A Blow Job for Dessert

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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

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Written by Lily Harlem
Uploaded October 18, 2020
Notes Delicious food served on the naked body of a Japanese beauty, what's not to love? Oh, and she has an unexpected, erotic dessert organised for you, too!
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