Ashero Hot Springs Misunderstanding

"General Furukawa is inviting you to a tea ceremony here at the inn this afternoon," the host said.

"Unfortunately, we won't be here," Blackwell said. "I have a lecture to give at Hokkaido University this afternoon. We won't be back until this evening." Blackwell was stepping out of this new world I was weaving. He was dressed Western style and obviously was concentrating on his lecture--away from here. He floated out of my consideration for what I did in my current geisha world. I turned my gaze back to the general and his exposed half hard. I brushed my kimono open below the waist and moved the pouch of my fundoshi to the side so that the general could see that I was in half erection as well.

"I think it would be impolite not to accept the general's invitation," I said. "I've heard your lecture before. Perhaps I should stay for the tea ceremony and the inn could provide a driver to take you to Sapporo and back."

"I don't know, Kerry... who is this?"

A young, willowy Japanese, more beautiful than handsome, had been pulled over to the table by the inn's host. That's when I knew this had all been arranged by the general--with the host's cooperation. The young man was the male whore who should have been with the general the evening before in the hot springs pool. He was in Western clothes, conveniently dressed to drive away with Blackwell when I wasn't.

I looked over to General Furukawa. He had a twinkle in his eye.

Professor Blackwell was obviously taken and aroused by the driver he was being offered. "I suppose that would be a good plan," he said. Somehow I knew that, coming or going to Sapporo--or maybe both ways--the car would be drawn to the side of the road and the vehicle's window would be steamed up by sex. Blackwell had come to Japan to enjoy total immersion in all things Japanese. I was only half Japanese and was America acclimated. I didn't really give a shit now if that's how it would come down. I had cared before last night--ante the general. I didn't care now.

It was amusing that I now was the one totally immersed in Japanese culture, a geisha awaiting to serve the Japanese general in any way he wished to use me.

The tea ceremony room was small, austere in décor, walled on three sides by rice-paper screens. The fourth side was open to the bubbling hot springs pool surrounded by the snow-dusted lush foliage. We were seated side by side, in gold kimonos with scarlet dragons woven on them. Neither of us had a fundoshi underneath. Both of us were in erection. His had grown into a monster. Before they had withdrawn, the attendants had brought him two pills and a cup of water. I had taken the phallus in my hands and felt it grow and grow.

The general was embracing me with one arm, holding me close to him. His other hand had slipped into the opening my kimono and he was fisting my cock. I was doing the same for him with one of my hands.

He nodded to the ornate tea pot and two small porcelain cups on the table. "Do you really want to learn the Japanese tea ceremony?" he asked.

"Not especially," I answered. "Watashi o fakku--Fuck me. Isn't that what you taught me to say last night? Watashi o fakku."

"That is the correct answer," he said, as he undid the sash on, first, my kimono and then his, turned me onto my back beside the table, and brushed both of our kimonos open.

From somewhere he produced an ornately carved and knobby ivory dildo, which, holding me firm in his brace, his slid inside me and worked me with until I melted into a quivering and whimpering, fully open and vulnerable, state, begging for his cock.

When I had come for him, he moved his body over mine, one of his arms under the small of my back to hold me reclined and the other gripping my right leg under the knee to raise and spread it. I reached down, grasped his massive erection, and put it into position. We both were still covered by our kimonos but open, naked, skin on skin, with each other.

He produced a fistful of 500-yen coins from somewhere and flipped them down on the table.

"You don't have to do that. I'm yours for the taking," I said. "And that's not much money anyway."

"I want you to be a cheap whore for me. I think you want to be a cheap whore for me. The payment makes you a cheap whore."

I couldn't argue with that. "Watashi o fakku, heishi--Fuck me, soldier. Put it in. Fuck me hard." And he did. I spread my legs as much as possible, and huffed and puffed as the huge phallus entered, stretched, began to pump, and conquered me. I was a cheap whore for him.

I gave a little jerk and a gasp when he entered me strongly. The general was on campaign. He went on full assault, conquering and vanquishing me. I surrendered totally to the invasion and his victory celebration, moving my body with his as once again his masterful shaft found and slayed every square inch of my yielding passage walls and found, destroyed, and flooded my inner core.

Much better than any tea ceremony could be. Or that Blackwell's cock could be, for that matter.

Embracing the Japanese aspect of my heritage, I was the general's cheap wore geisha.