so_ good to me, 
and you didn't get much back ..." 

"Don't be silly! I had a wonderful time. Your 
beautiful pussy ... oh, let me kiss it again ..." 

"Come and sit up here," I said firmly. "Take your 
clothes off and let me lie on your lap." 

So we sprawled together naked over the big couch, each 
petting and stroking the other. 

"Tell me about yourself, Aya-san," said Peter. "How 
old are you?" 

"Eighteen. Nearly nineteen." 

"That's nice. And what do you do - when you're not 
being fucked at sex-parties, I mean?" 

"I'm an OL, an Office Lady. In the headquarters of an 
electronics company in Shinagawa." 

"Oh. Is that interesting?" 

"No. Not at all. There's very little work to do, and 
what there is isn't interesting." 

"So you just sit around looking pretty in the office 
uniform?" 

"That's right. There are three of us." 

"With a very short skirt?" 

"Yes, very _very_ short. The company insist on that. 
But I quite like it." 

"I'm sure you must look delightful." 

"Anyway, it pays the rent, and for food and clothes. I 
have a tiny apartment in Denenchofu. I don't suppose 
you know where that is?" 

"I know. It's on the Tokyu Line." 

"Well, yes. My parents both live in Morioka. It's the 
capital city of Iwate Prefecture. My father has a 
senior position in a big local company. I swore once I 
left I'd never go back there. It's the dullest place 
in Japan. There's nothing to do, and everyone goes to 
bed by nine." 

I caught him smiling at me. 

"Alone," I added. "So I have to have a job which makes 
it possible to stay in Tokyo. I was terribly lucky to 
get this one. The previous girl left in a hurry. Of 
course the company management proposed a whole list of 
OLs who had been with the firm a while and deserved a 
promotion. But our boss didn't want anyone 
middle-aged. He wanted someone young and pretty. My 
father pulled strings with an old college friend in 
the company and got me an interview. I suppose our 
boss fancied me. I got the job." 

"Does he still fancy you? What does he do to you?" 

"Oh, nothing much. Not in the office, anyway. He's too 
cautious. Just looks up my skirt when he gets the 
chance. I make sure he _does_ get a chance from time 
to time. As I say, I need the job. Otherwise, he just 
fondles me at office parties. You know, when everyone 
gets a bit drunk and what happens is supposed to be 
completely forgotten the next morning. Anyway, the one 
he really fancies is Masumi-chan. She's only just 
come. She's the youngest, and rather silly and naive, 
but extremely pretty. Shizue-san - she's the senior 
girl - and I try to look after her." 

"Hm'm. I'd like to meet Shizue and Masumi." 

I gave his cock a friendly stroking, then reached up 
and kissed him. 

"I guess you fantasise about having three pretty OLs 
all at once, do you? In their uniforms - to begin with 
at least? Most men do that." 

"You don't mind?" 

"Of course not! That's what OLs are for - the young 
and pretty ones at least - to be fantasised about. And 
then taken out on dates so the fantasy can become 
real. Anyway, you'd like Shizue-san. She's very 
beautiful and sophisticated, and goes to lots of 
parties." 

"Does she now? Perhaps I've met her ... had her, 
even." 

"Well, she goes mainly to a group of friends that give 
regular parties. There seem to be rules about what 
they do ... I don't know. But they must be exciting 
parties with lots of activity - she's always so tired 
the next morning! Masumi and I have to do her work for 
her. Of course Masumi idolises her. She keeps begging 
to be invited to one of these parties, but Shizue says 
she needs more experience." 

"Why don't you bring her along to one of our 
parties?" 

"I told you - she's extremely pretty. And very young 
and fresh. I don't want the competition! No, that's 
not fair. It's a good idea - I'm sure she'd love it. 
She's never been to a sex-party. I'm not sure she 
isn't even a virgin." 

"It's _so_ beautiful," said Peter, getting sentimental 
in a very _gaijin_ way, "when a girl comes to her 
first sex-party. Looking so pretty and excited. 
Perhaps not fully realising that it _is_ a sex-party, 
and then seeing the other girls going nude and 
fucking, and wanting so much to join in but not 
knowing if she's allowed to ..." 

"Yes, it would be a lovely way for a girl to lose her 
virginity. With everyone watching and cheering her on 
and congratulating her." 

"Oh, if you do bring her, may I be the first to have 
her?" asked Peter. 

"It would be nice to auction her or raffle her, don't 
you think? More fun for all of you, and _so_ wonderful 
for her." 

We were both getting sentimental now, planning a treat 
for a sweet young girl only one of us had ever seen. 

"Yes," he said, "we did that recently for a first-time 
beginner. She was just sixteen. An older friend 
brought her. We made her strip for us, she was very 
shy at first but became more and more confident as she 
came to feel how lovely it was to be nude and 
admired." 

"Yes, that's the way it always is, I think. I was shy 
the first time I went nude at a party. But then ... 
oh, you're making me all wet, just reminding me ..." 

"Let me suck you," he said urgently. "Don't waste 
it!" 

I scrambled into position and Peter buried his face in 
my crotch the way we both enjoyed so much. 

"That was lovely," I said with a deep sigh a few 
minutes later. "You do suck a girl well!" 

"It was more than lovely," he insisted. "It was 
heavenly. You make the most delicious pussy-juice I've 
ever tasted." 

We snuggled up together again on the couch. 

"Have you always liked girls' juice so much?" I asked 
a little shyly. 

"Well, to be honest, I didn't like it much at first," 
he said. "I did it first just to try. But the girl I 
was sucking adored what I did to her and kept begging 
me to do it to her again." 

"And you were a perfect gentleman," I said giggling. 

"Japanese girls are _so_ beautiful when they come. So 
whole-hearted ... so sincere. And they scream so 
nicely. So I kept trying, and then I found I loved it 
too. The taste ... it was like learning to like 
Japanese food. It takes a little while." 

"Oh ... can you eat sushi?" I asked, without thinking. 

"Aya-san ..." he said reprovingly. "I have been here 
more than a few days, you know." 

I blushed at my own stupidity, and changed the subject 
quickly. 

"Tell me more about your beginner. What happened when 
she was fully nude? At her first party, you were 
telling me about?" 

"Well, she stood on a little platform in just her high 
heels, and we blindfolded her, and the auction took 
place. We could all see how very proud she felt as she 
heard everyone bidding for her and wanting her so 
much; then off came her blindfold so she could see her 
new owner at last and was given to him to do whatever 
he liked with for the evening." 

"What happened to the money?" I asked. 

"Oh, we gave it to her and one of the older girls took 
her shopping and helped her choose some party clothes. 
You know, little microskirts, pretty topless dresses, 
sexy high heels like you wear. She didn't have any of 
that before. Now she's a regular at our parties and an 
adorable little fuck. Still only sixteen and _so_ 
enthusiastic!" 

I didn't think I wanted to hear any more about a 
lovely little sixteen-year-old fuck. I was still not 
quite nineteen and the new girls already seemed to be 
coming up so fast behind me. 

"You really like those naive little beginners?" I 
asked with a touch of superiority. 

"All right, I know what you mean," he replied. "I 
think really I prefer more sophisticated girls ... 
like you." 

That was more what I wanted to hear. 

"It's so nice to meet a girl at a party, both of you 
knowing at once that you are going to fuck, but 
summing each other up first, finding out what each 
other's preferences and skills are ... but, you know, 
there's something so sweet about a young beginner, so 
happy in her nudity, I just fondle her lightly, and at 
once she says, 'Yes, oh _yes_, please do it to me!' 
Lovely." 

Searching for something else to talk about, I said: 

"You wanted to know about my colleague Shizue. She 
goes to a special establishment ... she did tell me 
the name ... oh yes, the Paradise Club." 

"She's a member of the Paradise Club?" 

"Yes, I suppose she must be a member. She wouldn't 
tell me anything about it: she said it was a secret. 
What is it? Some kind of disco or night-club?" 

"But that's fantastic! She must be an amazing girl! 
Have you never heard of the Paradise Club?" 

"No. Tell me." 

"It's the most distinguished private sex-club in 
Tokyo. In Japan! It's incredibly difficult to become a 
member - or even get invited as a guest. Only the most 
beautiful girls and the sexiest men get to go there. 
And it's supposed to be a secret - if you are a member 
you don't tell anyone, unless you are sounding them 
out to see if they might be suitable." 

"What happens there?" 

"Well, I know only what I've heard. But all the girls 
are nude, of course, and available for absolutely any 
kind of sex - the kinkier the better, and amazingly 
beautiful." He smiled at me. "Just like you are now." 

It was a nice compliment so I smiled back, kissed him, 
and tickled his balls. 

"Thank you. I like the bit about being nude, and 
beautiful, and available - but I'm not so sure about 
the kinky sex." 

"Oh, come on ...!" 

"How do you get to be a member?" I asked, getting the 
conversation back onto safer ground. 

"Well, the men choose the girls, and the girls choose 
the men. Obviously there are tests. Girl candidates 
are fucked by as many men as want to try them out, and 
don't get in unless they fully satisfy them all. Men 
candidates are tested by a sub-committee of three 
girls." 

"How do they do that?" 

"Well, candidates have to promise never to reveal that 
they were being tested, and successful members are 
supposed to be discreet too, as I said. But I 
understand the man takes them out to some expensive, 
discreet restaurant with private rooms. The girls wear 
clothes, of course, but the sexiest and most 
provocative they can. After dinner the candidate has 
to show what he can do by taking each girl three 
times." 

"In each of her holes?" 

"Yes." 

"Ooh, lovely. But that's quite a challenge. For a mere 
man, I mean." 

As a girl who last night had achieved a personal best 
of fifty beautiful fucks I felt I could afford to be 
superior. 

"I think so. Lots of men fail. Even if they manage it, 
the girls report back to the others on their 
performance, and they may still be rejected. So I'm 
told." 

"You're making me feel as sexy as anything," I said. 
"Let's play a game. You're a candidate for this club, 
and I'm one of the girls testing you." 

"Right. Stand up and let me watch you walk about in 
those gorgeous heels. Remember I need all the 
stimulation I can get to pass the test." 

"You _are_ a foot-fetishist, aren't you?" 

"Yes. A very happy foot-fetishist. Especially looking 
at your feet and shoes." 

It was a good game. He came copiously in my cunt, 
pulling out at the last moment to spray his load over 
my tummy and breasts; then before he could lose his 
erection I took him in my mouth and brought him to a 
very satisfactory second burst of rich cum. Then, as 
men so often do, he begged off fucking me a third time 
while he recovered from his efforts. 

We lay in each other's arms while he waited for his 
erection to recover. He was certainly an attractive 
man: his cock was not the enormous rod a girl likes to 
feel forcing its way into her holes on special 
occasions, but a good enjoyable medium-sized one, used 
with skill and understanding. The sort of cock a girl 
could live very happily with. The rest of him was 
pretty good too. 

"Tell me more about yourself, Aya-chan," said Peter. 
"When did you first discover sex?" 

"Oh, at school. I was twelve. The usual thing. Just 
beginning to masturbate, and having giggly 
conversations with the other girls about whether they 
did too and if so how they did it. Walking with 
special friends with our arms round each other." 

"How sweet." 

"Kissing; occasional little feelings and strokings. 
When we were changing for gym class, comparing 
breasts, and then the one who had a little pubic hair 
showing it to the one who hadn't yet - very daring, 
leading to touching each other's pussies, rubbing 
pussies and breasts against each other, and ending in 
fits of giggles." 

"And your first boy - boys? Or was it with an older 
man?" 

"No, that came later. A group of girls - including me 
- were using the gym after school for sex sessions. 
Very innocent, of course; just getting nude together 
and discovering what lovely feelings we could have 
from stroking and petting each other. And some boys 
burst in. They didn't know we were there: it wasn't 
planned. But when they saw what we were doing, a few 
of the boldest got undressed and instructed us to 
stroke and pet them too. Which, being obedient 
Japanese girls, we did." 

"How charming. And did they fuck you?" 

"No, not really. It started with stroking their cocks. 
That was a wonderful discovery for me. I just loved 
the way cocks strengthened and hardened, and were then 
mine to do what I liked with. And of course the first 
time a boy came all over my hands was a tremendous 
moment. I didn't know what the liquid was, but I loved 
the smell and the taste. Of course that led to kissing 
their cocks and sucking them ... I was so proud when 
boys said I did it best and queued up for me to do it 
to them." 

"And when was your first real man?" 

"When I was fifteen. I believe that's against the law, 
but _I_ didn't mind! He was a _gaijin_. I like being 
fucked by _gaijin_: they're much more considerate ... 
anyway, he saw me coming down the road after school 
and watched me. I didn't mind, I wasn't afraid: boys 
had never done me any harm. Anyway, he was quite old. 
He reminded me of my father. The next day he was there 
again, and we smiled at each other. And the third day 
he spoke to me and asked me for a date." 

"And you said yes?" 

"Of course! He took me to a nice restaurant, and then 
he asked me if I'd ever been to a 'theme' hotel. Of 
course I hadn't, and he said it would be fun, so we 
went." 

"And was it fun?" 

"Yes! He rented a room with a Roman theme. Naturally I 
didn't know much about it, but he helped me dress up 
as a little Roman slave, and we pretended he'd just 
bought me at a slave-market and was teaching me how to 
please my new owner. I _loved_ it! I wore the sweetest 
little backless minidress - well, a sort of tunic, 
really - with nothing underneath, of course." 

"I wish I'd seen you," said Peter. 

I looked at him in surprise, and giggled. Here was a 
man enjoying an intimate conversation with a 
completely nude girl, and he suddenly thought he would 
like to see her in a dress. Well, a very sexy dress, 
but still ... men are so strange. I leant back in the 
big couch and put my hands behind my head, displaying 
myself in a pose men usually liked. I found I was 
enjoying myself. These men - Peter the _gaijin_ and 
Osamu - probably thought that by not letting me have 
any clothes they were controlling me. But I knew, as 
every experienced girl does, that if she is clever a 
naked girl can dominate the men wanting her. The 
deliciously nude stripper dancing and posing on her 
brightly lit stage controls the audience's desire, 
building up the erotic tension, bringing it down 
again, giving them intense pleasure by playing with 
their lust - until at last she, and they, can stand it 
no longer and she ecstatically receives the tribute of 
all those erections: _her_ erections, _her_ property 
to do with as she likes, because she has created them 
... 

"So what did he do to you when you were his slave?" 
Peter was asking. 

"He had me three times that evening. It was lovely: my 
first time with an experienced man. The boys used to 
come just once, and very quickly. That was thrilling 
of course, but Kurt - that was his name - gave me much 
more." 

"It didn't bother you that he was so much older - that 
you were so young?" 

"Of course not! I said, he was like a father to me. 
Teaching me about a wonderful new world. So I was his 
little girl." 

"His Lolita." 

"That's right! And I understand what you mean, but 
every girl knows when she's ready for sex and it 
doesn't matter what age she is. After all, I started 
at twelve. Just stroking cocks and so on, like I said. 
Then I met Kurt." 

"How long did that last?" 

"Not very long. He suddenly disappeared. Much later I 
heard he had been deported from Japan. Some of his 
little girls were even younger than me. But he'd 
introduced me to some of his _gaijin_ friends, so I 
still had lots of lovely dates with plenty of fucking, 
and soon I started being invited to sex-parties. 
_That_ was a thrill!" 

"For them too, I expect." 

"And I started to be offered escort work. I do enjoy 
that. It isn't only the money. It's wearing lovely 
clothes, going to the beauty-parlour at someone else's 
expense, being taken to the best places and being 
admired. Men who can afford to pay for that are rich 
and powerful. I _adore_ being fucked by men like 
that!" 

"Have you done any film or modelling work?" 

"Nude photos, you mean? Sex videos?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, of course I've been photographed and filmed at 
parties - you know, like you did last night - and I 
think the results circulate on the net. That's nice. 
But never professionally." 

"You'd like to, wouldn't you?" 

"Yes - I think it would be fun." 

"Right." Peter stood up and held out both hands to me. 
"Come with me and I'll show you my studio." 

I followed him obediently out of the living-room and 
he opened a door fitted with a push-button lock. The 
room was completely dark with no natural light; but 
after he had pressed a whole bank of switches a series 
of professional spot-lights came on. There was a 
cleared area in the centre with a small platform, 
surrounded by some very expensive-looking cameras on 
tripods. On the far wall was an X-shaped structure 
reaching from floor to ceiling: there seemed to be 
chains dangling from the four corners of the X. I 
wondered what it was for.[24] Peter motioned me to the 
central posing area and picked up a camera. He looked 
at me critically as I stood there, and adjusted the 
lighting and reflective sheets. It felt stimulating to 
be bathed in light like that. 

"Take your belt off," he said, satisfied at last, "I'd 
like you completely nude for these shots. Except your 
lovely shoes, of course. Now try sitting on the edge 
of the platform - lean back - smile - look sexy - now 
stand up - I want a shot of those gorgeous legs and 
feet - now turn and look over your shoulder at me 
..." 

It wasn't as difficult as I had expected. I knew the 
poses and gestures that made men wild to fuck me, and 
it was fun trying them out for Peter and his camera. 
After about half-an-hour he called a halt. I was 
feeling thoroughly aroused and hoped he was too and 
would take the opportunity of fucking me. But he was 
too professional. He went to one of the big closets 
along one side of the studio and hunted in a drawer. 

"Now I'd like you to wear something for me." 

I looked at him in mock astonishment. 

"You mean ... after I've spent the whole morning being 
nude for you, you now want me to put on some 
_clothes_?" 

He smiled at me. 

"Not too much," said. "Just this, to start with ..." 

He handed me what looked like a tangle of tiny straps 
in some golden material. I sorted it out and found it 
was a kind of bikini. Well, I don't know if that is 
really the name for it ... the upper part had narrow 
straps going over my shoulders and clipping together 
round my back as a bra does, but the front consisted 
only of more straps outlining my breasts while leaving 
them completely uncovered. The lower part had two 
straps descending from the waistband to my crotch, 
passing between my legs on either side of my pussy so 
as not to get in the way of anything I chose to put 
into it. The straps were made of a sort of glittering 
gold plasticised material,[25] which went nicely with 
my high heels; and the whole effect, as I looked at 
myself in one of the big mirrors, was charming. 

Glancing round as I adjusted and tightened the narrow 
straps I saw that Osamu had entered the studio and was 
holding a professional video camera. I bowed 
respectfully to him as I returned to my platform. He 
just grunted. Peter went to a CD player on a shelf and 
some raunchy disco-music began. He picked up his still 
camera and smiled at me encouragingly. 

I started to dance to the music. I flirted and 
flaunted; I touched and stroked myself lasciviously; I 
leant forward into the cameras smiling and pouting and 
offering myself. I enjoyed it enormously. The 
bikini-which-wasn't-a-bikini, the bra and panties 
which hid absolutely nothing, made me feel pretty and 
desirable. It had been at least an hour since Peter 
had last fucked me and I was more than ready for more. 
I didn't have to wait long. Osamu handed the video 
camera to Peter, pulled off his clothes and joined me. 

He fucked me in the standard form of a Japanese porn 
video: I've seen it hundreds of times and so I am sure 
have you. He began with vigorous finger fucking, 
reaching my pussy easily between the straps along my 
crotch; then gave me his cock to suck. After a few 
minutes of that I couldn't wait any longer and begged 
him to enter me. He let me impale myself on his shaft 
and ride him for a while, whimpering with pleasure; 
then took control. He entered me from behind while I 
squealed with happiness and begged for more; then 
turned me over and spread my legs wide Japanese-style. 
He pounded my cunt faster and faster, then at the last 
moment pulled out and directed the spurts of hot cum 
onto my breasts. I lay back with a look of bliss on my 
face, playing with the cum and licking it off my 
fingers. At last I thanked Osamu prettily for the 
lovely feeling he had given me, while he slouched off 
without a word. 

"That was very nice, Aya-san," said Peter, putting 
down the heavy camera with obvious relief. "Very nice 
indeed. Perhaps you'd better go and clean up now." 

I left the studio and took the stairs up to the 
bedroom floor. In the well-equipped bathroom I 
stripped off the "bikini" and my shoes, and gave 
myself a long shower, making the most of the sprays 
and their delightful masturbatory possibilities. Then 
at last I towelled myself dry, and used some damp 
tissues to clean the blobs of dried cum from my 
outfit. I decided to put it on again: it felt good, 
looked good - and however inadequate for ordinary 
purposes was the only item of clothing I had been 
allowed to have. 

When I returned to the living-room Peter and Osamu 
were running through the unedited video. Peter 
welcomed me politely: Osamu as usual said nothing. I 
thanked him again for the lovely fuck, but got nothing 
in return but one of his grunts. I gave up and turned 
to Peter. 

"Do you mind if I keep this?" I asked, gesturing 
vaguely at the golden straps decorating me. 

"Of course you may! It looks really good on you. 
Please wear it at parties ... and on dates ..." 

"Thank you." 

"Do you dance at clubs?" 

"Well, yes ..." I said, wondering what sort of clubs 
he meant. 

"We ought to get you a slot as a go-go girl. You know, 
dancing alone for thirty minutes at a time up on a 
platform above the crowd. In that - er - dress you'd 
be a tremendous success. And everyone would want you 
when your stint was over." 

"That sounds lovely," I said, a little uncertainly. 

The two men watched the video and discussed technical 
editing questions. I lay back on the comfortable couch 
and dreamed about going to parties in my pretty new 
outfit. I could even wear it to work under my office 
uniform - no one would know except those whose hands 
sometimes wandered over me ... I imagined wearing it 
on a date, under a short, sexy, low-cut dress 
suggesting the pleasures we would share before the 
evening was over ... after we had eaten and chatted, 
my lover of the evening would perhaps suggest going to 
a "theme" hotel for an hour and I would coyly agree. 
Then when we were alone together we would hold each 
other and kiss; then I would begin by undressing him, 
unbuttoning his shirt, pulling down his trousers and 
helping him step out of them, giving a friendly stroke 
to the satisfying bulge straining his underpants. Then 
it would be my turn. I would turn my back so that he 
could ease the zipper down my dress. As the dress slid 
to the floor he would discover my provocative 
underwear, his hands eagerly exploring its 
possibilities. As I stood with my back to him, I would 
look around the room. He had apparently decided on a 
prison cell or dungeon theme: an odd choice for 
love-making but no doubt he had some delightful 
fantasy in mind. On the far wall I could see a huge X 
in red-painted metal like the one in Peter's studio 
... my conscious mind didn't know what it was for; but 
something deep inside me knew, and shivered.[26] 

Suddenly the doorbell rang. 

"Why don't you see who that is, Aya?" he suggested 
casually. 

For a moment I hesitated, aware of my near-nudity. But 
it was obviously a challenge, and I like to accept 
challenges - especially sexual ones. I stood up and 
walked towards the front-door, trying to decide 
whether to pose sexily for whoever it was, or behave 
naturally as if answering the door like this was the 
obvious thing to do. I opened it before I could 
decide. Waiting outside were Bob, my treacherous date 
from last night, and a very beautiful young woman. 

"Hello, Aya-chan," said Bob. "How are you getting 
on?" 

"Very well, thank you," I said in as frosty a voice as 
I could manage, then turned to welcome his companion. 

"Aya-chan, I'd like to you meet Megumi Kato. Megumi, 
this is the girl I was telling you about." 

We bowed politely to each other and murmured the 
appropriate greeting. 

"You probably don't know Megumi, Aya-chan," Bob 
continued, "but I'm sure you know her company. She 
runs Marucho. They make adult videos." 

"But of course!" I said, too startled to be annoyed 
with him any longer or worry about posing on the 
doorstep. "I love your videos! They're really 
beautiful!" 

"Thank you," said Kato-san. "May we come in?" 

"Of course! I'm so sorry ..." 

Soon we were all seated in the drawing-room. Peter 
greeted Kato-san respectfully, and Osamu disappeared 
to make coffee. 

"I've known Megumi for quite a while," said Bob. "She 
was just starting her career as a porn star when we 
met. She was making some wonderfully sexy videos for 
Marucho." 

"But that's fantastic!" I said, really impressed. 

"Now she and her husband run the company," Bob 
continued. 

"Do you know anything about the porn industry, 
Aya-chan?" Kato-san asked. 

"No ... that is, I enjoy the videos - especially 
yours!" 

"That's nice of you." 

"No, I'm not just saying it. I know people think porn 
is more for men than for girls, and some of it is, you 
know, aggressive and rather nasty. But yours is 
different. The girls are _so_ beautiful, and they do 
such _lovely_ things - I've learned so much from 
watching them." 

"I'm very glad to hear that. Of course most of our 
customers are men. But we like to think that a couple 
could watch our movies to get into the right mood for 
sex. Or a girl could show them to her lover as a way 
of telling him what she wants him to do to her." 

"Especially the masochistic ones," put in Bob. 

"And you used to be one of those wonderful girls?" I 
asked, not realising till I had said it that it 
sounded a bit rude. But Kato-san didn't seem to mind. 

"Oh, yes. I still do take small parts sometimes. My 
husband likes me to keep in practice, and of course 
it's such fun. No girl who has once been fucked on 
camera ever wants to stop." 

I could only gaze at her, fascinated. 

"The Japanese industry is the second largest in the 
world," she went on. "The biggest is the American, of 
course." 

"I'm sure ours is better, even if it's not the 
biggest," I said loyally. 

"Well, perhaps it is," said Kato-san with a smile. 
"And we are beginning to make progress in the US 
market. We have some very good products, and a lot of 
American men are coming to prefer Japanese girls and 
their sincere and honest style of acting in 
sex-videos." 

"Not just American men who live in Japan," put in Bob. 

"And Mr Otani - my husband - is keen to build on this 
by making some really special movies targeted on the 
US. And that's what I want to tell you about. But 
first I want to see Peter's video." 

"What, the one he made of me?" 

"Of course." 

"Oh, but ... I'm a complete beginner ..." 

"So was I when I started!" 

Kato-san smiled at me encouragingly. She was very 
beautiful, I thought: self-confident, elegant, poised 
- everything I wanted to be. If being a porn actress 
made you like that ... Osamu came in with the coffee, 
fiddled with the video machine, and then squatted on 
the floor Japanese-style. Soon there I was on the 
screen, posing and showing off in my sweetly revealing 
costume. Then Osamu joined me. I flirted with him at 
first, pretending not to understand what he wanted of 
me, and then encouraging him to take full advantage of 
my pretty availability. Our sex scene had already been 
edited and I think it looked good - but I was terribly 
shy, watching Kato-san even more than the screen and 
hoping she was pleased. 

"Well done, Aya-chan," she said at last. "Was that 
really your first fuck on camera?" 

"Yes ... I mean, I've been video'd at parties and so 
on, but I've never done it in a studio before." 

"Were you video'd last night?" 

"Yes, she was," said Peter. "She was very good." 

"How did you get on?" Kato-san asked, still talking to 
me. 

"I had a lovely time. I was the only girl - I didn't 
know that was what my friends had planned, and I was a 
bit surprised at first. But I'd never been fucked so 
many times before. It was fantastic." 

"How many times?" 

"Well, I wasn't really counting ..." I said, not 
wanting to show off. 

"We were discussing it earlier," Peter interrupted 
again. "We think between us we had her about fifty 
times. And she was still ready for more." 

"My personal best ..." I said shyly. 

"Now that could be a title," said Kato-san, turning to 
Bob. "_Personal Best_ ..."

"I like it," said Bob. 

"Let me tell you something about Mr Otani's next big 
project," said Kato-san, turning back to me. "Of 
course you know about _bukkake_ videos?" 

"Where the girl is surrounded by lots of men who take 
it in turns to come all over her face?" 

"That's right. Nice, but we can do better. We want to 
make a big budget _bukkake_-style production, except 
that the girl won't just take it over her face - 
she'll demand that they fuck her properly. Everywhere. 
Again and again." 

"That sounds much nicer," I said, since she seemed to 
expect me to say something. 

"You said girls like Marucho videos. I think you are 
right. And do you know why?" Fortunately she didn't 
wait for me to try to answer. "Because the actresses 
are so obviously enjoying themselves. We think - Mr 
Otani and I - that there is an enormous untapped 
female market in the US. So we want our new project to 
star a girl who gets fucked a lot - that will please 
the male customers - but is also in charge, knowing 
what she wants and making sure the men do it to her. 
Do you see?" 

"Yes, I think so ..." I said uncertainly. 

"We'd like her to become a heroine, a role-model, for 
American girls. Get away from all that feminist 
nonsense about porn-stars being only exploited 
sex-objects. And for that we need a rather special 
girl. Bob here helps me by looking out for talented 
new girls at all those parties he goes to. And when he 
told me about you and how wonderful you were last 
night, I just had to meet you." 

I could say nothing. I just sat there gazing at her 
with my mouth open. 

"Now, if you agree, this is what is going to happen. 
Peter will lend you some clothes and a coat so you can 
leave here - yes?" 

She turned authoritatively to Peter. He nodded. 

"And then Bob will bring you to the Marucho offices in 
Shibuya. Mr Otani will want to see you; he's in Tokyo 
for a few days, but he'll be off in California again 
on Monday which is why we have to move fast. Then I'll 
arrange for a screen-test." 

"Of course, you'll have to make some standard 
sex-videos first," said Bob. "That way the studio can 
establish you, build up a fan base. You can do that in 
your free time - no need to give up the office job 
yet. But then, if all goes well, you'll be off to 
America to film the big one." 

"To _America_?" 

"Yes, the film will be made in America. Most of the 
men you'll be fucking will be recruited there. We'll 
build up a story: you will be an innocent Japanese 
girl visiting America for the first time, very pretty 
and sweet, always charmingly dressed, enjoying all the 
sexual attention you get, and the climax will be a big 
party - perhaps for your birthday, how about that? - 
when all your favourite lovers are invited and they 
all fuck you. Or you fuck them. Lots and lots of 
times." 

"It sounds _fantastic_!" I said. 

"I'd like to call the movie _Personal Best_. Do you 
like that idea?" 

"Oh, yes! My Personal Best." I looked at Bob, and then 
at Peter and Osamu. "I must work hard on it. Last 
night was just the beginning," I said. 


FOOTNOTES

[24] It may seem incredible, but I had reached the age 
of nineteen without ever experiencing the bliss of the 
whip. Most Japanese girls come to it quite early. 
Their masochism is triggered by being punished at 
school by teachers who know exactly what they are 
doing: enforcing discipline on unruly pubescent girls 
and at the same time stimulating their latent 
sensuality. But somehow it had never happened to me. 
Now of course I am addicted to the delights of 
masochism and love nothing better than to be 
helplessly bound, begging for mercy as my lovers send 
me to paradise with their agonising whips and canes. 

[25] Leather is classier and feels sexier against your 
skin, but is not so easy to clean properly after a sex 
session. 

[26] Yes, this is the same Ayako who was later part of 
a team specialising in a very sophisticated masochism 
show presented at very special clubs - as described in 
"The Show: A Dream of the Future", _Unfinished 
Affairs_, Chapter IV. What good progress she has made! 
                                                 - B W


[Next in Part 12: Shizue: The Willing Slave] 

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