Rai gave a sharp little bow. He was of Japanese origin, shorter than me, with inky-black hair, brown eyes and smooth skin. I was never quite sure what to do when he gave that small gesture so I bobbed my head and slipped my phone away.
“You have never been here before?” he asked, his arms rod-straight at his sides.
“No, never. But I am a great fan of Asian food so I am sure it will be lovely.”
One side of his mouth tilted, balling his cheek slightly. “Oh yes, it is very lovely, a very satisfying meal.” He indicated for me to step forward, his movements sharp. He was the epitome of physical control and discipline. He once told me he was a karate black belt. I wouldn’t have liked to get on the wrong side of him in a dark alley. Thoughts of Japanese mafia, the Yakuza, came to mind.
I moved toward the large gold-embroidered curtain Rai had indicated. A young Japanese lady in traditional dress reached toward it. She pulled a cord that gathered the curtain out of my way.
Avoiding eye contact, she cast her dark gaze downward, dipped her narrow shoulders and retreated in little shuffles.
“Thank you,” I said, stooping so I could duck around the curtain.
The room I entered was lit by overhead spotlights and nothing like a restaurant at all. In fact it could hardly be described as a room. It was more like a wide hotel corridor and instead of doors there were more heavy gold curtains on either side. But they were close together, no more than four or five feet between them.
“Konnichiwa.”
I turned.
A short waiter in a black tuxedo and with the same inky-black hair as Rai’s smiled at us.
“Konnichiwa,” Rai said, bowing stiffly. “Thank you for accommodating us tonight, Masaru.”
The other man bowed too, though lower and for slightly longer than Rai. “Please follow this way,” he said, straightening. For a moment his gaze settled on me, as if he were assessing me, scrutinizing me. But before I could feel uncomfortable, he turned and walked briskly up the corridor.
I followed, stepping to the side twice to allow waiters to pass. One carried an enormous silver tray crammed with sushi and sashimi. Another rice wine and shot glasses.
But where are the diners?
I could hear the low hum of conversation and the mouth-watering scents filling the air told me they couldn’t be far away. Eventually, Masaru stopped at a thick curtain with a scarlet Japanese symbol embroidered on the front. Each curtain had one. Numbers perhaps?
Rai and I stood next to him. My curiosity growing by the second. Were the other diners all eating behind fabric screens?
A waiter flicked back a curtain just a few steps away from me. I couldn’t see what lay beyond but the sound of male voices was definitely louder. Yes. That was it. The other diners were eating in privacy, each table a booth screened off from everyone else. That must be why the place was so hard to get into, and of course, celebrities would love it—complete freedom from pestering fans and unscrupulous paparazzi.
“Your service master will be with you in just a moment. Please make yourselves comfortable. Have an enjoyable meal.” Masaru pulled back the curtain to our booth.
Whoa. Not what I expected.
And I didn’t mean the low, cushioned purple seats or the row of red candles that sat above a brass bell. Neither was it the papery walls nor the intricate, four-foot-tall pink blossom tree made of china. No, it was the naked woman lying on the table that had my heart stuttering and my breath catching in my throat.
“Please, sit,” Rai said, curling his palm toward the low seats.
I couldn’t drag my gaze from the lovely sight before me. Smooth caramel flesh rising over small breasts topped with dark nipples. The barest hint of ribs and a flat belly indented with a shallow navel. Curved hips and delicate, doll-like limbs. Slotted between her toes and fingers were vibrant pink flowers, orchids.
Her face was heavily powdered to a milky white. The raven-black hair on her head spread like a silken fan, the hair on her pussy nonexistent, exposing two plump cushions of skin and a dark, tempting slit.
“Mr. Alan?” Rai said.
“Right, er, yes, of course.” I moved over to the beautiful young woman and took a seat on the low cushions. I had to stretch my legs out under the table, it was that or sit with my knees around my ears. She was now within a foot of me. I could have touched her, easily. I clasped my hands in my lap and willed them still. Temptation is a dangerous thing.
Rai sat on the other side of the table, his shorter stature instantly making him appear more at ease on the low seating. The slightly smug expression on his face also made me think he was enjoying my moment of surprise.
But of course—The Geisha Plate. The name did give an enormous clue as to what the exclusive restaurant was all about. Food served off Geisha girls.
My stomach tensed, my underarms prickled with warmth and blood rushed to my cock. I didn’t have a full-blown hard-on, but there were definite stirrings. And not surprisingly, because it had been a while since I’d seen a naked woman. Janice and I had split over a year ago and apart from a couple of one-night stands, I’d had to rely on my hand—usually late at night if I happened across one of those seedy TV channels.
So a delectable female lying supine before me, utterly naked, was having a more extreme effect on me than under normal circumstances—normal circumstances being when I was getting a regular supply of bedroom action. Something I’d never had to worry about since hitting my late teens. I was lucky, girls seemed to like my height, sharp features and easygoing nature. And if girls liked what they saw, I’d soon learned, they got naked, sweaty and dirty real quick.
Amen.
“Sake?” Rai asked.
I dragged in a breath and nodded, grateful for the distraction. My thoughts weren’t helping the pressure in my pants.
He handed me a small shot glass of clear liquid. We touched rims and I tried to look cool and unfluste
red. As though having bare breasts below a clinking gesture was everyday routine. I was cool, it didn’t bother me.
Hastily, I knocked back my drink. The flavor was like wildfire, a crisp slap to my tongue. I hissed in a breath in an attempt to put out the flames and at the same time welcomed the alcohol hit that accompanied the burn.
Rai topped up our glasses and I studied the girl’s face. Her heavily kohled eyes were closed and her enormous black lashes created long shadows on her pale cheeks— pale except for a round blob of raspberry rouge in the middle of each. Her lips gave the illusion of being in a permanent pout because the white powder on her face covered them almost entirely, making the blood-red, fingertip-sized dot of lipstick at the center of her top and bottom lips look all the more startling.
I downed my second shot of sake, the scald no less intense, the alcohol equally welcome.
The curtain drew back. A waiter bowed low.
Rai dipped his head and I followed suit, as if I did this sort of thing all the time.
“We will have the tasting menu,” Rai said. “It is Mr. Alan’s first visit and I wish him to have the full experience.”
“Yes sir,” the waiter said in a clipped tone before re-drawing the curtain and leaving us alone once again.
“We will eat off our living plate,” Rai said, gesturing to the woman. “It is an ancient Japanese practice known as nyotaimori. I thought it would be something a little different and I very much hope it will be to your satisfaction.”
“I, er, yes, it’s an interesting concept.”
I glanced at the woman again. As her chest rose and fell with her slow breaths her breasts shifted slightly. She had a freckle beneath her left nipple, on the downward slope toward the heavier underside. My dick responded to my perusal of such a perfect set of tits, my shaft filling and pressing up against the zipper of my suit pants.
Damn.
“She has bathed in fragrance-free soap and her body will warm the sushi and sashimi to perfection,” Rai said. “As you can see she has absolutely no body hair for us to worry about.” He looked pointedly at the aperture of her thighs and I couldn’t help but follow his gaze. The satiny skin of her outer labia was a fraction darker than the rest of her, a little rosier than the just-baked-biscuit look she sported everywhere else.
I shifted on my seat, irritated by my arousal when Rai was so calm and matter of fact. I guessed years of dojo discipline could come in handy in more ways than one.
“The girls have many hours of training, learning to lie still and quiet. For they are not allowed to move or speak throughout the meal, though if they feel they are touched inappropriately they ring.” Rai pointed to the brass bell just within reach of our living plate. It had a red tasseled pull string and a fire-breathing dragon etched onto the dome. “If the minders hear the bell, all diners in that booth are physically removed and will never be allowed back to The Geisha Plate.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You understand that there must be such rules to protect the girls who work here.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And you must also understand that The Geisha Plate does not advertise its unique style of serving Japanese cuisine. As you are my guest, it is my duty to ask you not to discuss the evening’s unconventional serving methods with anyone.”
“Well, no, of course not. If that’s what you want.”
“Some Western and Eastern cultures see nyotaimori as degrading. But for many Japanese, we see sushi as an art form and it should be a delight to every sense. What better way to serve it than on a truly beautiful woman?”
“Well, I love sushi and I have to say I love women too, so I couldn’t agree more.” I held out my glass and had a sudden rush of appreciation for my supplier who’d thought to treat me to such a unique experience.
Rai filled my glass and his. We drank once more.
“So,” I said, trying my best to get into business mode. “Tell me about the improvements in the satellite communication in the 230 model.”
“There are many improvements in all areas,” Rai said, his face and voice also becoming professional. “Starting with the new lightweight casing, which makes…”
He chatted about technology for several minutes. I purposely didn’t look at the sweet body lying in front of me. My dick settled, not back to complete softness, but the tightness in my balls receded and the zipper stopped imprinting itself on my shaft.
Rai fell silent as two solemn waiters appeared carrying large silver trays.
The trays were set on folding wooden stands at the foot end of our plate, then the task of spreading out our meal began.
I watched, fascinated as a long, rubbery bottle-green leaf was set down on her sternum, the pointed tip just touching her navel, the stalk not quite reaching the delicate semicircular dip of her throat. On the leaf small pats of rice topped with slivers of vibrant-pink salmon and deep-rose tuna were arranged. Thin strands of knotted nori held the fish to the rice, in the center of the leaf more salmon, the thin slices carefully arranged to resemble a flower. Briefly, I wondered what that fish would have thought about ending up as a piece of body art.
Several pink petals were laid on her breasts, but not over the now erect points of her nipples. Perhaps the long tropical leaf and the sushi were making her cold, even though the restaurant itself was warm. The petals shifted slightly with her breaths. One fluttered down and landed on the table just in front of me. My fingers twitched to reach for it, place it back on her smooth skin, balance it on the sweet rise of flesh sloping toward me. I clasped my hands tighter, fearful of inappropriate touching and the bell being rung.
The waiters worked in silence, their movements swift and efficient. More leaves were laid, smaller, paler, and carefully arranged on her shoulders. I shifted on my seat, an ache in my balls telling me my cock would soon be getting an extra shot of blood. It was those pretty nipples that were doing it; they were so tight and small, their dark-cocoa color exquisite. Rather than looking at the wonderful sushi and wondering what that would taste like, all I could think of was how her nipples would feel on the tip of my tongue. Flexible but also hard, they would give some resistance to a flick I was sure, but then if I sucked them deep into my mouth they would be soft and pliant on my tongue.
I licked my lips, tried to concentrate on the culinary artistry of the moment.
On the shoulder leaves, rice layered with prawns was set, the fanned tails lying perfectly horizontal and just touching one another in the center. The waiters busied themselves with yet more leaves, heart-shaped this time, setting two over her slight hipbones and one at the juncture of her thighs.
Part of me was relieved that her bare pussy lips were now covered—it might ease the pressure in my cock—but the other part of me wished I could still see her lovely nakedness.
Tofu wrapped in ribbons of seaweed were balanced on the hipbone leaves, and one enormous fluffy white flower rested over her pussy, making it appear that in place of pubic hair she had a cloud of petals.
Rai offered forward the bottle of sake. “Would you like more?”
I dragged my gaze from the slivers of sashimi being arranged on her thighs. “Er, yes, please.” I held up my glass.
Rai filled our glasses. “Kampai, here is to a wonderful meal.”
“Kampai,” I replied, knocking back my drink and once again relishing the burn and the fuzzy feeling it created as it slipped down my gullet.
“Sir, please.” A waiter handed me a black linen napkin and a narrow white tray holding a finger bowl and soy sauce.
“Thank you.” I set the tray down and laid the napkin on my lap. I was hungry. It had been a long time since lunch in my office, and I had to say, this was a little different from the cheese sandwich and apple I’d had then as I’d trawled through emails.
The waiters disappeared, the curtain was drawn and Rai wasted no time in tucking in. “Be careful of the prawn. The chef likes to hide wasabi in the center of the rice. Fine if you like wasabi, a bit of a shock if you don’t.” He lifted one, dipped it in his soy, then popped it onto his tongue, fish side down.
I stared at the meal. Where to start?
Nipples? No! Think food, John.
I reached for smoked salmon, pinched it up between my index finger and thumb, but halfway across her breast a chunk fell. I watched in horror as the tiny pieces of rice bounced on her areola and skittered down her flesh. Some bits stayed stickily where they’d landed, others rolled down to the table. “Oh shit,” I said. Then frowned and glanced at her face. I hated to swear in female company. “Sorry.”
But there was nothing, not even a tiny reaction of surprise to either the shower of rice or my language.
“Don’t worry,” Rai said, “sometimes body warmth means the rice is not quite held together.”
I was sure he was only being kind, and it was my clumsiness that had caused our beautiful girl to now have white chunks stuck to her perfect breast. I placed the remainder of my food on a side plate and wondered about using my napkin to remove the tiny pieces of food stuck to her. But I decided not to. I didn’t want that brass bell rung.
“So tell me a little about yourself, John, while we eat. Are you married?”
I held up my left hand, waggled my empty ring finger. “Not anymore, my wife and I were divorced a year or so ago.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks, but it was for the best. She had eyes for another man and I’m not good at sharing.” I shrugged.
“I quite agree. Any children before the divorce?”
“Nope, but one day, hopefully, when I meet the right woman. You?”
“Yes, Jun and I have twin girls.”
“That’s lovely, how old are they?”
“Three and into everything. They certainly keep us busy.”
I smiled and gently picked up sashimi from the long leaves on our plate’s thigh. The thigh nearest me. She had nice knees, perfectly smooth and unscarred, small too, she was very finely boned. I wondered if she were married or if she had any children. My gaze was drawn to her left hand. She wore no ring.
“So what do you do in your spare time?” Rai asked, munching on tuna sushi.
“I like to hike, check out equipment for the business and I’ve also just enrolled on a youth volunteer scheme to help city kids get outdoors and learn survival skills.”
“Sounds good.”
“Yeah, should be. I hate to think of kids not being able to put up a tent, get a fire going, or find food in the forest. These are skills which should be kept alive, not left to die out.”
“I could not agree more.”
And so the conversation led onto Rai’s experiences of outdoor expeditions not just in Japan and the UK but also in Nepal. He had a keen interest in climbing and spoke of fantastic adventures at the foothills of Everest, somewhere I’d also visited, but luckily without snowstorms or colleagues with fractured ankles.
The sushi and sashimi gradually diminished, my stomach felt full and so did my dick. The lovely breasts shifting before me, and the absolute physical control our Geisha plate had over her dainty little body could not be ignored.
“That was truly delicious,” I said, wiping my fingers on my napkin.
“I am glad you approve.”
I smiled and licked my lips. The fresh, fragrant flavors hummed gently in my mouth. I had enjoyed so many tangy essences and delicious tingles on my tongue.
The curtain drew back and with perfect swiftness waiters removed the now empty leaves from our lovely plate, exposing her slopes and curves in all their lusciousness once again.
Another glass of sake was poured and enjoyed.
“Thank you so much for accompanying me to The Geisha Plate,” Rai said. “I hope you enjoyed your meal as well as hearing all about Koni’s new products.”
“Very much,” I said, my head a little muzzy from the strong rice wine. “I will certainly be interested in contracting stock for both national and international stores.”
Rai grinned, balling his rosy cheeks into two apples. That news and the wine had made him flushed too. I was pleased—it made me feel less inept at handling my drink.
“I hope you won’t mind,” Rai said, “if I leave you to enjoy dessert alone. Jun will be waiting up for me. Naturally Koni will be picking up the evening’s bill so have whatever you fancy.”
“Well, I...” Dessert? Despite the small morsels of sushi, I’d eaten a big pile of the stuff. I wasn’t sure I could handle anything more to eat.
“Dessert in this restaurant is highly recommended,” Rai said, standing, his expression one of firm insistence.
I glanced at our exposed—except for the white flower over her pussy—plate. She was, as she had been throughout the entire meal, completely still, completely passive.
Rai held out his hand.
I shifted upward and took it.
“Enjoy,” he said with a smile. “I will call you next week, with your permission of course, to organize contracts.”
“Absolutely, looking forward to it.” I sat back on my cushion. Perhaps something sweet before I caught a cab home would be nice. I was in no rush to get back to my bed—alone. Stretching out on cool sheets and sleeping without being disturbed by another human presence had gotten old several months ago.
Rai gave a brief bow, shifted from our booth and drew the heavy curtains up tight.
I poured another shot of sake, rasped my hand over my stubbled chin and sighed. Fleetingly, thoughts of our business conversation popped into my mind but before I knew it my gaze was roaming the woman before me and I was appreciating the sight. Several grains of the rice I’d spilled were still on her flesh. There was also a seaweed-like strand of nori on her right thigh, curled in the shape of a question mark. And although the scent of cooking filled the air, I could almost believe the subtle scent of woman was also tickling my nostrils—petals, sugar and spice.
Suddenly she flicked her eyes open. I wouldn’t have noticed except that I was staring at her face when those long lashes fluttered upward.
My heart flipped in surprise and a bubble of both suppressed lust and shock popped in my belly.
She stared straight up at me with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that held such richness and such depth I could have just jumped straight in and drowned a happy man.
She poked out the tip of her tongue, pointed and pink, and swept over the scarlet lipstick at the center of her mouth.
My dick responded to the action. It had settled slightly but was instantly heading back to full hardness. I tried to will it into submission but without success. That damn tip of her tongue was just too much for the dirty side of my imagination.
She moved her arms, dainty movements, but they seemed startling after such a prolonged period of stillness. She rose, her breasts shifting from their side-sloped position to a perfect palmful of softness with heavy undersides. Her nipples stayed jutting out, like ripe cherries topping cupcakes.
“Mr. Alan,” she said in a tinkling little voice. “Are you ready for dessert?”
“I-I, er, yes…yes.” Why was I stuttering? I never stuttered.
The pale corners of her mouth tipped and the reflection of the candles sparkled in her eyes. She slid to the very edge of the table and the flower covering her pussy lips fell to the floor as well as the few remaining grains of rice and the clinging piece of nori.
Instinctively, I reached for the flower, clasped the short stalk and handed it to her, at the same time wondering what she would use as modesty when she left the booth to order my dessert.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was almost singsong, music to my ears, a tickle to my cock.
I struggled to keep my attention on her face. For although I’d stared at her luscious body for over an hour, now that she was moving there were a whole load of other pretty curves and seductive shapes to appreciate and study. Sexual awareness simmered inside me and the effect of her proximity vibrated in my belly so hard I was sure she’d be able to feel it in the air.
“Please rest back,” she said, nodding to the solid wall that held the bell and the row of candles. I couldn’t have rested on the wall directly behind me, it appeared made of paper with a crisscross of dark wooden struts.
I twisted and shuffled backward, the stiff fullness of my dick hindering my movements.
“I hope you enjoy your dessert as much as you have enjoyed your main course,” she said, dropping to her knees in the small gap between table and my cushion-style chair.
Her shiny raven-black hair spread over her shoulders, several strands skimming the rise of her breast, the blunt ends twirling around her nipples.
“Well, yes, I am sure I will. The food here is lovely.”
I gulped as she placed her elegant hands on my knees. Her nails were long and painted pale pink. Her gaze stayed locked on mine.
What is she doing?
She smoothed her palms up my thighs. My skin was hypersensitive, I was so turned-on by her nakedness and the rubbing of the cotton on my leg. A new glut of lust shot to my cock. I glanced at the curtain, opened my mouth to speak.
“Shh,” she soothed, her eyelids drooping as though heavy with a lust that matched my own. “No one will come in.”
“But—”
“Just enjoy your dessert, Mr. Alan. For you it is all part of the service at The Geisha Plate.”
Her gaze was so intense I could hardly breathe. And when the tips of her fingers brushed the bulge at my groin I did actually stop breathing. Held my breath tight as though I was about to jump into the ocean for a deep-sea dive.
She licked her lips, slowly, suggestively, smudging the red blob of lipstick at the center.
Is she going to do what I think she is?
No!
My whole body was strumming with primal tension. My balls ached and boiled, my gut clenched. If I’d felt a little drunk before, now I was as sober as a rock. I was here in the moment, caught up in the spell she’d weaved around me.
“Relax,” she said, cupping my dick through my pants. “Relax and let me suck your penis into my mouth.”
Fucking hell!
Blowing out a breath, I balled my fists. Had I heard her right? Had she really just said she was going to suck my penis into her mouth? Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought and I was hearing things I wanted to hear. Because right now, the idea of her sucking my cock was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.
She tilted her head, her hair shifting on her shoulders like a river of silk. Her super-long lashes batted against her cheeks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Alan?”
What man wouldn’t? This was a dream come true. A blowjob all part of the service.
Hell yeah!
“I, er, yes,” I managed in a raw, throaty voice. I glanced at the bell. The inappropriate touching rule came back to me. Fuck, she was stroking my shaft through my pants. I was sure that would class as inappropriate. Highly inappropriate.
The tiniest of giggles escaped her lips. “Oh, you are a worrier,” she said, rising up slightly and reaching for my zipper. “But I like that, it means you don’t take women for granted.”
“No. No definitely not. And as long as you are sure then…ah…ah…”
My dick surged as she reached into my clothing and pulled my shaft free. I stared down at her skillful stroking movements.
“Jesus, really?” I gasped.
“Yes, really.”
Her hands were shockingly small and pale against my swollen, dark-with-arousal member. I couldn’t help a rush of male pride at the size of myself in comparison to her.
“You are a good man, Mr. Alan,” she said. “And now you can enjoy your dessert, but, sh…” She closed her fingers around my hard-on. “You must be quiet so as not to disturb other diners.”
She dipped her head and I saw the almost translucent whiteness of her scalp where her hair parted.
Oh fuck, keep quiet, John. Don’t make this end.
“Yes, yes, okay,” I whispered, gritting my teeth.
She was exploring the head of my cock now, rubbing her fragile little fingers around the ridge beneath my glans, fondling my frenulum, something that always got my balls retracting. My thighs flexed, tensing around her body that had somehow squeezed between my legs. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from begging for more, to keep from exclaiming my desperation and pleasure.
I wanted to feel her lips on my cock more than anything. Of course if she had changed her mind and walked away I would have accepted it, but right now, that was just not part of my thought process. No way.
“You have a big penis,” she whispered, shooting a look up at me that thrummed with sensual promise and, dare I say it, admiration.
Damn, as if my control isn’t precarious enough.
In answer to her compliment, my cock bobbed within her hand and the tendons at the base tightened.
She smiled and her attention returned to my erection. She swiped her index finger over my slit then took my entire head into her hot, sweet mouth.
Oh, shit.
I was sure we shouldn’t be doing this. There was something wrong about it, anyone could come in, but fuck me sideways, it felt so damn good, I was going to take what I could.
Within the heat of her mouth, her darting tongue swirled around my tip, drawing a long, low moan from my chest that I had to clamp in my throat. She was going to finish me off pretty damn quick if she wasn’t careful.
I stretched out my fingers, wanting to mesh them into her poker-straight, shiny hair. But I didn’t dare touch her, didn’t dare risk anything spoiling the wonderful, heavenly moment of feeling a woman’s mouth embrace my cock. I jabbed my nails into my palms, balling my fists and pressing them into the soft seat.
She sank low, my belly trembled and carnal bliss took over. I shut my eyes, dropped my head onto the wall behind me and allowed every wet sensation she gave to envelop my shaft—the hardness of her palate, the moist strength of her tongue, the depth of her throat.
The suction inside her mouth increased as she pulled back up. She stroked her fingers over my saliva-coated flesh as it eased from her lips, her fingertips skilled and teasing. The moist little noises she made were an erotic caress to my ears, gentle laps and slurps, her taking me shallow and deep.
Everything else ceased to exist except for her warm mouth and talented tongue. I tore open my eyes and looked down at her head bobbing at my groin. I could barely contain myself—the image of her giving me such pleasure while I was not reciprocating was almost too much. I had to once again force myself still, take what was being offered and not turn it into something more. Something much more. Like pushing her to the table and fucking her hard. Burying my dick in her small, sweet body.
She dropped low then pulled up, creating a firm and steady rhythm. Each time my head hit the molten resistance at the back of her mouth the burn in my bollocks intensified. Pressure built at the base of my cock, growing and swelling. The agony of holding it back tensed my abs and shot my heart rate to dangerous levels.
I clenched my jaw, peeled back my lips. I was going to come. It was there boiling, getting ready to erupt.
“Fuck, I’m going to…”
She upped the speed, deepened the welcoming entrance of her throat.
I was far from inexperienced when it came to receiving blowjobs, I had been a lucky guy over the years, but Jesus, this was something else. This blew every other suck-off out of the water.
The glorious tingle at the base of my dick told me I was there. There was no turning back. I gulped in a breath and shut my eyes. Bright lights exploded behind my lids. The tingles became an electric whip of sensations, surging up my shaft. Wondrous beats of release poured from me in gratifying pulses.
My copious wet heat mixed with hers and still her head bobbed—she didn’t change pace or jar at the sudden filling of her throat. On and on she sucked and swallowed, drawing out every last throb of my orgasm. It was excruciating bliss, an agony of ecstasy .
“Please,” I gasped. “I can’t…” It was too much. Never before had I been given a blowjob by a stranger, never had oral sex made my entire body buckle or my cock become so sensitive before, during and after climax.
As if sensing my desperation, she slowly lifted her head. Her withdrawing lips made my body jerk then sag. She caught my spent dick in her hand, kissed it tenderly, as if soothing it, paying extra attention to the tip and my swollen slit.
I wanted to pull her up. Hold her tiny, naked body close to mine. Thank her for the wonderful thing she had just done and make her come with the same intensity. But I didn’t, I just sat there gasping for breath and hoping that at the height of my climax I hadn’t shouted out and disturbed other patrons of The Geisha Plate.
Finally, she broke away and stood.
Her body was lithe and agile in the small space, mine big and cumbersome, I was hot and panting.
Heart hammering, I looked at her face. Her lipstick, so perfect and precise before, was hopelessly smudged, as was her chalky makeup, which now revealed the tan skin of her face. Her eyes shone. Was it approval of me or the satisfaction of a job well done? I couldn’t be sure.
My mushed brain kicked back into gear. Hastily, I tucked my softening cock away, shifting on the cushions and muttering when my knee knocked the table and my zipper proved fiddly.
She licked her lips and watched my movements and damn if my dick didn’t twitch with renewed arousal at the sight of her soft body and stiff nipples.
“I will send you in green tea,” she said quietly, “for you to enjoy before your journey home.”
* * * *
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