index


Message-ID: <30550asstr$991433405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RAM <R_A_M@bigfoot.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Sunflower Alley: Mamasan
Date: Fri,  1 Jun 2001 18:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Comments may be sent to R_A_M@bigfoot.com

The story is part of a series. To read the entire series, go to
http://www.bigfoot.com/~R_A_M , a non-commercial site.
-----------------------

Mamasan
(c) 1998-1999 by R.A. Mendoza
   
In the alley behind the Wonderland, I knock at the door where I stayed 
with Betty.  

I don't really like Betty; she's too chubby, she doesn't smile, and as
far as personality is concerned, God was short that day. Betty's primary 
virtue, her only virtue, for me, is that she is a young cock sucker that 
swallows. Any girl that swallows is a treasure in my book. Even if 
Betty is a little heavy, isn't friendly, and lacks social graces, she
has the virtue that I prize above all. I will always excuse her
shortcomings. A cock sucker, give me a cock sucker, always, all the
time.  

A mamasan, dressed in a formal kimono, opens the door. She cocks her 
head slightly, and a question forms on her face. 

"Jo-san stay?" I ask the lovely old woman. 

"No stay," she answers. 

"Gomenasai," I apologize, and start to walk away. 

"GI!" 

I turn and look into smiling eyes; even in the shadows, I can detect 
wrinkles at the corners. The old lady is short, under five feet, with a 
small matronly body that fills her kimono very nicely. There's 
something about a Japanese woman wearing a kimono, something "old 
country," that brings out the sentimentality in me. Emiko often wore a 
kimono; I loved her in a kimono.  

I love the way a kimono makes a woman walk, with teeny pigeon-toed 
steps. I especially love those little white slippers, tabi, with the 
indentation between the big toe and the second toe, designed to 
properly fit the thong in those sensible sandal-like wooden shoes. A 
Japanese woman in a kimono, wide hard sash around her middle, small 
feet encased in dainty tabi, is the most feminine creature on earth. 

"You come in, dozo. I be nice, you," she says, bowing her head slightly 
at me. 

Even if she is kind of old, the mamasan with her straight black hair 
streaked with gray, and pulled-back into a knot on the back of her head, 
looks nice. She is easily over fifty, I'd guess, but I don't care. I
love Japanese women, especially a friendly Japanese woman in a kimono.  

I step into the entryway. The mamasan steps out of her footwear, up 
onto the wooden floor; she slips white covered feet into slippers. I 
remove my shoes and join her. Surely, by "I be nice, you," she is not 
proposing sex with me? Probably, she will go find a younger girl to 
take care of me, I figure. Still, there is a chance that I might get
her. 

It is something that I relish. Older women. God, I love older women. 
What is wrong with me? I am turning into Dell, finding the ugliest 
women to fuck. But, older women aren't necessarily ugly, they are just 
old. That's what I like about them, their oldness, their experience,
their gentle charm, their mature feminine ways. Older women, like the 
mamasans at the Hideaway and the Cest si Bon, and at Honey Bee's 
and Martha's, seem to appreciate me; they never treat me bad. 

The mamasan pads ahead of me, past Betty's room, past the room next 
to it and stops in front of a room with a real door. She tugs it open, 
steps out of her slippers and shuffles in. She looks back at me and 
beckons me in. I follow her into a small, neat, dimly lighted, room with 
a futon on the floor.  

"My room. You lie down, dozo."  

I settle onto the futon. I lie on my back, resting my head on the small 
hard rice pillow. "Mamasan have to work," the old lady says, as she 
kneels at my side, by my hips. She reaches for my zipper and undoes my 
fly. She moves her hand inside and feels my cock through my jockeys, 
squeezing it.  

"Nice. You nice boy," she says, with some excitement, I think. She 
unbuckles my belt. She tugs at my pants; I raise my hips to help her;
she deftly slides them down and off over my feet. My shorts quickly 
follow, and I am wearing only shirt and socks. 

Still all bundled up, enchanting, in her kimono, still wearing her obi, 
the wide stiff sash like belt encircling her waist, she kneels between
my legs.  

"Mamasan have to work. You nice boy. Mamasan like to work." She 
smiles and chuckles quietly.  

She takes my cock in her hands; she rolls it between her little
fingers, like she is molding dough. Down onto her elbows she goes, her 
stomach flat on the futon; she stretches her legs out behind her. I see, 
over her kimono covered ass, white tabi slippered feet, way back 
behind my own feet. Her gray head dips, expertly, into my lap. She 
sucks my cock deep into her mouth like a thick giant soba noodle. I am 
amazed that such a small woman can swallow most of my cock. She is 
older I reason and, if she has been associated with Americans for a long 
time, she probably has had a lot of experience sucking GI cock. If she
is the mamasan pimp for several girls, she may, perhaps, fill in for one
of them whenever it suits her. Tonight, it suits her. 

Mamasan sucks with affection; I'd swear that she likes her task. Tiny 
hands cup my balls; fingertips at the base of my cock steady it, point
it up, into her vacuum mouth. Her head moves up and down, steadily, 
rhythmically. Occasionally, she breaks the beat, pulls her lips 
completely off of my cock, flicks her tongue at my cockhole, then 
clamps her mouth back on and resumes heavy duty suction. She is 
good; Mamasan is an artist. In just a few minutes I am huffing and 
puffing, I am ready to blow. Perhaps, sensing my impending release, 
she slows her pace.  

She pulls her head up slightly and swirls her tongue over my cockhead. 
Then, her head slowly descends and she swallows me again, her lips 
and nose down in my pubic hair. She pulls her head back up, slowly, 
excruciatingly so, letting my glistening cock emerge from her lips like 
a lubricated piston. My eyes involuntarily shut. I am throbbing, I am 
totally losing control. As the first torrents stream into her mouth, she 
stops her sucking. With each burst, she pulls her lips back up to the 
head, keeping her mouth just on the tip as my jism boils out; old lady 
lips nip at my cockhead, Mamasan gulps and swallows each eruption.  

When I am deflated, she lets my cock drop from her mouth. She smacks 
her lips with seeming gusto, flicking her tongue over them, licking up 
all of my copious twenty-one-year-old soul. I peer at her; she looks at 
me; her eyes sparkle with apparent delight.  

"Umm. You nice boy. Very nice boy," she says, again. 

Mamasan sits up on her haunches, resting her hands on the tops of her 
thighs and, still smiling affectionately, she looks down at me. From a 
small side table, she takes a hand towel and quickly pats my cock dry. 
She bends her head down to my cock, cradling it in the palm of her 
hand, and respectfully kisses my shrunken cockhead. She lets it flop 
over and reaches for my shorts.  

"Dozo," she says, signaling with her hands that I should lift my legs.  

I raise my feet; she slips my shorts on. Next, it's my trousers, deftly 
yanked up, over my hips. I roll on to my side; I stand and zipper up. 
Now, if it was Betty that had just sucked my cock, she would have 
grabbed the towel, swiped her mouth with it, tossed it on my cock, and 
left me lying there to wipe my own dribbles and put on my own pants. 
Older women are nicer, more sophisticated than younger ones.  

"Arigato," I tell the lady, thanks. "Ikaga desuka?"  I ask her. How 
much? 

She tells me. I pull out a thousand yen note and hand it to her. She 
reaches into the wide sleeve of her kimono and extracts a small purse. 
"Dozo," I say, please, holding up my hands, signaling that it is all
hers, to keep the extra two hundred. 

She bows deeply. "Domo arigato," thank you very much, Mamasan 
replies, in a subdued respectful voice.



(c) 1998-1999 by R.A. Mendoza


Mamasan is an excerpt from Sunflower Alley.
The entire Sunflower Alley series may be found at:
http://www.bigfoot.com/~R_A_M

Some stories. Some almost true. Boring if you don't like my thoughts.
But, what the hell, it's my page, I can do (almost) anything I want.
Stories, nostalgia, about GIs, their life, their women, in the Cold War
Era, c.1955. From East LA to Japan. The way it was, way back then. Maybe
these tidbits, these spicy morsels, will jostle your mind. Maybe they'll
give you some joy, I hope.

 From the Corner of 1st & Rowan to Sunflower Alley
http://www.bigfoot.com/~R_A_M

-----------------------

 From Celestial Reviews 317 - February 28, 1999

"I'm never really sure how far afield I should go when I look for
stories to review. I suppose if I can't even keep up with the stories
that are posted on a.s.s. and a.s.s.m. I shouldn't waste my time
trapsing all over the place looking for even more stories. But this
excursion wasn't a waste of time. One of Mendoza's lead-ins caught my
attention, and his home page roped me in. This is good stuff. It 
doesn't run as a continuous story, but the deliberately disjointed 
presentation is highly effective." 
 
"I encourage you to take a look"
        
Ratings for "Sunflower Alley" 
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 9
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
        Celestial Reviews 317 - February 28, 1999

-----------------------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+