The hop from Osaka to the very northern tip of Japan was about 700 miles, three hours flight time. I had time to worry a little. This was a small airport and way off the beaten track, but it was the only way to make it across to Adak. I worried that there wouldn’t be anyone who spoke English at the airport. That would be something; get to the northern tip of Japan and get stranded.
I also hadn’t been able to find an inn or hotel in the city on the Internet. There had to be something in the city. Since I wasn’t sure my Visa would work, as it had in every other city I had been to for hotels, meals, gas, I stocked up on Yen before I left Osaka. Maybe flashing cash would be enough to get me gas.
The flight was uneventful, but it seems weird because of the shape of Japan. Osaka is on the east coast of Japan. But the flight took me across the main island, up the west coast, back across the northern part of the island then along the east coast of Hokkaido all the way to Naka Shibetsu. Japan is a beautiful country of mountains and valleys, but I had to wonder how they manage to put all those people in what is such a mountainous country.
I called into the airport and was met with a flurry of Japanese, which I kept answering in English. I think I just surprised the controllers because the controller finally switched to English. English is the language of air travel. All controllers in the world are supposed to be able to speak English. A Russian pilot flying over Brazil would get directions in English. As soon as the controller realized who the heck was in the plane, I had no trouble. He cleared me in and gave me directions on the ground to their overnight area.
Two trucks met me at the plane. Like so many people who work at airports, one of the ground guys obviously was an airplane buff. As I climbed down he came up, bowed, which I returned, then said, “Corsair.”
I nodded.
He turned back to his buddy and began a stream of excited Japanese, to which I could only smile and nod as his buddy kept looking at the plane and me. I pointed at the plane in a break of conversation and said, “Gas,” hopefully.
They both nodded. I pointed to the main gas tank on top and right in front of the cockpit. I also opened all of the lines so that all of the tanks would be filled. As the first fellow climbed his ladder I saw him look at the flags below the cockpit. Oops… six rising sun flags. Suddenly, I felt a bit awkward. But he didn’t say anything. I suppose for him that was ancient history; the movies and so on.
At one point as he pumped, he looked at the gas gauge and up at me questioningly. I laughed and nodded. Yep this beast burns a lot of gas. He shook his head and kept pumping. I watched as the gas tanks filled, the three drop tanks, the two wing tanks and finally the main and reserve tanks. When the gas finally filled up the tank, the ground guy looked at the total and shook his head.
I held out the Visa card; he smiled and took it running it through a reader just like the guy in Australia. I shook my head thinking how small the world is becoming. If we could shrink it a little more, just a little, we might be able to realize that we are all cousins and really end wars. It is something to hope for. I worry that this thought is a pipe dream, becoming cousins and ending war. Wasn't our own Civil War the 'War between Brothers?' Maybe there is something congenitally wrong with humans.
After he ran the card, I asked for an inn. He shrugged. Then I mimicked sleeping, he and his friend nodded and smiled. They waved me to go with them. We all climbed into their truck and they took me back to the terminal. A brief conversation and one of the guys in the terminal made a call, then led me to the front, loaded me in a taxi, for which I thanked him and bowed. The taxi dropped me off at an inn down in the city.
Again, no one spoke understandable English at the Inn. But that didn’t matter. There were more than happy to see a Gaijin at their country inn. The woman took me to a room. I thanked her. Either this was a really old inn or had been built to look like one. There were no chairs or beds and the doors were all shojis, heavy paper over lattice. The floors were covered with tatamis. In all, it felt like I had stepped into a book.
The town wasn’t very big. After dropping off my little bag I wandered out of the Inn and around the town, making sure I could trace my path back.
I guess I had come to the city center, several of the buildings looked modern and large, city hall maybe. There was also a restaurant. I ducked in as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Several people bowed, I bowed back, they spoke Japanese, I answered in English. We all looked at each other wondering what the heck to do now. A man, pointed to a chair and I sat. They gave me a menu, useless. I managed to say Biru, beer to us. They smiled and brought a Kirin.
I threw up my hands after looking at the menu and mimed, ‘Just bring your best.’ The fellow got it and disappeared. Well, I got the best. Tempura was the centerpiece of the meal but the soup, salad, and veggies were all superb. It might have been the best meal I had the entire trip. I was stuffed by the time I was finished. Smiles all around as I handed the guy a wad of cash, most of which he returned to me. We bowed and I ambled out of the restaurant.
I noticed a lot more folks out and about, no one staring, but I suspect all wondering why this Gaijin was there. I wandered back to the inn. It was funny. Usually when I hit some place like Naples or Madrid I had so many plans I couldn’t fit them in. Like Bali, I was somewhere and I had nothing to do; nothing.
I was just sort of hanging around the inn when the woman (innkeeper?) running the place, came out. She led me off through the inn. In the center was a little garden and in the garden was a large pool. I noticed off to the side a few showers and I clicked. It wasn’t a pool; it was a bath, the old style community bath. This inn was either a reconstruction or really was an old country inn.
The woman pointed at the showers. I saw a place to put my clothes. I haven’t been particularly body conscious since high school. When you have a body like mine, there isn’t much point in hiding it, I’ve always said. Take that any way you want to. I went over and started to strip out of my shirt. The woman headed off, I guess to give me privacy. I quickly stripped down and turned on the water. It was already warm, a nice surprise.
I had my head under the shower when I got my next surprise; a high tinkly voice. I opened my eyes to see a cute Japanese girl, a teenager certainly, standing there in a cotton robe. She was pointing at a small stool. Obviously, I was to sit there. She turned off the water as I sat down. I felt her small hand on my shoulder, then she started scrubbing my back.
I was trying to be Japanese but damn, she was a little cutie and I felt the blood heading south. I started thinking about the flight the next day so I wasn't thinking about her hands washing me. When she dipped down between the asscheeks and her finger did a little dance I lost it. The blood really poured south. She came around to wash the front. As soon as she wrapped that cloth around the shaft of my cock, it hit full pressure. A few strokes by her, I think she was still trying to wash it, were enough to be at full size. As her hand fell away she gasped.
Blushing, she quickly went back to washing, my chest, legs, etc. But her eyes never left my erect cock. They were glued to it. Finally, she had me stand under the shower to wash away the soap, then over to the bath. I like hot baths... really hot baths. But this one made me think my skin was going to blister and peel off. I knew that people did get into them and they didn’t die, so I just gutted it out and got in. The nice thing is it is sort of like wasabi, it burns then it is over. The bath was the same.
The heat soaked all of the stress from my body. I noticed the girl kneeling, waiting, trying not to stare at me but being unsuccessful. I wasn’t in the bath all that long when I realized that my muscles were getting rubbery. Luckily, there were steps because I couldn’t have hoisted myself out. The girl sprang up with a towel helping dry me. She handed me a robe and sandals. She gathered up my clothes that she had already folded up and led me off to my room.
Inside, she set down my stuff and bowed. I bowed back. Then I held out my hand to her. I could see she was surprised. Japanese society wasn’t much of one for touching. Finally, she put her hand in mine. I bent over and kissed her hand. When she realized what I was doing, a gallant western gesture, she giggled and smiled. That was enough. I pulled her into my arms. She was surprised but not upset, so I kissed her.
Remembering that the Japanese consider a woman’s neck the most erotic part of her, I bent down and began kissing and nibbling her neck. She moaned in pleasure. I untied her sash and pushed the robe off. Mine followed. The girl was small but she had large tits for a Japanese girl. My hand found one and gently began teasing her. She moaned into my chest as my fingers teased her nipple.
My cock had come back to full pressure and her hand wrapped around it as I continued kissing her neck. She was tentative at first, then she grasped my cock and began stroking it.
I was pulling her down to the floor when she broke away. I was panicked for a moment thinking she had changed her mind. She opened a wall and pulled out a futami, quickly spreading it over the floor. We rolled onto it kissing again.
My hand slid over her belly. She spread her legs and my fingers found her already wet. She might be young but she wasn’t a shrinking virgin. The heat and wetness of her pussy caused me to jump several steps ahead. I went down between her legs. She had a small thatch of dark black hair above her slit.
She smelled of aroused woman, that delightful smell that drives a man wild. I planted my tongue in her pussy and began licking. Soon, her hips were bouncing around pushing up against my face. I tongued her clitoris, teasing around it, then lapping it. She grunted and moaned, her eyes shut tight, her hands grasping at the futami. She was ready so I rose up between her legs.
I was rubbing my cock over her pussy. I could see a little apprehension on her face. She was a tiny girl and made my cock look giant. Rather than pushing in, I brought it up and rubbed it over her clitoris and around pussy, then back down so that just the head was in her vagina. Then I pulled back and repeated, teasing her. Soon, apprehension was replaced with desire.
When I seated my cock once again and pushed, her tight pussy opened up and I was a third the way in. She moaned so I rested a second and let her adjust. When I felt her pushing against me, I pushed back sliding deeper and deeper into the girl. It was lucky I had gotten her so wet because she was tight enough to strip the skin off my cock if she had been dry. The muscles of her pussy were milking the shaft of my cock. I pushed a last time and hit bottom buried completely in the girl.
She was so small her head didn’t come up to mine, even in the classic position. I kissed the top of her head as I began the ancient dance of lust with slow long strokes followed by quick shallow thrusts. She was no shrinking doll, meeting every thrust. It didn’t take long for the cum to be boiling. I held off a little, but the girl felt so good that I soon lost it.
Great gouts of cum blasted from my cock filling her pussy. Again and again I shot a load into the girl as she moaned and writhed under me babbling in Japanese so I didn’t understand the words but I knew the meaning. Finally, we both collapsed drained.
We lay for a while in quiet lassitude touching each other. I kissed her and said, “Arigato.”
She smiled, “Domo Arigato.”
The two of us had just had an incredible screw, at least it was for me, and I didn’t know her name. I pointed to me, “Mike.” Then I pointed to her.
“Michiko,” she said.
“Michiko-chan,” I said kissing her forehead. Chan meant sweetheart.
She cuddled into my arms.
Damn, but Japan had been nice to me. I was glad I had put it on my list of stops, now. We lay together for a while until Michiko rolled away and motioned that she had to go.
“Oh ko,” I said.
She laughed at my Japanese. She bowed, put on her robe, bowed again, and slipped out the door. I lay on the futon and smiled. Eventually, I fell asleep thinking about Michiko and Utada.
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