The Tokyo Touch

[This story takes some liberties with the Shinto religion. No insult is intended.

I've filed this under Nonconsent/Reluctance because, if you choose to ignore the last five words in the story, that's what it is.]

*

I spent the first week of my vacation in Japan in Kyoto, that imperial city full of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines.

I really enjoyed going to the shrines, of which there are 1300 in Kyoto alone. Each one is home to a spirit. I'm told there a billion spirits in Shinto, so they don't all get their own shrine. To pay homage to a spirit you ritually wash your hands, put a bit of money in the offering plate, and then try to get the attention of the spirit. This is done by bowing, clapping hands and ringing bells. Then you can pray.

So what do people pray for? A long life? Happiness? Relief from disease? There are lots of things you could pray for, but something you're not supposed to pray for is more cheap sex. But of course that's precisely what I wanted.

Of all those billion spirits out there they can't all be good. A few surely are evil. I suppose that's what exorcisms are for. But the spirit that answered my call wasn't evil as much as a prankster.

I must have caught the joker during my last day in Kyoto. I began to feel a little strange. Not really more horny, but somehow more relaxed about being horny--as if relief were right around the corner.

I arrived in Tokyo the following afternoon. Feeling really tired I took a nap and had the oddest dream. The spirit came to me:

For the next 24 hours I will endow you with special powers. We will be surrounded by a force field. Any woman who falls within our force field will yield to your advances. You may grope her and strip her at will. But you can only fuck one woman, so choose wisely.

I remembered the dream vividly. And I felt weird. Still, one can't take a dream too seriously. I didn't really believe I could just walk up to a woman and start taking her clothes off. And so I wasted the first few hours of my gift.

That evening, after dark, I went to Shibuya, the brightly lit, ultra-crowded, Tokyo night market. The plaza in front of the train station, lit in neon, dissolves into a crowded maze of side streets, full of stores, bars, and restaurants. Most people just walk across the plaza on their way to the shops, but some hang out there. Among the latter are prostitutes.

Prostitutes in Shibuya pay no attention to gaijin (foreigners), reserving their custom solely for Japanese. (Dan King explains why in his book

Hookernomics: The Business of Sex

, available on Amazon.) It is discouraging when not even a prostitute will flirt with you as you walk by.

I assume she was a hooker, standing by herself against a wall waiting for somebody. A pretty little thing, clad in a red miniskirt to mid thigh and a white blouse, she stood barely 5'2, even including the heels. Her hair and makeup were nicely done.

What better way to test my supposed gift. A prostitute can't get too mad at me for making a pass at her. It's not like I'll end up in jail. So I went and stood next to her. I mean really next to her--our shoulders touched. Any normal girl would've moved away. Though this girl looked at me like she'd rather I wasn't there, she didn't step aside.

Apparently she was trapped by the spirit. To check I reached behind her and patted her ass. Disfavor from her eyes, but no effort to resist me. I did the move again, this time under her skirt and grabbing her cheek. I met no resistance whatsoever.

Apparently the force was with me.

So was I supposed to strip this lady naked in public view and not get arrested? I silently asked my spirit, receiving no articulate answer. But somehow I figured I shouldn't worry about it. After all, if passers-by were going to object it'd be long before she was nude.

I lifted up her skirt to show off her underwear--more than a thong, and Japanese-cute with pink flowers. A few gentlemen stopped briefly to look, but a crowd did not form nor did anybody seem particularly bothered. It's not that they couldn't see us, but more like they just didn't notice.

The spirit protected us. So I pushed the pantie off her butt and down to her ankles, showing off her unshaved pussy. A policeman walked by and paid us no attention. The cunt got stroked and finger-fucked. The girl got wet. A man paused for a minute to watch.

The skirt was getting in the way, so I unbuttoned it and let it fall to the pavement. I stood behind her, my cock against her butt, while reaching up under her blouse for her tits. Small, beautiful, girlish tits. The bra was a nuisance--I unhooked it.

Only the blouse buttons remained undone. I pulled my hands out from under so to undo them. I struggled to get the collar button through the hole--a pleasant interruption. After that it got easier, though this was the slowest part of the strip. Eventually the blouse opened up. I slipped it off her shoulders, taking the bra with it.

I let her keep her shoes on.

I really wanted to fuck her. I held her tight and humped her--her pussy safe only because I still had my clothes on.

The spirit told me I could fuck any woman in Tokyo--but only one. Why blow that opportunity on a prostitute? I disentangled and walked away.

That was probably a mistake. We were barely ten feet apart when she realized she was naked. And so did the passers-by. The force field had left her. It was all very embarrassing--a crowd gathered around while she desperately grabbed for her clothes.

I got out of there before maybe she recognized me.

The next morning I ate breakfast at Starbucks, a ubiquitous Tokyo institution. The barista--age indeterminate but seemingly young--wore the universal green apron over black pants and a dark blue blouse. Her makeup was immaculately applied and her hair perfectly coiffed. She smiled at me the way all Japanese shop clerks do, delivering the change with both hands.

I decided I'd like her naked.

Not so easy. She worked behind the counter--too far away for me to grab hold of her. My force field wasn't strong enough. The only access to the employee space was at the back of the store, next to the restrooms. Unfortunately, the workers didn't go back there very often. So I had to stake the place out.

I waited, eating my breakfast while standing. It must have been ten minutes later, but eventually she went back to the kitchen on an errand. As she returned I grabbed her hand, asked her to put what she had fetched on the counter and pulled her into the restaurant proper. There was only one empty table remaining--right in the middle of the room.

She was dirty in the way food service workers often are. Her apron smelled like coffee grounds. I thought the most fun would be to leave her apron for last.

I pulled her onto my lap, stroking her pussy through her pants. The man sitting to my right watched disinterestedly. The women on the other side looked away. My other hand fondled her breasts under the apron.

Unzipping her pants, my hand slipped inside her panty and started finger-fucking her. Her unfocused stare and irregular breathing made it obvious. The ladies to our left looked mildly amused.

I couldn't remove her pants over her shoes--white tennies tied with a bow. I pulled the strings and slipped them off. I motioned for her to stand up, which she did with my middle finger still inside her. My vigorous clit-massaging had pushed her pantie down. With my other hand I pushed both pants and pantie off her butt, letting them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them.

While the apron still covered her privates, her bottom was visible to all. I squeezed her cheeks and massaged her asshole, and then reached between her thighs to give her clit another touch. She still had her socks on, so I pulled her back onto my lap to remove them.

She wore a white, button-down blouse. I slowly undid the buttons while also feeling up her girlish tits. With a little effort she was able to remove the garment from under the apron. I stripped off her bra.

Only the apron preserved her modesty. I let her model it in front of me. One strap slipped over the head, and the other tied behind her at the waist. From the front it looked fine, as if she wore a green dress. From the rear it looked like a hospital gown--her ass in full view, revealing as she wore no other clothes.

She sat again on my lap. I made her spread her knees, leaving most of a thigh sticking out from under the apron. The finger-fucking resumed, with the other hand massaging her breasts. I paused my ministrations long enough to unfasten the tie. The garment gradually slipped out of position, revealing first her finger-filled pussy, and then one of her tits.

The manager looked at us irritatedly, as if wondering when she'd get back to work.

I lifted the strap over her head and threw the apron on the chair with the rest of her clothes. The nude lady straddled me, her pussy against my cock, her tits pressing my chest, and her lips smashed against mine. I stuck my tongue deep in her mouth.

Was this the girl I wanted to fuck? I stood her up to get a look at her. Too skinny for me--almost beanpole thin, with very small tits. Though they sure felt good. Her thighs didn't have enough meat on them. And there was no good place to do it--Starbucks isn't outfitted for fucking.

So (to avoid embarrassment before she left the force field) I let her dress herself while I finished my coffee.

My next stop was Takeshita-Dori, the main street of Harajuku. This is the teenage hangout, full of t-shirt shops, tattoo parlors, trendy fashion stores, and all sorts of things to eat. The place was crawling with school girls wearing the typical, Japanese uniforms. Sexy as goddamned hell.

Now I'm not much of one for moral scruples, but obviously many of these girls were only twelve or thirteen years old, and were definitely off-limits for me. The younger ones were easy to distinguish, but how was I supposed to tell a seventeen-year-old from an eighteen-year-old? I thought I might have to give up on the school-girl project entirely and go for a woman who was obviously older.

But I soon realized that the spirit had my back. When girls were under 18, my force field turned into an anti-force field--they'd go out of their way to avoid me. For example, if I approached them from behind they'd somehow sense trouble and cross the street. I couldn't get close enough to touch any female under age eighteen.

The bottom line: if I could grab her bottom, then then she was over 18 and I could strip her.

It turns out that most Japanese girls finish school before reaching eighteen. Uniformed children avoided me, staying safely out of reach. But there were a few who weren't repelled--they were older than 18. They'd pass me on the sidewalk like most people do. I supposed they'd flunked a grade and were therefore older. I called them the dummies.

I walked up and down the street a couple times checking out the bodies. Many of the dummies were too skinny, and some were just plain ugly. But I saw one girl across the street who was stacked. After the Starbucks adventure I wanted somebody with real tits. She strolled along with one of her girl friends. I crossed the street to follow her.

Her girlfriend, apparently too young, ran off as I approached, but my target didn't get out of the way, She was a dummy (over 18). I sidled up next to her, and with a hand on her butt I steered her toward a streetside bench. I sat down, placing her standing between my thighs.

The school uniform had a sailor motif, complete with a little cap held fast by bobby pins. The loosely-fit, short-sleeved blouse was white with a blue collar and red necktie. The navy blue, pleated skirt stretched to the knee. White knee socks covered the lower leg, along with fake Oxford shoes that fastened with Velcro.

The whole outfit was much more modest than the typical sex tape would have you believe. Though modesty certainly didn't figure in this young lady's immediate future.

I pulled her off-balance, forcing her to rest those bodacious boobs against my face. The tits were definitely the star of this show--I decided to bare them last. Meanwhile, I gently massaged and kissed them through her clothes. She wore a bra. I carefully undid the bobby pins and removed her cap.

My hands reached round for her butt, grabbing the cheeks and pulling her closer. I felt down the back of her legs to get under the skirt. That accomplished, I stroked up her naked thighs till I got to the pantie. Inserting fingers through the leg holes I again squeezed her cheeks, enjoying the bare, feminine skin.

I pulled the pantie down off her rear, and then also from the front catching some pubic hair between my fingers as I did so.

The pantie fell to the ground. She stepped out of it and our legs traded position: instead of her standing between my thighs, I had her straddle me. All the better for finger-fucking, which promptly ensued. With my other hand I again pulled her tits to my face.

She still had her skirt on, so passers-by couldn't see what was going on. They could've guessed from her expression. She began humping my hand, at first barely and then vigorously. I didn't want her to cum on my hand, so I withdrew. She glared at me angrily.

The skirt was getting in the way. I unhooked it and let it fall to the ground. The blouse covered only to the hips, leaving butt and pussy completely exposed. Despite the spirit, some passers-by couldn't help but notice. We'd attracted a small audience.

I sat her onto my lap, straddling my hips. The shoes got unfastened--she kicked them off. More fun was removing her socks--I enjoyed the feel of her calf and ankle, soles and toes. I pulled her hips closer to me, my cock against her cunt.

That set us up for the main show. The blouse had no buttons, instead coming off over the head. Should I unfasten her bra first? I explored her midriff and tits under the blouse while considering that question, deciding to take off the blouse.

So that left the stacked bitch naked but for the bra, which accentuated her cleavage. I again hugged her close, burying my face against her breasts. I unfastened the bra and pulled it away with my teeth.

The boobs were as big as promised, but sagged without the bra. I spent several minutes massaging, kissing, and sucking them, while dry-humping her pussy (I still had my clothes on).

Did I want to fuck this girl? Hell, yeah! But I resisted, mostly because I still had a few hours left on my gift and I thought I could do better. And then she seemed kinda strung out, as though she had some sort of drug issue. Though still looking good because of youth, she wasn't taking care of herself--obviously not exercising. Her complexion disappointed, probably because of a lousy diet.

She'd let me strip her naked (not that she had a choice), and beyond that she'd been enthusiastic about the finger-fucking. So just to be nice I helped her get her clothes back on under cover of the spirit, and then I walked away.

When teenagers grow up, some of them move to the neighborhood next door, known as Omote-Sando. The tattoo parlors, the cheap eats, and the Hello Kitty phone covers found in Harajuku are replaced by Zagat-rated restaurants, and stores selling fancy footwear, bespoke cutlery, and elegant fashions, among many other items. The inhabitants here are yuppies--thirty-something, well-off, professionals. Or, put another way, it was full of hot young MILFs married to rich husbands.

One thing that surprised me about Tokyo was the number of children--very much unlike Manhattan. Omote-Sando was full of them--lots of baby strollers, toddlers in hand, or grade schoolers walking alongside. The mothers were spectacular: slender, immaculately turned out, in good shape, and very stylish.

But I didn't know what would happen to the kids while I fucked their mom. Did my spirit do babysitting? My silent inquiry yielded no response, and I was thinking about how to deal with this problem when the answer came walking down the sidewalk.

No doubt she was the most beautiful MILF on the block. Perhaps 5'7" (albeit in heels) and slender (but not skinny), she had right-sized tits--big for a Japanese woman. If she had a baby-belly it didn't show through her tight-fitting clothes. And yet she did have a baby, perhaps two years old being pushed along in a stroller.

The miracle was that daddy pushed the stroller. A built in babysitter who was just about to get himself cuckolded.

I fell in step alongside, and putting my arm on her back I escorted her out of traffic, next to a wall. Hubby took the stroller to the corner, and then impatiently looked at his watch as if she were late. I ran my fingers through her thick, black, beautiful, precision-cut hair before giving her a deep, tongue-in-mouth, face-smashing kiss.

Wow! She tasted good. My hand started to massage her breast.

I stood back so I could get a better look at her. She was prettier than I had expected, with a doll-like, Japanese face, perfectly proportioned. Her waist-hip ratio was ideal. I couldn't see her thighs, but her arms had a little bit of fat on them--she was more than just skin on bones. The muscle tone was delicious.

She wore a dress. The top part fit like a leotard, showing off her body. It wasn't see-through at all--indeed, it covered everything to the collarbone. From feeling her up I already knew she wore a bra. At the hips the skirt flared out full, sinking to mid calf. I couldn't see her legs at all, but her feet sported slip-on moccasins--pure leather and very expensive, but sexy and easy to remove. I asked her to take them off, leaving her barefoot on the sidewalk. She had tiny, perfectly formed, feminine feet.

She wore a lot of jewelry--rings including a wedding band, bracelets on both wrists, a necklace and earrings. I started to remove it--she got the message and placed it all in her handbag, which got put on the sidewalk next to her shoes. At the end I wanted the lady in her birthday suit.

The dress had no hooks, zippers or buttons. I wondered how it came off. The top was very elastic so it could all fit over her head. Not exactly stripper's clothes--you can't take something like that off gracefully. It promised to be fun.

I hugged her close and started dry-humping her. At the same time I felt for the seam where the flared skirt met the leotard, and started bunching that together to get a better grip. Then I gradually raised that boundary--first to her waist, and then to just under her bosom. As I did so the leotard became less taut and the skirt became shorter.

I stepped back to see that it extended only to the knee. She had beautiful calves. I lifted the front of the skirt to get a good look at her legs, and they didn't disappoint. I stuck my hand between her thighs and stroked around a bit. Not just a bit--all the way up to the crotch. And then the pussy. Damn it--I went ahead and removed her pantie. That got put in the pile by her shoes.

I pulled the boundary up over her bosom to her collarbone, with the leotard now bunched around her neck like a scarf. The skirt still hung down, but now only to mid-thigh. Being full, if she spun around it would reveal all. I asked her to do that.

The lady had obviously taken dance classes. She turned with remarkable grace. Ass and pussy charmed exquisitely.

Time to finish the job. The leotard was stretched to pass over her head, after which I pulled the sleeves off her arms. It wasn't graceful--her head was covered by the skirt while her arms were immobilized by the elastic. I paused to admire her vulnerability, sticking my finger up her luv hole.

Just for a minute, mind you. No need to embarrass the lady needlessly.

The dress got folded and put with the other items. She now wore only her bra. Not for long. I pushed my fingers underneath it and slipped it off her tits. They were soft and perfect. I kissed and licked them. Unhooking the bra, I let her put it neatly with her other clothes. The lady stood naked before me. If you looked closely you could see the baby belly.