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From: RAM <R_A_M@bigfoot.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sunflower Alley: Sunflowers - Mamasan  [repost]
Date: Sat, 16 Jun 2001 08:10:02 -0400
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Comments may be sent to R_A_M@bigfoot.com

This story is an excerpt from Sunflower Alley.
The entire Sunflower Alley series may be found at:
  From the Corner of 1st & Rowan to Sunflower Alley,
  http://www.bigfoot.com/~R_A_M , a non-commercial site.

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


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


Mamasan  
    
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."  

"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 with 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, stomach flat
on the futon; she stretches her legs out behind her. I see, over a
kimono covered ass, white tabi slippered feet, way back behind my own
feet. Mamasan's gray head dips, expertly, into my lap. Like it's a thick
giant soba noodle, she sucks my cock into her mouth. 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. She moves her head up and down, steadily,
rhythmically, occasionally breaking the beat, pulling her lips
completely off of my cock, and flicks her tongue at my cockhole. Then
she 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.   

Her head pulls up slightly; her tongue swirls over my cockhead. Then,
her head slowly descends and 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 sucking.
With each burst, her lips pull back up to the head, and she keeps 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. Veddy 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?" 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.  

Mamasan bends at the waist and bows deeply. "Domo arigato," thank you
very much, she replies, in a subdued respectful voice.


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


This story 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. 
                                          RAM

  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 
tra[i]psing 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.
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