ALL I EVER WANTED 18

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

CHAPTER XVIII

Conversations

I could hear Sammy carolling happily to herself as she 
came along the short corridor linking her bedroom with 
mine. As usual, she entered without knocking: we had 
no secrets from each other. 

"Megumi, do you think Bob would like to watch us do 
our morning exercises?" she asked without preliminary. 

That is one of the things I love about darling Sammy: 
when she gets a sexy idea in her pretty head, she 
comes straight out with it, never mind the 
circumstances or who else might be listening. In fact 
this idea was a good one: as I have explained, we had 
been obliged to give up our usual routine in order to 
speed up my recovery from the damage inflicted on me 
in the dungeon scene a week ago, and I had been 
missing it. We had brought Bob home with us from the 
Paradise Club but Sammy had elected to sleep alone, 
wanting to relive in her dreams her experiences and 
her longed-for introduction to the joys of 
arse-fucking. Bob and I were only partly awake: my 
hand was idly stroking his morning erection and I had 
not yet begun to think what to do with it. 

"You'd enjoy that wouldn't you, Bob?" I asked 
sleepily. "Sammy and I like to start the day with a 
little fun." 

"Sure." 

I came fully awake, let go of his cock and scrambled 
out of bed. I fished the cat-o'-nine-tails from among 
the other equipment for sexual pleasure I kept in the 
drawer of my bedside table. Sammy flung open the 
curtains and, with a cry of "Me first! Please!" took 
up her favourite submissive posture, looking out over 
Shibuya as she braced herself for the first scratch of 
the cat's claws. Sammy's unrestrained joy in sexual 
stimulation makes whipping her a delight, and I must 
have given her thirty or forty strokes, urged on by 
her uninhibited cries of "Oh, thank you Megumi! That's 
lovely! Oh, harder, please harder!" 

At last she twisted away from me, laughing and 
claiming her turn. She was always too volatile and 
excited to use a whip with the steady, endless rhythm 
which leads to a real orgasm, but soon I too was 
gasping with pleasure. At last we fell onto the bed 
together, petting and kissing each other. We were so 
delighted with each other that we had almost forgotten 
about Bob, until he interrupted our lesbian pleasures 
and begged to be allowed to join in. 

"Whipping first!" cried Sammy, jumping off the bed. 

"That's not fair!" protested Bob, grabbing at me. 

I wriggled away from him. 

"No, no - you're here to work!" 

I joined Sammy at the window, and without a word we 
fell into each other's arms, taking up the position in 
which we had so joyfully received our joint whipping 
in the final stage of our scene together in Mr Anson's 
torture-chamber. Bob picked up my little cat and 
swished it from side to side experimentally. 

"Haven't you got anything heavier than this?" 

"In the drawer!" I said eagerly. 

As we stood together waiting for him to make his 
choice, I whispered to Sammy, "How's your bottom feel 
today?" 

"_Marvellous_!" she replied. "It's tickling me so 
nicely all the ... you know, all the way he put it 
in." 

"Wouldn't you like him to do it again and scratch the 
itch for you?" I asked teasingly. "I'm sure he would 
if you asked him nicely." 

"Oh, I wouldn't want him to take it away! I want it to 
go on tickling me like that for ever - it's 
wonderfully exciting!" 

"It will never leave you now," I said; "now you've got 
a lovely tickle _there_, it will never give you any 
peace, however often ..." 

I was about to explain to her that she could have it 
both ways - that having it all ways at once was one of 
the privileges of being a sexually enlightened girl - 
but suddenly I had other things to think about. The 
nine lashes of my biggest cat sizzled delightfully 
round our bodies while we happily pressed breasts, 
clits and thighs against each other. We had nearly 
climaxed together when Bob, stimulated beyond 
endurance, dropped the whip and dragged us both back 
to the bed to share his erection. His virile body was 
just a tool with which to satisfy our insatiable 
lusts: would he mind if he knew that was how we 
regarded him, I wondered between orgasms, or would he 
be flattered? 

We had a late breakfast on our little balcony, the 
winter sun just warm enough to allow our customary 
nudity. 

"We decided early on not to bother with clothes when 
we're here together," I explained. 

"_Or_ when we're here with other people," added Sammy 
with a provocative wriggle. "It's so much nicer. Don't 
you think Megumi looks lovely with nothing on?" 

"You both do, and you know it," said Bob. "Does it 
ever occur to you that people might be watching you 
out here?" 

"Oh, _yes_!" said Sammy, sprawling provocatively in 
her chair. "I'm sure they do, and it's so exciting, it 
makes it all the more fun." 

"After all, we both enjoy putting on a show," I said; 
then added naughtily, "and it didn't seem to bother 
you on _your_ balcony not so long ago." 

Bob just grinned. Sammy looked quickly from one to the 
other, then begged us to explain. 

"Oh, we were just having breakfast together," I said. 
"Nothing special. I was naked, of course, and this 
barbarian here suddenly took it into his head to cover 
me in honey."[8] 

"Gosh, I wish I'd been there too!" said Sammy. "What 
happened?" 

"Well, we had great fun together, and then I made him 
lick me clean." 

"All over?" 

"All over. Inside and out." 

Sammy looked speculatively at Bob. He easily read her 
thoughts. 

"No, Sammy," he said, "can't afford to do things like 
that any more. Makes me put on weight." 

He slapped his naked belly, which was in fact getting 
a bit fleshier than I remembered it. 

"Anyway," he added, "I think you like the taste of 
something else better." 

"Oh, yes!" said Sammy. She scrambled into a 
cross-legged position on her chair. "I just love it! 
But I was saying to Megumi the other day, it's funny 
to think there was a time when I wasn't sure I liked 
the taste of cum. Now I can never get enough of it. Do 
you think that's perverted?" she suddenly demanded, 
leaning across and gazing at him severely. 

"Course not!" said Bob. "You don't think it's 
perverted of _me_ to want to come in girls' mouths, do 
you?" 

"No," said Sammy, "but it's just as well for you I 
don't!" 

"Well, then ..." 

"But it's not natural, even though I love it so," 
Sammy went on. "And that's what I'm asking: is it 
perverted to love something unnatural? Because that's 
not what sex is really _for_, is it?" 

Bob suddenly sat up and faced her, elbows on the 
little table. I quickly caught a cup which nearly fell 
as the table rocked. This was getting serious - and 
interesting. 

"Who says what sex is for?" he asked indignantly. "The 
priests -" of course he must have meant Catholic 
Christian priests, ours aren't so stupid "- say it's 
only for having children. Of course they've no idea 
what they're talking about, _they_ only fuck choirboys 
anyway, and if we believed what they say you could end 
up getting fucked just a few times in your entire 
life - you know what I mean, just once per child. Then 
a lot of serious people say it's for keeping marriages 
and relationships together. I guess the men who read 
the magazines I write for would say it's just for 
fun." 

I began to guess this lecture was part of an article 
he had written recently, or was working on. 

"What do _you_ think sex is for, then, Bob?" I asked, 
getting impatient with his slow build-up. 

"Me? I say it's for anything you want to use it for. 
It's yours. Your property. You do what you like with 
it, and take the consequences. Look at this," he went 
on, holding up his hand and turning it to and fro in 
front of our faces. "What's it _for_? To start with, 
our ancestors used it for hanging from the trees, and 
I can do that too if I want. But we don't live in the 
trees anymore, and I'm free to do what I like with it. 
If I have my keyboard, I can write an article with it. 
If I have a gun, I can kill someone with it. I can use 
it to stroke you gently till you reach orgasm, or 
instead of being gentle I can be cruel and whip you 
hard till you - well, till you reach orgasm again. If 
I knew how, I could play the piano with it. Sex is the 
same. When it began it was for making babies, but we 
hardly need that anymore and now it's for anything you 
like." 

"So what about my wanting men to come in my mouth even 
more than in my cunt?" asked Sammy, who still wanted 
to know. 

"You like it?" 

"You know I adore it." 

"Then that's what sex is for, for you. One of the 
things." 

"But you said I had to take the consequences. Are 
there any?" 

"I doubt it. Cum is a high-protein food: it's probably 
very good for you. If men come over your face and 
tits, rub it in well - it's full of Vitamin E and 
better for your skin than any beauty-cream. You can't 
get pregnant through your mouth, and I read where the 
experts said there's far less chance of getting sexual 
diseases from swallowing cum than from being fucked in 
your pussy. Even aids." 

"Really?" I said, interested. "I'd never heard that." 

"No, the people who control what we read and hear 
about sex don't want you to. They're afraid of an 
epidemic of oral sex, with everyone enjoying 
themselves too much with nothing to be afraid of." 

He began to tell her how he had tried to cover this 
story in serious magazines and been rejected by his 
editors, but Sammy had stopped listening. She relaxed 
in her chair and shut her eyes, a dreamy look coming 
over her face. I knew she had been suddenly 
overwhelmed by a vision of a world in which men queued 
endlessly to fuck her face, some filling her mouth and 
stomach with tasty nutritious cum, others coating her 
skin with gobbets of rich cream ... I could see from 
the way her hands were twitching that in her daydream 
she was frigging them, milking great buckets from 
them, drinking the stuff, bathing in it. 

Bob had stopped talking. In the silence I too began to 
dream, shutting my eyes and enjoying the morning 
sunlight. Of course my supreme pleasure is different 
from Sammy's, and in my fantasy a long, slim lash 
appeared from nowhere, clinging for a moment to my 
body and then vanishing, leaving no sign but the 
ecstasy of my flesh. I began to stroke myself, one 
hand creeping up to squeeze and pinch my nipples. 
Again the lash kissed me, sending a thread of 
white-hot agony spiralling round my hips. I began to 
sketch in the man at the other end of the whip: 
strong, loving, erect. My pussy was getting wet. Was I 
tied, or free? No, tied would be nice. I was tied, in 
the open, between two trees, so tautly I could hardly 
bear it, my body quivering with anticipation ... 

The phone rang inside the apartment. I opened my eyes, 
and reluctantly stored my fantasy away for future use. 
Bob was standing beside Sammy now, careful not to 
touch her. For a moment I looked longingly at his 
beautiful erection, but it was clearly destined for 
Sammy's mouth. As I went back into the living-room to 
pick up the phone, I saw Bob kneel beside her, take 
one of her pretty feet in his hands and begin to kiss 
her little gold-painted toes. 

It was Matsumoto-san from the studio. 

"I have some bad news for you," she said, with as 
little preamble as is possible for a Japanese woman on 
the telephone. "Mr Nagao was taken ill last night. We 
think he had a sudden heart attack. He has been taken 
to the Keio University Hospital. The doctors say he 
will live, but of course he will take a long time to 
recover fully - if he ever does." 

"But that's terrible!" I said, recalling the 
grey-haired, soft-spoken Chairman of the company who 
had always been so kind to me. "Sammy!" I called over 
to the balcony, "Come over here! Matsumoto-san says Mr 
Nagao has been taken ill. He's in hospital." She 
pulled away from Bob and rushed over to join me; I 
tilted the receiver so she could hear Matsumoto-san's 
voice. "Do they know how it happened?" I said into the 
mouthpiece. 

"Well," said Matsumoto-san, a bit of the old sexy 
chuckle returning to her voice, "they did say I wasn't 
to tell you, as you might be upset, but ... well, can 
you beat it, the old goat was watching the rough-cut 
of your video, and it seems to have excited him so 
much that ... you know ..." 

"Oh, but what an awful thing to happen!" 

"Don't worry, dearie, if it was going to happen it was 
going to happen, and it was the way he would have 
wanted it. Well, almost. If I know him he'd have 
preferred to Do It For Real like we always say in this 
company - a real _fukujoshi_," she added, using the 
polite Japanese expression, literally "death on the 
stomach", for dying while fucking. "Not that he's 
dead, of course," she added hastily. 

"Can I go and visit him? Or would that excite him too 
much?" I added innocently. 

Matsumoto-san's laugh showed she was back on form 
again. 

"Well, dearie, if you put some clothes on for once, I 
guess he might just survive the effect you have on 
him," she said irreverently. 

I blushed, at my own tactlessness, and because I had 
an irrational, uneasy feeling that she had somehow 
divined my nudity. 

"What do you think I should do?" 

"If I were you I'd just stay where you are. You're not 
required for any shooting just now, are you?" 

"No." 

"I expect Mr Niijima will be in touch soon enough." 

She hung up. The phone rang again almost at once, and 
indeed it was Mr Niijima. 

"Kato-kun, you have heard the news about the 
Chairman?" he asked. His voice was dry but there was a 
hint of excitement and satisfaction at the way the 
crisis gave him the chance of demonstrating how 
indispensable he was. 

I said I had, and waited respectfully for his 
instructions. 

"I have to tell you that Mr Otani has rung from 
California. He seems to have heard the news remarkably 
swiftly." Mr Niijima sniffed. "He requested me to 
inform you, and his daughter Miss West, that he will 
be on the first available plane from Los Angeles. He 
should therefore be arriving at Narita early tomorrow 
morning. I shall inform you of the exact time when I 
have it." 

"Thank you. Meanwhile, what should I and Samantha do?" 

"All of us have a responsibility to continue carrying 
out our duties to the company with all our strength 
and ability," said Mr Niijima formally, and rang off. 

I am an actress, not a businesswoman, so I shall not 
attempt to describe the finance package which was put 
together over the next few days to safeguard the 
company's future. Mr Otani arrived, and we had a 
rushed but joyful reunion. Mr Niijima had booked him 
into his usual suite in one of the main Tokyo hotels, 
but he found he was spending so much time at the 
studio in Shibuya that he gave that up and, to my 
great happiness, moved in with Sammy and me so as to 
be closer. 

Sammy seemed to find it entirely natural that her 
father should share my bed. He was too busy, alas, to 
choreograph one of our elaborate sexual work-outs, but 
our sex together was deeply satisfying and I think 
helped to relieve the stress he was under. Sammy 
joined us in bed occasionally for a chat and to catch 
up on the latest news from the studio. While I do not 
think there was ever anything incestuous in Mr Otani's 
feelings for his daughter - and if there was, it was 
displaced onto me, I suppose - he enjoyed watching the 
two of us together. Shyly at first, and then with 
greater confidence, we returned to our habit of doing 
without clothes in the apartment, and displayed for 
him our pretty lesbian love-making, hoping that he 
would find it stimulating enough to see the 
possibilities of constructing future videos around our 
relationship. 

In the middle of all this upheaval, I walked into the 
costume department late one afternoon to find Emi 
there. She had come to return her pretty party dress, 
and no doubt to borrow others. She was drinking one of 
Matsumoto-san's endless cups of green tea and had 
obviously been giving her an account of her sexual 
activities since we had last met. She stood up and 
bowed politely as soon as she saw me. 

"Good afternoon, Kato-san! I am afraid I am being a 
nuisance ..." 

"Not at all, Emi," I said, although she was rather, 
"nice to see you. Did you have a good time at your 
party—when was it, Saturday before last?" 

"Oh, _yes_!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "I was just 
telling Matsumoto-san. It was fantastic! I never knew 
it was possible to have such fun - it was even better 
than the time before ... you remember, when you told 
me what to do." 

"I'm so glad," I said, hoping to be spared a detailed 
account of every fuck. "How long did it take you to 
get out of your dress?" 

"Oh, not long!" said Emi airily. Then her mood changed 
suddenly. She stopped showing off and looked troubled. 
"It felt very different from last time. You remember, 
Kato-san, you were helping me then. I could tell 
myself I was doing it just for you, and for those two 
men who were watching of course, and it seemed so 
natural - and nice. But this time I was on my own." 

"Did that make you feel shy?" I asked. 

"Well ... it's so difficult to explain. I felt at 
first I didn't want to do it - it was naughty, my 
mother would be upset if she knew, it would be very 
awkward. But there was a voice deep inside me telling 
me I _did_ want to do it - wanted to very, very much. 
It was like your voice, Kato-san, the other time, when 
you were murmuring in my ear, telling me 'Take it off. 
Be completely nude. You know you want to.' So at last 
I decided the voice that sounded like your voice must 
be right. So I took my dress off, and it felt so 
wonderful that then I _knew_ it was right - the voice, 
I mean. Something that felt as wonderful as that 
couldn't possibly be wrong. At that moment I never 
wanted to wear clothes again, ever! But then I saw the 
men were just staring at me without moving, and for a 
moment I thought perhaps I'd disappointed them, that 
they didn't find me sexy enough. So I began to stroke 
myself - you know, sending messages like you told me, 
saying 'I want to be touched'. And then - oh, then 
they took me ..." 

Emi's eyes were closed as she relived the joy of it 
all. Then she had another sudden change of mood. 

"Why do you think I felt that?" she asked. "You know, 
that I didn't want to and yet I did?" 

"Most of us feel like that at first," I said. "But 
you've been lucky. You listened to the inner voice 
that was telling you the truth about yourself, and 
there's no going back for you now. Some girls are too 
frightened to listen, or there's no voice for them to 
hear, and they never know what you now know." 

"But where does the voice come from?"

"Who can tell? From the Gods, perhaps?" 

Emi looked at me oddly, wondering if I was joking 
about something outside her experience. 

"The other night I remembered something," she said 
suddenly. "In bed. Something that happened years ago. 
With my brother. He's years older than me, and I don't 
see him much now - he goes to a university in Nagoya." 

"Did he ... do anything to you?" I asked cautiously. 
This was getting rather complicated. 

"No, not like that ... it was just, you know, 
something I felt ... I was taking my bath before 
dinner - of course I never used the hot water normally 
till he'd finished but he wasn't back from school and 
my mother told me to go ahead. And while I was in the 
bath he came home. I didn't realise till I heard the 
rattle of the door to the undressing room. Of course 
he saw my clothes there and called out, 'Are you in 
there? Hurry up! Get out!'" 

"What did you do?" 

"Well, of course I started apologising and scrambling 
out of the tub the moment I heard him, and then the 
door to the bathroom slid open and he was looking at 
me standing there naked." 

"And did he ...?" 

"I don't think he was interested, you know, _that_ 
way. I wasn't developed then anyway, and had only just 
started having my periods. But I felt something 
extraordinary, a wonderful tingling feeling all over 
my body. For weeks I tried to have it again, when I 
was in the bath or in bed. I imagined a handsome man - 
not my brother, of course - looking at me as I stood 
naked before him. But it got more and more difficult 
to make the feeling come and in the end I forgot about 
it. Until the other evening. When I was showing myself 
nude to all those men, I had the feeling again. And 
afterwards I remembered where it came from." 

"There you are, you see," I said, "that's the inner 
voice telling you the truth about yourself and about 
what you really want to do." 

"Did that happen to you, Kato-san?" Emi asked shyly. 
"Did you have an inner voice which had been waiting 
for years like mine?" 

"Yes," I said thoughtfully, "something happened to me 
too when I was beginning to have sexual feelings. But 
it was a different thing." 

"Oh, please tell me! After all, I told you about 
mine." 

"Another time, perhaps," I said. 

It was too soon to tell Emi about my love of the whip; 
she was too young to understand. One day it would be 
offered to her, and she would make it part of her 
sexual life, or not, according to what her inner voice 
told her. At least she had learnt to listen to the 
voice, and to trust what it told her. She already had 
the happiness of knowing one beautiful truth about 
herself and her desires. 

"Did the party go on very late?" I asked, briskly 
changing the subject. 

"Well, yes, _rather_, because ... I was just telling 
Matsumoto-san before you came ... when the party was 
ending a group of men invited me to go on somewhere 
with them, and we went to an apartment, and - oh, I 
had such a _wonderful_ time!" 

"What did they do to you?" I asked, curious despite my 
other preoccupations. 

"They said I needed more experience in taking them, 
you know, in my mouth, and of course I agreed because 
I _did_, and they were so kind - they showed me how to 
suck and lick them nicely, and even how to swallow 
them right down my throat, though I found that a bit 
difficult but of course I kept practising. And do you 
know, I discovered something so exciting - every man's 
cum tastes different! Isn't that just fantastic? 
Wouldn't it be wonderful to go through a whole party 
taking every man in my mouth so's to compare them 
all?" 

Emi giggled naughtily. She was learning fast, I 
thought. 

"Yes, dearie," said Matsumoto-san rather impatiently, 
"a well-known fact. Still," she added quickly as Emi 
looked crushed, "it's lovely when you first find out, 
isn't it?" 

"Oh, yes!" said Emi, cheerful again. "But Kato-san, I 
wanted to thank you so _very_ much for letting me see 
your video last time! You were incredible! You know, I 
think I can remember every scene. I go through them 
when I'm in bed, imagining them happening to me. I do 
so wish I could do what you do!" 

I thanked her; and then kissed her, because she 
reminded me so of myself the first time I ever saw a 
fuck video. I too had dreamt of becoming an actress, 
and had relived all the scenes - though mostly with my 
lover of the time, not just playing with myself in bed 
like Emi. 

"But I wanted to tell you," Emi was rattling on, 
"something strange happened. While I was watching the 
video, a man came into the theatre and sat down beside 
me. I did so hope he wasn't going to talk to me or 
anything, because I wanted so much to watch what _you_ 
were doing - you know, trying to remember everything 
so I could imagine it all again later, like I told 
you. But he just smiled at me, then sat there quietly 
watching the screen with me, till the video ended and 
the lights came up." 

"Who was it?" I couldn't help asking - even though I 
had already guessed. 

"Well, he was quite elderly with grey hair, but when 
he started talking he had such a lovely voice, soft 
and gentle, I felt I couldn't refuse him anything." 

"I know," I said. 

"So what did he do to you?" asked Matsumoto-san 
bluntly, beginning to add "the old goat" until I 
shushed her. 

"Well, of course he asked me who I was and what I was 
doing there, and I told him and explained that we were 
friends, Kato-san - I hope you don't mind my saying 
that because it's true in a way, isn't it? Then he 
asked how old I was and I told him -" 

"The truth?" 

"Yes," said Emi, blushing. Then he said we'd have to 
leave the little theatre because the operator wanted 
to pack up, and he took me down the corridor to a nice 
office and then into a beautiful room with armchairs 
and TV and hi-fi and everything." 

"So you sat on the sofa together ..." 

"Yes, and I told him about my party and how you'd been 
so wonderfully kind and lent me a dress. And he asked 
me to stand up and show him, and he said how nice it 
looked on me - which it _did_, you remember, it was 
the one I've got here, the one with just the gold rope 
over my breasts. And then he asked me very nicely if I 
was looking forward to taking it off at the party, and 
because I was somehow feeling warm and comfortable 
with him, before I knew what I'd done I said yes and 
would he like to see how I was going to do it." 

"So he said yes." 

"That's right, he did! And I undressed for him the way 
you taught me, you know - slowly, and letting the 
dress fall backwards off my shoulders. Then somehow it 
seemed natural to do what you said, walking up to him, 
you remember, and saying those things about hoping 
he'd be gentle with me." She sighed happily. "Oh, and 
he _was_!" 

Matsumoto-san and I looked at each other, horrified 
and yet elated as well. Emi must never know, of 
course, but she must have been the last girl Mr Nagao 
had fucked before he was incapacitated by his heart 
attack - perhaps the last girl he would ever fuck. The 
excitement must just have been too much for him. 

"How many times?" asked Matsumoto-san. 

"Twice," said Emi with a little blush. "First in my 
mouth, and then - you know, here." 

She put her hand on her cunt through the heavy blue 
material of her school uniform skirt. One day Emi 
would have to learn the language of love, but this 
wasn't the moment to teach her. 

"Oh, I do like doing it with older men!" she said 
happily, her eyes dancing as she looked from one to 
the other of us. "I didn't expect I would, but I do. 
They know so much more and they take their time." 

Well, as Mr Otani's Lolita I was hardly in a position 
to disagree. 

"Do you know what I did?" she went on. "I know you'll 
think it's naughty of me, but I waited till I was 
alone in the house and then called the man I met 
outside Shibuya Station - you remember, I showed you 
his business card - and said I wanted to be available 
for 'assisted dating'. And I went to see him in his 
office." 

"What happened?" I asked, when she paused, waiting a 
little defiantly for our reaction. 

"Well, he took down my details and measure­ments, of 
course, and then told me to undress for some 
photographs. I didn't realise he'd want that, I 
thought - you know, just a photo like an identity 
card. But he photographed me taking off my school 
uniform, and then he handed me such a pretty little 
pair of lacy white panties, and I posed for him with 
them on, and taking them off, and then with nothing 
... Ohh, it was lovely!" 

"You enjoyed posing for the camera, did you?" asked 
Matsumoto-san. 

"Oh, _yes_! It was wonderful! Rather like the tingly 
feeling I get from the men looking at me when I'm 
naked at parties, but more ... as if the camera were 
stroking me, very delicately. Is that the way it is 
for you, Kato-san?" she asked suddenly. 

"Yes," I said thoughtfully, "I suppose it is like 
that. There's something special about being 
photographed completely nude. As if the lens were a 
window into another world, and all the people there 
were looking at me through the window without my 
knowing ... and yet of course I do know, or guess, 
that they're there, and how much they want me ..." 

I was transported back to the cramped bathroom of my 
mother's little house, where I had once teased myself 
by nightly imagining that the mirror was a window 
through which men secretly admired my developing body. 
As of course they had done only the other day, when I 
stood innocently naked in the undressing-room of the 
Paradise Club. 

"Oh, I so wish I could do what you do, Kato-san!" Emi 
was saying, making no secret of her growing schoolgirl 
crush on me. "Your video - I didn't just enjoy 
watching you naked and making love - I loved feeling 
how much you were enjoying it too. Doing it with the 
camera watching, I mean. Oh, I want to do that! It 
must be lovely. It's so unfair that I have to wait so 
long. The man who took my photos said I was already 
developed enough to pose nude for the magazines. He 
said if I wanted he could arrange for it, and no one 
would guess I was underage. Isn't that wonderful? He 
said I could accept presents from my _enjo kosai_ 
dates, just like you told me; but I couldn't be paid 
yet for the nude pictures." 

"_He'll_ make a lot of money out of selling them," 
said Matsumoto-san rather grimly. 

"But I don't _mind_!" said Emi. "I want him to be 
pleased with me. I don't want money, I just want to be 
photographed with nothing on and making love because - 
oh, because I want to do it more than anything else in 
the world!" 

"But what about your mother?" I asked suddenly, 
remembering the trouble she had been in for coming 
home so late from her first party. "Won't she be 
annoyed if you are out late so often?" 

"Oh dear," said Emi, "all this _oyabare_[9] is so 
difficult, and so unfair. But I persuaded her that if 
I was very good during the week I could go out on 
Saturday with friends, and sometimes stay overnight if 
I tell her where I am. Well, that's not really a lie 
because that's what I do anyway, though not the way 
she thinks. I have to leave her a phone-number of 
course but I've discovered lots of my school-friends 
have the same problem with their parents, and they've 
arranged together to take turns answering calls." 

"What about these dates you're hoping for? Won't they 
keep you out late?" 

"I told the man at the agency I would only be free for 
a couple of hours straight after school. He said that 
was all right, and lots of his customers liked it that 
way." 

"Now, Emi," said Matsumoto-san briskly, obviously 
tired of her prattle, "we're a bit busy here so you 
must run along." 

"Oh, but can't I borrow some more nice dresses?" she 
begged. 

"Yes, of course, I'd forgotten that's what you really 
came for. What sort of thing do you want?" 

"Well," said Emi, who had obviously given a lot of 
thought to it, "for this Saturday's party can I have 
another dress which shows my breasts? That was so nice 
the other week. Lots of men wanted me even before I 
took the dress off. It was so nice to stand there, 
teasing a bit you know, pretending I didn't know what 
they wanted. And my friend at the dating agency 
thought I'd get offers quite soon and until I start 
being given presents can I have one or two pretty 
things to wear on dates? He said _very_ tight and 
_very_ short would be best ..." 

Once Emi had left, delightedly bearing off her booty 
in a couple of the company's discreet carrier bags, I 
looked seriously at Matsumoto-san. 

"I'm a bit worried about that girl. Do you think she 
really has a vocation for our kind of work?" 

"No," she said decisively. "I've seen plenty of girls 
like Emi. The sex industry must get through thousands 
of them every month. She's in love with sex, of 
course, which is wonderful for her while it lasts. 
She's making sure she gets plenty of it, which shows 
she has guts and determination. She loves showing off 
to an audience. But she hasn't got the star quality 
you have, and never will have." 

"So what will happen to her?" 

"Oh, she'll get modelling jobs. She's desperate to do 
that. The camera gives her a thrill like nothing else. 
She'll be in the soft porn magazines, the little 
darling: showing herself off, hoping to catch the eye 
of someone with a career to offer her. If she's lucky 
she'll be given parts in quickie sex videos by some of 
our less particular competitors - and they'll end up 
being remaindered on the stalls outside the stores in 
Akihabara. Then she'll be dropped. She won't be 
interesting anymore and there'll be even newer girls 
with even fresher young bodies to show off, eager to 
get a start and try their luck." 

"Poor Emi." 

"Oh, I don't know," said Matsumoto-san, pouring hot 
water into her teapot. "She'll have a lovely time 
while it lasts. And when she's finished she'll have 
some beautiful memories of how she was once a pretty 
nude model who could have any man she wanted. I think 
it's sweet," Matsumoto-san went on sentimentally, "the 
way these girls are so keen. Isn't it nice our sex 
industry is so big it can find room for them all - for 
a while at least? I sometimes think there's hardly a 
girl in the country who doesn't start dreaming of a 
career as a nude model from the moment her breasts 
start to grow." 

"Yes," I said, remembering. "I thought of nothing else 
in bed for years. Till my lover showed me my first sex 
videos, and I discovered my real vocation was for 
acting not modelling." 

"And of course you longed to show yourself off 
_completely_ nude, didn't you?" 

"Well, of _course_. What's the point, otherwise?" 

"Exactly what they all dream of doing, and why not? 
It's so lovely for them, now the battle over 
_hea-nuudo_ has been won." 

Matsumoto-san meant the shots, previously banned under 
the censorship laws, of completely nude ("hair-nude") 
girls, prettily displaying the crisp curls of their 
pubic hair the way the Gods intended them to do. She 
seemed quite overcome at the thought of the happiness 
the removal of this restriction had brought to so many 
excited girls, modestly proud of their nudity and 
eager to display it to the camera fully and naturally. 
We in the sex video industry were fighting for the 
same freedom to show fucking in all its true beauty, 
but without success so far. It would come. 

"But if you're right that Emi doesn't have a future in 
the modelling business," I asked, "won't she be 
awfully upset?" 

Matsumoto-san blew her nose and poured herself some 
tea. 

"Well, perhaps, but as I said she's got plenty of 
determination. She can find work in the clubs and 
soaplands if she wants. Or some kind of low-level 
office work, and keep sex for parties and dates. One 
day she'll end up as an ordinary Japanese wife, hoping 
an undeserving husband will never realise how she 
comes to be so good at sex. Sometimes she'll pull the 
old magazines out from wherever she hides them, and 
look at the pictures and remind herself of what she 
once was. Oh, well. We've been lucky so far, you and 
I. Have some more tea." 


FOOTNOTE

[8] If you want to know more about this incident, 
you’ll find it in Chapter V of _We Always Do It for 
Real_, the book Bob and I wrote about my earlier 
sexual experiences. 

[9] Literally "exposure to parents", usually the 
mother, or being found out by her. But it doesn't 
imply guilt or punishment: rather damage to a 
relationship. In an interesting article in the _Asahi 
Shimbun_ newspaper of 9 September 1993 (evening 
edition), a professor from the Tokyo Metropolitan 
University who has been researching the sex-life of 
the modern Japanese schoolgirl (and you mean he 
actually gets _paid_ for doing that?) comments on her 
role-playing skill: she is an underage sex-kitten 
eager to improve her technique by learning from an 
experienced man when she goes on _enjo kosai_ 
(assisted dating) assignations; she is a cute little 
darling just discovering the joys of showing herself 
off nude when she poses for the camera; she is an 
experienced little whore when she wiggles her _no-pan_ 
(pantyless) bottom in her provocative micro-skirted 
_bodikon_ dress (see Chapter XV) on the street or in 
discos, ready to give herself on the spot to anyone 
who wants her; and she is a never-been-kissed virgin 
when she is helping her mother around the house or 
with the shopping. For most Japanese there is no 
underlying reality. Role-playing and reality are the 
same thing: you are what you are pretending to be. 
_Oyabare_ is shameful because it implies a failure in 
role-playing skill. The Professor calculates that 
around 10,000 underage schoolgirls are active in the 
Tokyo sex trade, earning perhaps Y20,000 an evening 
for a couple of hours' work posing nude in 
photographers' studios or being fucked on "assisted 
dates" - or, as I could have told the Professor, 
performing at discreet sex-clubs where sweet underage 
girls willingly satisfy every taste, the more 
perverted the more eagerly. I reckon 10,000 is only 
about 5 percent of Tokyo schoolgirls aged between 
puberty and 16. There must be many, many more than 
that active in the sex trade, bless them. More 
research needed, Professor!         - Bob Williams 

 
[Next in Part 19: Chapter XIX: Restructuring] 


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

