Tokyo Face Fuck
- 1 year ago
- 27
- 0
Tokyo Symphony Ch. 03 free porn video
Terry couldn’t draw. Every time he tried to the blank page stared back at him, virgin white, and all he could think about was whether Mika would call him. When he had met her, he had experienced a huge spurt of creative energy, and now that she was gone the well was dry. Terry guessed that maybe all that shit about muses was right after all.
He drifted through the next day, pacing around his room like he was going somewhere, continuing his diet of instant noodles, deflecting Naomichi’s inquiries about his progress. And then, around 6 PM, the hour when day declines into night, he got the call.
His phone buzzed, coming to life on his desk with a jarring grinding noise. Terry, who had been lying on his bed carefully examining his ceiling, jumped to his feet. He grabbed the phone and saw an unknown number on the call display. He quickly picked it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, remember me?’
‘Mika? Of course. Thanks, uh, for calling.’
‘Don’t need to thank me, I had nothing better to do,’ Mika said. ‘The stupid secretary just gave me your number now. Impressive job tracking me down though.’
‘Uh, thanks.’ Terry was surprised to find himself blushing. ‘I hope you don’t feel creeped out by that.’
‘Not really,’ Mika said. ‘I mean, I gave you my work name, so it’s not like I made it too hard.’
Terry felt unconfortable at that response, although he wasn’t quite sure why. ‘Your work name? So you’re not really Mika Otori?’
‘I am Mika Otori,’ she said. ‘I’m just also someone else.’
‘So what’s your real name?’
‘Maybe some day I’ll tell you.’
Terry smiled. ‘I hope that means this call isn’t a one-time thing.’
Mika laughed. ‘You’re so desperate for conversation you want to keep talking with a drug-addled bimbo like me?’
‘I don’t think you’re a bimbo,’ Terry said. ‘And you don’t seem that drug-addled to me right now.’
There was a pause, and Terry figured that neither of them knew what to say. Finally, Mika spoke. ‘Anyway, you want to meet up for drinks?’
Terry’s heart shuddered. He realized that he hadn’t felt this way since high school. ‘Okay. What time is good for you?’
‘I was thinking right now.’
The interminable waiting and the sudden rush had Terry feeling whiplashed. ‘Uh, sure.’
Mika told him the location of a bar she liked, which Terry hastily scribbled down in his sketchbook. He then found his nicest shirt, which wasn’t really that nice, threw it on, and rushed out the door. He wanted to keep this fairy tale going.
—
The aftermath of the party, roughly in order:
Yui woke up on Rin’s couch with a blistering hangover the likes of which she had never experienced in her young life. Rin said that she had a hangover cure, but Yui refused it, saying that she sort of liked the novel sensation.
Sakura and Hayato woke up next to each other and hastily got dressed. They stumbled through the perfunctory conversation about how they should just be friends and left, both embarassed. Hayato tried to remember whether he was really drunk or whether he had taken advantage of Sakura.
Natsumi, who had taken the subway home on her own last night, found a folded piece of paper in her pocket. It contained a phone number and ‘When you get tired of pining — Rin’. Natsumi threw it away, then later picked it out of the trash can and placed it in her desk drawer.
As soon as she got home Sakura sat down at her computer and wrote more of her novel. The words flowed freely now, as her gaijin artist went to meet up with the mysterious model.
—
To say the bar was seedy was like saying you might be able to buy a drink there. Clouds of smoke clung to the ceiling as men in torn suits huddled over beers. The bartender was an overweight bald guy with a scar that travelled down his forehead and hooked, almost meeting his eye. There was a small stage with two brass poles sticking up out of it, not quite reaching the ceiling, the brass the dingiest thing in the generally dingy building. It would have looked more at home in an American ghetto than in the heart of Tokyo, but Terry supposed that was part of the draw.
Mika waved to him. She sat at a table in the back. ‘Terry! Kinda surprised you came.’
Terry walked over to Mika, feeling as if she could save him from this place. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Nice place, by the way.’
‘You should wait until the strippers come out,’ Mika said. She had a cigarette smoldering at the edge of her lips and a third-full bottle of beer in front of her.
‘You know, I’ve always wondered,’ Terry said. ‘Why does everyone in Japan smoke?’
‘Why not?’ Mika said with a shrug.
‘Well, in America people mostly stopped doing it because of health reasons…’
Mika laughed. ‘Hon, I’m going to be dead by forty if I’m lucky. Cigarettes are the least of my problems.’ She flicked some glowing ash into the tray. ‘But to answer your question, it’s mostly salarymen trying to find an excuse to take a break. Don’t ask me how that makes sense.’
Terry started to say something but Mika cut him off, leaning forward. He was suddenly taken with her beauty again, the contrast of her pale skin and her dark hair. ‘Now that you’ve asked me about my nationality… what’s an American doing in Japan drawing smut? I’d have thought there was enough opportunity for boob-drawing back home.’
‘Well, I originally came over here to work on anime,’ Terry said. ‘There was some new company that was looking to bring in foreign artists, and I jumped at the chance. It sounded too good to be true, and, well, it was. The company collapsed, all my cheques bounced, and I was stuck in Japan without airfare enough to get home. Fortunately Naomichi — did you meet him? I don’t think you did — anyway, this guy Naomichi, he had a quote-unquote company that I could work for and stay in the country, and that turned out to be a two-man hentai circle. The rest is, as they say, history.’
Mika took another sip of beer. ‘You still haven’t got airfare yet?’
‘Well, I do, but now I’m looking to get another animation job or get a real manga series published. It’s kind of my dream.’ Terry found himself blushing up to his ears.
Mika crushed an ice cube between her teeth. ‘Ah! You’re an otaku. Why didn’t you just say that?’
‘I was, at least. Being around this shit every day, having to draw the latest shitty character getting reamed… it’s kind of taken my love for that stuff away.’
‘Aww.’ Mika put a comforting hand on Terry’s shoulder. To him, her touch was like an electric shock. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be back to all-night anime marthons soon enough.’
‘And what about you?’ Terry said,t rying to grin. ‘How did you get into your… career?’
‘A woman never reveals her secrets,’ said Mika. ‘Anyway, what are you doing without a drink? Yamada! Get this guy some booze!’ The pudgy, scarred bartender poured a tall glass and brought it over to their table.
Terry had the feeling that this was going to be a long night.
—
The last day of school was always an emotional one, even for those who tried to hide it. Yui was one of those, strapping on the usual armour of her nonchalant persona, but today it was particularly hard. She made an excuse to part with Rin and the other girls she usually had lunch with, because she just couldn’t face the prospect of having one last lunch with them. Of course, they would hang out more, but Yui was a realist. High school friends drifted apart.
Instead, she found Hayato with the usual group of boring girls — the one he had slept with, the one he wanted to sleep with, and some others she didn’t recognize. Yui leaned down and pulled at his ear.
‘Ow! What was that for?’
‘To get your attention.’
Hayato frowned. ‘You could have just said hi.’
‘And miss my last chance to physically abuse you?’ Yui punched him in the shoulder. ‘
Okay, maybe not quite the last chance. Anyway, where’s your sentiment?’
‘Drowned in a river when I was a boy.’
Sakura looked up and waved sheepishly at Yui. ‘Hey Yui. Sorry if I was a bit of an ass at the party on the weekend. I had, uh, way too much to drink.’
‘Hey, you stuck around, which makes you less of an ass than almost everyone else,’ said Yui. ‘And having too much to drink is the point.’
Belatedly, Yui realized that all of the other girls, with their close-cut black hair and smoothly pressed uniforms, were giving her dirty looks. They looked like clones. It only stung a little — Yui was used to girls not liking her. Boys too, really.
‘So, uh, what are your plans for the summer?’ she asked Hayato.
He shrugged. ‘I dunno. My uncle says he can get me a job, which will probably be crap, but I’ll take what I can get nowadays.’
‘I’m gonna finish up my novel,’ Sakura said.
‘Listen to Miss Future Bestseller over here,’ said Natsumi, whose airy voice made it clear she was kidding.
‘Well I personally am planning to be a low-life bum for the whole break,’ said Yui. ‘And I could use some help. Any of you guys want to bum around with me?’ There wasn’t much of a response.
Then the gaggle of girls started talking about their summers, an endless recitation of bland vacations and blander jobs. Yui supposed that it was the same as the earlier conversation, but when you didn’t care about the person speaking it just became inane. She tuned out.
The chime sounded for the next period, and that was it. Hayato wandered off, talking with Natsumi, and Yui realized that she had lost him.
—
The elevator in Mika’s apartment building rattled and shook but climbed inexcorably upwards. She had one arm around Terry and was running the other hand up and down his flank. She had downed quite a few shots, but she didn’t seem drunk. It made him think of a scene he had just sketched out for his comic, a drunken fling between Sakura and Hayato. He wasn’t that drunk, but it still seemed strange, life mimicking art.
The elevator arrived at the top and opened into an industrial gray hall. Terry wondered if this was the source of the weird darkness he felt was hidden in Mika, waking up every morning in this gray brute of a building, but that seemed too simple. The feeling of her hands around his torso and her lips on the back of his neck dispelled all thought.
Mika’s apartment was spartan, and almost frighteningly clean. Terry didn’t get much of a chance to look at it, though, as she spun him around and kissed him on the lips, and once again he tasted her hot spice, a flavour he wasn’t sure how he had lived a couple days without. She unbuttoned his shirt as she dragged him to the bedroom, the two of them slowly spinning in a sloppy drunken dance. What they were drunk off of was anyone’s guess.
Terry broke off from her to slide his shirt off, hoping that his flabby chest wouldn’t turn her off. Mika didn’t seem to notice it. The bedroom was as clean as the rest of the place, with a queen-sized bed shoved against the wall so it would fit, but there were some decorations. They were mostly images of her — old school photos, a spread of her in a red bikini and G-string with a come-hither look copied from Playboy, and a poster advertising a play. It was the latter that really grabbed Terry’s attention. Failed Children — An Original Play by Mamoru Otori — Starring Ai Tosaka. The photo was of a younger but still definitely recognizable Mika standing on a snowy street, spouting a punk hairstyle and a cigarette dangling from her lips, jutting out like a dagger. It looked a lot like Yui, and Terry wondered exactly how much Mika had been sneaking into his comics.
‘Hey,’ Mika said softly. ‘Got something more interesting for you to look at.’
Terry turned around and there she was, topless, only a shameless set of black panties hiding her gorgeous nude body. She was there, in the flesh, the girl of his wet dreams, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her tits, full and perfectly round, the best in the country he was sure, if not the world. He remembered the youthful pinkness of her hard nipples from the photos, but here in real life it was a different matter entirely, and he just stared.
‘You can touch, you know,’ Mika said with a confident smirk.
Of course he could touch, because she was no longer just an image any more, and somehow Terry had crossed into the world of his fantasy. He reached out and experimentally brushed her breasts, as though they might disappear. He ran his hands over them, feeling their firmness and their unbelievable warmth. She was touching his chest too, her fingertips running electrical currents through him.
Terry leaned forward and took one of Mika’s breasts in his mouth. She grabbed his blonde hair and pressed him to her, and he just took more of the tit between his lips, licking and suckling. Mika groaned and then let out a cute little gasp.
They tumbled down across her bed, too wrapped up in what was between them to stand. Terry alternated from breast to breast, feeling like he was at a buffet, leaving long strings of saliva across them as he worshipped Mika’s mammaries. She in turn gasped and held him closer. At some point one of them slid his pants off and he was sliding against her, skin against skin. Terry took one of Mika’s nipples in his mouth and bit down ever so softly.
She let out a shriek and spasmed against him, humping his torso, her tits smacking into his head spasmodically. Mika dug her nails into his back and gripped for all she was worth. After a moment it passed and she fell back again on the bed, her flace flushed red.
‘Just from that?’ Terry said, incredulous.
‘My tits happen to be very sensitive,’ said Mika, already regaining her cocky smirk.
Terry peeled her panties, now soaking wet, off of her and took another moment to stare at her gorgeous, implausible body. He stroked his cock a bit just out of instinct. And then Mika wrapped her legs around him and he really had no choice but to drive into her wanting pussy.
Their sex was athletic and raucous, a marathon of hard thrusting and grunting. Mika squeezed her tight cunt around his prick, and Terry just thrust into her harder and faster, their hips slamming together. He was constantly touching, kissing or licking her breasts, an every time he touched them she would squeal with delight.
‘Come on… fuck me harder, baby…’ Mika said, throwing her hips up to capture more of his hard cock. ‘Treat me like your little whore. Harder… HARDER!’
She lost the capacity for speech and let out a guttural scream, thrusting her head back and her hips up as she came. That was all Terry could take. Elation filled him as he poured his seed out into her. Both of their eyes were glassy and unfocused, totally blissed out. They kept thrusting for a while longer, as if they had forgotten how to stop, but the rhythm eventually slowed, until they just rested on top of each other. Terry slid off of her, removing his limp dick, covered in juices, from her well-fucked cunt.
‘That was nice,’ he said. Mika just nodded.
Terry rolled over. The play poster was staring him in the face. He said something just to break the post-sex silence. ‘So, Mamoru Otori? He your brother or something?’ He really hoped he wasn’t her husband.
‘Nah, just a guy I got half my name from,’ Mika said. ‘College boyfriend, wannabe playwright. Kind of a creep in retrospect, but I was a sucker for that type back then.’ She rolled over and saw the confused look on Terry’s face. ‘I told you I didn’t use my real name, right?’
‘Yeah, you did.’ Terry still found it strange to think of Mika as not Mika. ‘So you’re really, um, Ai Tosaka?’
‘Only to my mother,’ Mika said with a laugh. ‘Honestly, just call me Mika.’
‘So, uh, is that just a stage name or…’
Mika straddled him. ‘Okay Terry. Do you want to rehash the distant past, or the v
ery recent past?’
‘I don’t understand.’ Terry thought his Japanese might be failing him.
Mika sighed. ‘We can keep talking or we can fuck again. Your choice.’
It wasn’t a hard decision.
—
The hours crawled on, as the school settled down into its spring slumber. Ryan Bradshaw sat staring at paperwork and unmarked tests. The school year was over, and they were all gone forever. He thought that he should eventually get used to it, but every year he was overcome with the same sadness, that the students he had spent so much time with were suddenly, abruptly ripped from him, never to be seen again, except maybe in a checkout line with a cheerful smile and forced pleasantries.
Yui was the worst of all. She had been the last to file out of the room, and Ryan had hoped for another one of their long, rambling philosophical conversations that usually happened when they both should have been doing work. At the very least he expected a tearful goodbye.
‘Good luck at Todai, Yui,’ Ryan had said. ‘It’s been great teaching you.’
She looked up and flashed him a smile. ‘Thanks. Goodbye, Mr. Bradshaw.’ And with that she had whisked out of the room and out of his life. Ryan had just stood there, gaping like a fish, until his next class started filing in and he managed to compose himself.
He guessed that he had just been delusional. He wasn’t these kids’ friends. He didn’t mean anything to them. He was just a guy who taught them English, another authority figure to bow to or resist. For Yui, he could have been anyone else in the world.
The door creaking open distracted Ryan from his bleak train of thought. He turned, expecting to see another teacher, but instead it was Sakura who went through the door, her rolled-up school skirt swishing around her thighs. Ryan looked up at her.
‘What are you doing here so late?’ he said. Sakura never seemed like the type to stay after school for long.
She shrugged the question off. ‘I just wanted to thank you for teaching me for all these years. I know I’m kind of an idiot, but you kept trying anyway.’
‘You’re not an idiot,’ Ryan said.
‘So, Mr. Bradshaw,’ Sakura said, her lips curling into a smile. ‘I guess you and I aren’t teacher and student any more.’
‘Well, there are still exams…’
Sakura sat up on his desk, spreading her legs. ‘Really, we’re just two adults, aren’t we? Finally on a level playing field…’
Ryan was about to say something, but the words got trapped in his throat. Through Sakura’s spread legs, wrapped in that plaid uniform skirt so many men fetishized, he could see her pussy, not concealed by any kind of underwear but bare and obvious before him. Her pretty pink snatch was shaved bare and was moist and waiting. It looked so enticing, glimmering with youthful eagerness. Most of all he was struck by the fact that Sakura hadn’t forgotten him, that she needed him so much she would resort to this desparate, last-minute, vulgar display.
‘You can touch,’ she said invitingly, in a mature, seductive voice that was not her own.
Ryan reached forward, his hand shivering, across the table. There was a golden barrier that lay between them, built up with guilt and regulation, that separated a healthy student-teacher relationship and sin. But it seemed so, so flimsy now. He pressed up against it and, with a strange firmness, broke through it, slipping his finger into Sakura’s waiting cunt.
She moaned, and they were still for a moment, caught in a sinful tableau, stunned by their amazement that this was really happening. Ryan was surprised that he barely felt guilty at all. He slowly reached his thumb up and flicked her clit, just to see if he could go further. She groaned in response, and suddenly they were moving again.
Ryan stood up and Sakura wrapped her legs around his hips, thrusting her longing cunt against both his hand and his dick, still in his pants but quite hard. Ryan thrust two fingers in her, fucking her with them and rubbing the bottom of his palm against her little nub of ecstacy. Sakura threw her head back and gasped.
‘Mr. Bradshaw…’ she said, managing to choke out words through a throaty moan. ‘I want you inside of me.
Gigi
- 26.07.2020
- 25
- 0
