Bodi-Con

B y Moggi

I was an American in Japan, an alien. To the Japanese people, I was the exotic, tall blonde foreigner. To me, the Japanese were very beautiful and spoke a language about which I knew nothing. However, I did find some similarities which required little if no translation whatsoever.

I'll begin by telling you about the night I went to one of the clubs in Tokyo. The place had been recommended to me by one of my friends in New York. He had said it was a place to meet women, talk and drink.

I took his word for it and went.

When I entered the club, I found myself surrounded by a group of bodi-cons -- young Japanese women who wear tight dresses and pride themselves on the way they look. These women, none of whom appeared older than 19, spoke rapid-fire Japanese, smoked incessantly, and drank a lot. When I walked in, they paused momentarily and crowded around me. One asked me if I wanted a drink. I nodded and she returned with a beer. They started talking again, only this time, the talk was mixed with laughter and gestures. I wondered if I were somehow the object of ridicule, or whether they found me attractive. I decided to stick around and find out.

My decision had proven to be a good one, as one of the girls -- a quiet pretty one wearing an expensive looking crimson silk dress -- came up to me and asked me to dance. We got out on the floor. She started grinding to the techno music blaring from the sound system. In the flashing lights, she shimmered. Her dress was like a flame. Meanwhile, her friends teased her about the American, me. If only I had known what to make of their remarks. Were they teasing her because they believed that American men have bigger cocks than Japanese men? Were they laughing at my apparent awkwardness in Japan being that I am over 6' tall and blonde? I didn't know.

The music changed to a slow song. She became oblivious to her friends and instead decided to concentrate on me. She grabbed me and held me. Finally, I had a chance to relax for a moment. She had moved with such unsettling speed until that moment that I barely knew what I saw, except that it was absolutely beautiful and wearing red. Once she slowed down, I realized there was something innocent about her. She smelled fresh, young, and pure in total contrast to the brazen bodi-con that she was. Her face was that of a girl, not a club kid. I closed my eyes and imagined her naked: all pink and white with black hair and eyes. I almost came in my pants at the thought, as I was sure I would never see that. Instead, I concentrated on dancing with her.

Soon, the music changed again. She was rejoined by her friends. The girls gossiped and teased me with their smiles. They pointed as if they were ill-mannered children with bad attitudes. She brought me close to her little group of friends as if to show me off to them. They nodded and asked her questions. She giggled and gave coy replies and then jerked my hand in the direction of the dance floor, where we remained until the bar closed.

When we went to collect our coats, I assumed I would be returning to my hotel alone. Instead, my little girl in the poppy red dress turned to me and said, "You -- make love?" What more could I say? I had already undressed and fucked her mentally. "Yes," I replied. "Good." She then ground her sweet little ass up to my crotch. I couldn't believe it. I -- an average American guy -- was going to fuck this gorgeous cherry blossom of a Japanese girl? Unbelievable. She wanted me? Too much. I was going to ruin this girl for Japanese men with my big American cock? Too funny. I didn't even know her name. All I knew was that she was sweet and she wanted me to go home with her.

Once outside the bar, she hailed a taxi. We piled into the back seat and drove through the brightly lit Tokyo night. She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. "Kiss me...." she said. I did. She didn't quit. I didn't mind. The car stopped. She paid the driver and bid him goodbye. Then grabbed me by the hand and led me up to her place, a small one-room studio apartment. We had barely gotten inside and shut the door when she threw off the red dress. I was in shock, as she was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed. White skin. Perfectly rounded breasts with slightly pink nipples. A perfect small ass and beautiful silken legs. She was the picture of perfection. Her long black hair fell straight down her back to her waist. I couldn't stop admiring her. She sat down on the futon.

"You, make love?"

"Yes..."

I sat next to her and started to kiss her and caress her. She didn't want that. Instead, she wanted me to cut to the chase. She unbuttoned my shirt and pants. Shivers went up my spine. "I'm really going to fuck the living hell out of this beautiful flower of a girl..." She put her hand down my underwear and smiled knowingly. I wanted to do her then and there but something in my head said it was wrong, as she was asking me to take her.

I rolled her over onto her back and put my head between her legs and started to lick her pussy. The soft flesh of her white on white thighs enveloped me. She tasted the way she smelled -- innocent, yet sensual. She clawed the back of my neck and screamed, "No! No!" as she climaxed. I kissed her thighs and thought to myself, "No, I cannot follow through with this completely. I cannot. She's giving herself to me too easily."

Before I could turn away, though, she had my cock in her hand and was telling me to make love to her. I had no choice, so I entered her. Inside, she was soft and silky. She pulled me close to her and dug her nails into my back like a cat. I concentrated on pleasing her. With each stroke, I felt myself closer to coming. She moved with me.

"Faster...." she whispered.

I closed my eyes and pounded her. Images of her laying beneath me screaming silently raced through my head. "I am taking advantage of her. This isn't right..." Yet, I continued to pound her until I came hard. She breathed deeply and twitched a few times.

I pulled out--exhausted and sweating. She was smiling. I took her in my arms and held her a moment. She wriggled free, went over to her bag and found a cigarette.

"You want one?" she asked.

I refused. I was out of breath.

She dragged deeply and then exhaled a plume of grey smoke. Her smoking was somehow sexy and mysterious. She finished the cigarette and ground it out in the crystal ashtray.

"You do it again?"

How could I refuse? I couldn't. I was spent and sweating, yet I wanted her. She started kissing me. The lack of clothes to remove made everything seem less awkward. Nothing to come between us. She grabbed my cock. I tried to pull back. My mind wasn't allowing my body to do what it wanted. She pushed me back on her futon and got on top of me. Suddenly, I was powerless, yet, it felt right. She was in control of the situation. She took my cock in her hands and started to play with it and then jumped on top of me and slid it into herself. It was as though the rest of me didn't matter to her. I tried to grab her to slow her down a bit, but she was already gone on her wild ride and I figured it was best to let her enjoy it. All too soon, she started to moan and twitch. I felt myself about to come as well. Suddenly, she screamed and collapsed head-first onto my chest. I grabbed her by the waist and held her. She was sweating and spent. I pulled out slowly and she eased herself off of me. We lay together on her futon for several moments without saying a word.

"I want you again," I said in the hope she understood.

She crawled into my arms. I kissed her. She kissed back and started to dig her long nails into my chest and stomach. Soon, she had my cock in her mouth. I was in heaven. Her tongue rolled over the head of my cock. I wanted to come, but held back, not knowing if she would be revolted if I were to come in her mouth. Gently, I pushed her back. She then climbed on top of me and started to fuck me again. This time, slowly. She was tired. I held her as she worked herself up and down on me. She started to come. I felt her tighten and twitch. I rubbed her back. She moaned. I grabbed her tightly and came hard. We melted together. I pulled out. We were spent. Exhausted.

In a moment, she looked over towards me and said, "Again?"

"No. Too tired."

"Oh. You go home now?"

"Yes."

I found my clothing quickly. My legs were like rubberbands and the rest of me ached, but felt somehow like Superman. It was 5 AM. Tokyo was still bright with neon lights and teeming with cars and people. I hailed a taxi and returned to my hotel. On the way up the elevator, I suddenly realized that I had no name to go with the memory of that pretty face.

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