Christmas in Tokyo shimmered with a unique charm - an odd blend of familiar traditions and distinctly Japanese twists. Festive lights twinkled against a backdrop of snow-dusted pagodas, and it was beautiful, but loneliness gnawed at my lions. My girlfriend Kameko, was miles away, indulging in skiing and fancy meals with her family at their luxury chalet in Nagano, while I clung to the dismal warmth of instant noodles, alone.
I thought about Dr Kahira and her unusual experiments and felt for the business card she had given me just as I was leaving her office. It was for some kind of clinic, and I wondered if I was ready for the next chapter of my adventure. In Japan, language schools were sometimes called language clinics, so perhaps the gesture was entirely innocent.
The more I thought about Dr Kahira and the experiment at the university, the more it felt like another bizarre initiation rite into the world of odd jobs in Tokyo. Apparently, my reputation as someone willing to explore unconventional work opportunities was growing. Oddly enough, part of me craved the stability of a traditional teaching position, while the other, more perverted side, couldn't shake the curiosity sparked by my recent experiences.
With a sigh, I pulled out the crisp white card. The decision hung heavy in the air, a microcosm of my current situation in Tokyo. The city was full of possibilities, both exciting and unsettling. Then I got a call which helped me make up my mind. It was Kameko. She called to tell me she had told her parents about our relationship and that they did not approve of her dating a foreigner.
She said she couldn't see me when she got back to Tokyo.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
She seemed genuinely upset, choking back tears as she delivered the devastating news, but no matter how grief-stricken she sounded on the phone, I knew that she would never go against her wealthy family. I hung up and went and lay down on the bed for several hours. I was depressed for the whole evening, but it certainly made my decision about the job at the clinic much easier.
I called them up the following morning and they said that they had received a recommendation from Dr Kahira and that I could start first thing in the new year.
The holiday season past by in a blur of solitude, one day melting into the next like thawing and refreezing snow and it was bitterly cold as I made my way to work at the clinic, wondering what to expect. The trees were still leafless and barren, but the green shoots of opportunity lifted my spirits as I marched along the streets, eager to reach my destination.
When I arrived, I was told to take a seat in the lobby and wait for an appointment with the head nurse. The head nurse arrived a short while later and welcomed me into her office where she explained that they were a sperm donor clinic and that they would pay me to donate my semen.
All things considered, it was a pretty good fit for me. I was a virile young male with a growing reputation for sex work. At least in this case, it would just be me and an empty cup.
The head nurse, an elderly lady who exhibited nothing but disinterest, asked me, robotically, if I would be willing to begin immediately. I happily agreed and was escorted to another room by a young nurse in a tight-fitting white uniform. She left me there with a stack of porno magazines and a small translucent cup. I took care of business pretty quickly, ogling over photographs of big-breasted beauties in bikinis making out with one another, and left with an envelope full of cash twenty minutes later.
I visited the clinic every day for weeks, jerking off in solitude and receiving my payment with little fuss until one day a new young nurse started working there who insisted on watching me while I masturbated. It was pretty weird, but I didn't really feel like I was in a position to argue about it.
I had been growing bored of the porn, having gone through all the pictures in the magazines several times already, so I didn't mind the stimulation. I looked at the nurse in her tight-fitting white uniform as I stroked my exposed cock, admiring her breasts and the curves of her body. Her sheer stockings left little to the imagination and her red lipstick perfectly matched the little red cross on her nurses cap.
By this stage of my Tokyo adventure, nothing surprised me anymore and the cute young nurse seemed equally unfazed about me jerking off in front of her. I came harder than ever that day and she came over to fetch my sample after watching to make sure I squeezed out every drop.
Things carried on like this for a while, with her standing there watching me as I brought myself to a climax. I would stroke my penis languidly, looking from the naked models in the magazines to my supervisor, perversely savouring the erotic weirdness of the situation.
After a few weeks, however, the nurse, who seemed to be drawing closer and closer with each routine inspection, decided that she was not satisfied with me servicing myself and offered to assist me. Apparently, I was taking too long, and my inefficiency was costing the clinic money.
No longer interested in the photographs from the racy magazines, I was beginning to crave the real thing and I had made a habit of taking my time, enjoying the busty nurse and her impatient frown. So when the nurse insisted on doing it for me I was not going to object.
The nurse claimed that they needed to ensure the samples they took from me remained pure and were not exposed to excess light, heat or temperature. Clearly, they wanted as much of my foreign seed as possible. Perhaps it fetched higher prices. Either way, I was not going to argue with a medical professional about such matters.
I removed my pants and sat down in my usual chair. The nurse put on and lubricated a pair of gloves. She then strode over to me with a serious and professional expression and took my cock in her hands. I gasped with delight at her initial touch, but her expression remained unreadable.
