ALL I EVER WANTED 07

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 02: ALL I EVER WANTED
BY MEGUMI KATO AND SAMANTHA WEST

CHAPTER VII

Home Again

I knew, from the moment Mr Otani mentioned it, what I 
was going to do about finding a new apartment in 
Tokyo. There was a small block not far from the 
Marucho studios in Shibuya with at least one empty 
unit, which I had looked round recently when 
pretending to myself that I might one day earn enough 
to pay for it. The block was a _manshon_, which in 
Japanese has nothing to do with the kind of house we 
had been occupying in San Francisco, but just means a 
condominium with pretensions. It stood in a quiet 
street with a Dominican monastery at one end - where 
my idol Miss Mie Takahashi had married Mr Alan Buller 
only a few months ago. At the other end was the 
Embassy of a third-world country, or 
"not-yet-developed country", as we politely call those 
of our neighbours who could have done what Japan has 
done since 1945 but didn't, and now prefer to live on 
our charity. 

The flight from the West Coast to Tokyo is long and 
tedious. My Louisiana friend had taken a while to 
understand that when I begged him to stop, I meant him 
to do no such thing; but soon enough he was caning and 
whipping me endlessly, delectably, with all his 
strength, stimulated I hope by my pitiful screams and 
cries for mercy. There had of course been pauses while 
I satisfied his growing lust, after which he returned 
to work with renewed enthusiasm. His delightful 
treatment of my arse had been wonderful at the time, 
but now made me squirm hotly on the airline seat. It 
was quite a nice feeling but made sleep impossible. 
With Sammy dozing beside me I had plenty of time to 
make plans. 

We all arrived at Narita Airport badly jet-lagged, 
trying to work out how we had lost a day in our lives 
and whether it mattered, and with a three-hour journey 
ahead of us into the city. We also had several days 
off before we were required again in the studio. 

Fortunately Sammy loved the apartment too. We each had 
a bedroom to ourselves: the double-beds we both 
insisted on took up most of the space in each room, 
but what else is a bedroom for? There was a 
sitting-dining room, large by Tokyo standards, with a 
tiny balcony, a nice kitchen, a spotless Western-style 
bathroom and lavatory, and a little extra room as a 
kind of study. Negotiation with the landlord was easy: 
this was 1993 and the efforts of the Bank of Japan and 
Ministry of Finance to let the air out of the "bubble 
economy" of the late 80s before it got too enormous 
and burst had badly frightened those who had 
speculated in property. There were none of the usual 
hesitations about letting an apartment to two single 
girls, one of them a _gaijin_ with, no doubt, filthy 
Western habits. 

We agreed to hire the attractive furniture the letting 
company had already put there or could supply from 
stock. We reached important agreements between 
ourselves on who would be responsible for buying what 
and on how we would let each other know if we 
unexpectedly decided to sleep in a strange bed or to 
bring a lover home for the night. Mr Otani's 
contribution to our joint rent was so generous that I 
could afford to sacrifice the notice-period on my 
previous pokey apartment. It took very little time to 
assemble my few belongings and to collect Sammy and 
her suitcases from her temporary hotel. We paid the 
advance, the returnable (in theory) deposit and the 
non-returnable (and illegal) key-money, and moved in.

I wanted to get to bed early after all the rush, and 
said good-night to Sammy soon after we had returned to 
our new home from a celebratory meal at one of the 
many restaurants in the Dogenzaka, Shibuya's most 
traditional entertainment street. But I had reckoned 
without my friend's excitement at setting up home in a 
new country - and her unresolved jet-lag. I was just 
beginning to doze when the door of my bedroom opened 
quietly and, a few moments later, a slim, naked body 
slipped into my bed and cuddled up against me. I also 
sleep naked - even when I'm expecting to be alone - so 
the contact was nice for both of us. 

"You don't mind, do you, Megumi?" said a frightened 
little voice; "I couldn't sleep, and I was lonely." 

"Of course not," I said, holding her close, "I was 
lonely too." 

She lay with her back to me, our bodies fitting neatly 
together as my hands, instinctively and without any 
thought of what it might lead to, found her tits and 
cunt. My professional actress's instincts told me that 
we must look a charming sight, if only there were 
anyone to see. Possible scenarios for videos in which 
we could star together had already begun to race 
through my over-stimulated imagination. _Kin to Zoge_, 
_Gold and Ivory_, I suddenly thought, would be a 
lovely title, and theme. 

"Megumi, tell me," she suddenly asked, "did you enjoy 
what that man did to you our last night in San 
Francisco?" 

"So you knew what we were up to, did you?" 

"Oh yes! We all knew. Even though he closed the door. 
You were screaming like anything. Some of us went and 
peeked through the key-hole, but I didn't. I thought 
that was tacky, when you wanted to be private." 

"Well, thank you. But yes, I loved it." 

"Why?" 

"What do you mean, why?" 

"Well, I can't imagine getting pleasure from being 
hurt so badly." 

"You can't imagine enjoying having your arse fucked," 
I pointed out, "and yet you know very well it will 
happen to you one day soon, and that you'll love it, 
and wonder why you wasted so much time and waited so 
long." 

One of the most delicious arses I had ever known 
wriggled shyly against my crotch. 

"Well, yes, but that's natural." 

"Natural?" 

"Every girl has three holes to be fucked in, and 
surely it's natural to want to make the most of them 
all. It's just a matter of time, and the right man." 

"So?" 

"But I can't see myself enjoying being whipped the way 
you do." 

I remembered her innocent pleasure in the 
tightly-knotted gold cords which had decorated her 
upper body at the wrap party, but decided it was too 
soon to ask her to consider what it might mean. 

"I think," I said carefully, "it depends who does it. 
Your father and I, for instance ..." 

"Yes, he told me you have this wonderful relationship. 
He's very fond of you, you know. And I'm very happy 
for him." She looked back over her shoulder, and 
contrived to kiss me without losing our comfortable 
position. "And of course I know how you feel about 
him. But even with him, what makes you like it so 
much?" 

"It's chance, really. If you start the right way, you 
never lose it." 

"You mean, you started with being whipped?" 

"Well, sort of." 

"Tell me." 

So I told her the story of my early sex life, which I 
will not repeat here because I have already explained 
it as best I can in Chapter III, and if you skipped it 
then perhaps you'd be so kind as to go back and read 
it properly there. And I told her how her father had 
insisted on my being employed by Marucho as an 
actress, and made love to me, and taken my second 
virginity, all on the same day, which happened to be 
my eighteenth birthday, and how he was the only man I 
had ever met who knew _exactly_ what my sexual needs 
were - _all_ of them - and how I had been in love with 
him ever since. 

And then I said, "So now it's your turn. Tell me the 
story of your sex life." 

"Oh, you don't want to know about that. It wouldn't 
interest you." 

"Yes, it would." 

I inserted the first joint of my middle finger into 
her warm, wet pussy, tickling the base of her clitoris 
from inside. Then I took it out again. 

"Oh, Megumi, you are so clever! That was lovely! Do it 
again." 

"Only when you start telling me." 

She giggled, and wriggled, deliciously. 

"Well ..." 

"Tell." 


[Next in Part 08: Chapter VIII: Sammy's Story]


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


