Seduction of a Japanese Wife Pt. 03Seduction of a Japanese Wife Pt. 03


“Oh, Damon-same, I am so…how do you say it…ah, exhausted…from our pillowing. As a married woman, I should not feel such happiness and contentment in the arms of a man who is not my husband. I have become so shameless…but when you touch me, kiss me, and make love to me, I cannot help but yearn for more. Alas, what has happened to me in the confines of this love hotel?”

Such was the rhetorical remorse of the pretty Japanese wife of the absent-minded librarian who worked for me. Using her husband’s personal and professional well-being as leverage, I had manipulated and seduced his dutiful buxom wife into becoming my willing mistress who once given a “good fucking” by a real man, craved the sexual fulfillment long denied to her by her neglectful and self-centered husband. Kiyomi quickly became utterly addicted to my ‘gaijin’ (Western) cock and the fantasies and perversities that came with it.

“Hush, Kiyomi-chan. Do not berate yourself for yielding to the yearnings of your own luscious body. You are young and your carnal desires have reached the point where you can no longer deny them. Here in this love hotel where our identities are unknown to others, you are free to be and do whatever you wish. I am blessed with being the catalyst in the release of your inner-most erotic needs…something you should just accept.”

“Hai, Damon-sama. I am grateful for your tutelage in the world of pillowing. Despite my foolish worrying, I appreciate for your understanding and patience, Damon-sama. And to think that before you and my regrettably disappointing husband, I was ignorant in the ways of a man and his woman.”

“That is not quite true, Kiyomi-chan. You have shared with me that before your marriage to Ichiro, you had ‘encounters’ with the chikan on a crowded train. Those anonymous men molested you daily and despite the circumstances, you found your young body responding to their molestation. Is this not correct, Kiyomi-chan?”

My Japanese lover dropped her head and after a moment’s pause contritely uttered, “Hai, Damon-sama, you are correct. It was a period of my young adulthood that I have tried to forget. At the time, I blamed myself greatly for drawing such unwanted attention. My disgrace at being molested almost daily was increased by knowing that those around me who knew what was happening to me but did nothing – and more so of how my very own bodily responded. I experienced bodily sensations that I never knew existed and began to wonder if I was truly the ‘yariman’ (slut) as the chikan had called me.”

Tears swelled in her eyes as she remembered being sexually assaulted on the crowded commuter train. I lifted her chin and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her sensually until she responded and sighed contently. Yet, not wanting to let Kiyomi immerse herself in erotic satisfaction to forget, I urge Kiyomi to continue her disclosure of her sexual past.

“Hmmm, I seem to also recall, Kiyomi-chan, that during our last rendezvous in this love hotel, you mentioned briefly of the practice ‘enjo-kosai,’ or ‘enko’ as it is commonly referred to. This is when Japanese schoolgirls are given money or luxury gifts for spending time with older men. To my surprise, you defended enko as a time-honored custom between older men and younger women, and that it was not prostitution. It was only after being questioned by me that you finally admitted to having participated in ‘enko.'”

My mistress tried not to squirm and betray her uneasiness but failed miserably. Being totally nude, the best thing that she could do was to slightly turn her face from me as to avoid what she knew was coming next. “Look at me, Kiyomi-chan. I have not insisted that you explain more and have instead, waited for you to share this aspect of your younger life. However, my patience has worn thin. Tell me of your enjo-kosai experiences, Kiyomi-chan.”

With downcast eyes, Kiyomi nodded before murmuring contritely, “Hai, Damon-sama, ‘Honto ni gomen ne (I very am sorry).’ I have been…willful…with the hope that you would not remember what I had admitted earlier. It was a period of great uncertainty and conflict, and one that I do not wish to remember. My daily chikan encounters’ left me feeling…violated…humiliated…and doubting myself.

“I was eighteen when molested on the train and had never known a man or boy while attending an all-girl school. I had no one to whom I could tell of my ordeals. If I shared my encounters with schoolmates, the entire school would eventually come to know what happened to me and then most certainly would my family.

“My family would not have understood and would have said that I was to blame for attracting such unwelcome attention. They would claim that I had brought great loss of face upon them, and would not have considered that I was helpless once surrounded by the chikan. I became…how do you say it…ah, despondent…especially when I began believing that I was at fault.

“Then one afternoon after school, I izmir escort had decided to go to the downtown shopping area to get my mind off my worries. However, I was caught in a sudden downpour without an umbrella or coat. The rain was so heavy that even though I held my books over my head, I quickly became drenched in my school uniform.

“With nowhere to go to escape the rain, I was about to cry when I heard, ‘Watashi no ikigomi o yurushimasu’ (please excuse my forwardness) as a bamboo-and- lacquered-paper umbrella bloomed open over my head. When I turned, there was an elderly gentleman who stepped closely next to me.

“I was shocked at first but quickly recovered to mumble ‘Domo arigatou gozaimasu’ (thank you very much) as I bowed to him in gratitude. I can remember him smiling at me but in a way that made me shiver, but at the time I thought it was due to being cold and wet. He was dressed in a yukata (a light summer kimono) with wooden geta (wooden elevated Japanese slippers/footwear), and was what one would expect of a friendly old man.

“‘Don’t be afraid,’ I recalled him saying, ‘Forgive me if I startled you. I’m just a harmless old man who happened to see a lovely young lady getting soaked in the rain.’ He grinned in a kindly way but his eyes were not looking at mine but elsewhere. I gasped when I realized that he was staring at my wet blouse that clung to my bra-covered breasts. I blushed vividly when I saw that my large nipples had hardened to make sizeable bumps in the thin soaked material.

“Using my books to cover my breasts, I immediately apologized for my improper appearance and introduced myself. However, when I sought to obtain his name, but he casually said, ‘I have long since been retired and have no need for formal names. If it pleases you, will you simply call me ‘Ojisan’ (uncle)?’ While I was mildly surprised at his refusal and that he had asked my permission, I nodded and agreed since he personified what I thought an uncle should be.

“I was shivering when Ojisan said, ‘Come, little one, let us have a hot bowl of ramen (noodles in a hot broth). It will not dry you, but it will at least warm you from the inside out.’ When I meekly sought to refuse, mentioning that I had little money and did not wish to impose upon him, he chuckled and then said it must be hard to be in the shopping area. Before I could say anything, Ojisan added, ‘Not to worry, I will treat you. Please allow me, neh?”

“When I tried to politely decline, Ojisan said in a friendly manner, ‘Iya, iya, iya (No, no, no), and don’t even think of paying or owing me anything. If anything, think of it as my payment to you, a lovely young woman, for spending time with an old lonely man. Come, come, come, I won’t do anything impolite or improper in a public place as that ramen shop across the way. ‘Douzo’ (please go ahead),’ Ojisan said with a pleasant smile as he ushered me through the parted the door curtains ‘Come, let me treat you for your company and time.’

“At the time, any thought of ‘enjo-kosai’ did not occur to me. All I knew was cold and wet, the ramen was hot and delicious, and Ojisan was delightfully disarming and pleasant. He had a way about him that by the time I finished my bowl of ramen, I had unintentionally let my ordeal with the chikan on the train slip from my lips.

“I remember cringing as I expected Ojisan to blame me for the episodes with stinging comments of my unvirtuous behavior. Yet, to my complete amazement, he was very understanding and compassionate – something that I would not have expected from one of his generation. I felt myself warming to this kindly old man who not only supported and comforted me, but openly shared of his life – his marriage, the loss of his wife, and the subsequent loneliness that followed.

“The rain had stopped, and I remember saying that I must be going so as not to cause my family undue alarm. Bowing deferentially to Ojisan outside of the ramen shop. I told him that I was in debt to him and didn’t know how to repay his unexpected kindness”

“‘Ho, that is easy, Kiyomi-chan,’ Ojisan quickly replied, ‘if you are willing to keep company with this lonely old man. Perhaps one day when the weather is better, you might agree to walk with me. I enjoy talking with you and you would brighten a lonely old man’s life. I would like to hear what had happened in your day and allow me to share the same with you. I seldom talk with people…and the silence can be deafening. It would give me much esteem and pleasure for an old man like me to be seen in the company of such a lovely young woman such as yourself.’

“When I hesitated, Ojisan was quick to discern my discomfort and said, ‘Of course, if you do not wish to, then I would be pleased if you could every once in a while, simply smile and nod when you pass me by.’

“I immediately felt embarrassed for seeming to be so ungrateful for his previous kindness and humbled my unintended slight to his small and seemingly harmless request of me. Before I knew it, I found myself saying, “No, no, you misunderstand. It would be my pleasure to spend a late afternoon with you, Ojisan. Shall we say the same time and place tomorrow?”

“‘Oh, Kiyomi-chan, you do know how to delight this old man’s heart. Yes, let us meet here tomorrow right after your school on the corner where we first met. Until then…’ I gasped as my senior bowed low to me especially in public, and was quick to return his bow with an even lower one. This brought a wide smile of Ojisan’s face. ‘Remember now, anyone should inquire about us, you are to say that I’m your Ojisan. That’s all others need to know about our relationship. Agreed?’

“Wishing to make amends for my earlier etiquette mistake, I hastily but cheerfully agreed, ‘Hai, Ojisan! You will be ‘my uncle’ to those who may inquire. Please excuse, ‘your niece’ but I must go so as not to cause my family undue concern as to my whereabouts. Until tomorrow, my Ojisan.’

“Damon-sama, I was such a…how do you gaijin say it…ah, ‘clueless’…yes, a naive young woman. I was completely unaware that I had just entered into ‘enjo-kosai’ for I had been compensated by an older man for my time. Instead of being given money, I accepted a bowl of ramen in exchange for my company…a simple payment but a payment nevertheless.”

“But, Kiyomi-chan, a bowl of noodles can hardly be equated to luxury gifts or cash that are associated with ‘compensated dating.'” I let my lips wrap themselves around a jutting meaty nipple, sucking on it and drawing soft moans from Kiyomi’s lips. Then pulling back before she lost her train of thought, I urged my Japanese lover to continue her tale.

“Ummm, hai, Damon-sama. So, I would learn over time, Ojisan was very crafty and extremely patient like a spider that weaves its web and waits for a naïve fly. When we next met, we went for a casual stroll where we were seen enjoying each other’s company by many. During our stroll, he asked much about my personal life to which I shared that I was the youngest of a large family. As a result, the family resources of a scholastic family were stretched thin, leaving little for nonessential things that a young woman might want. Still, that didn’t stop me from looking in the shopping area and wishing.

“When he asked why my boyfriend had not bought me presents, I blushed and said that being in an all-girl school before my horrendous experience on the train, I had never associated with or known a male. I sadly remarked that the chikan on the train had unfortunately been my first introduction to men, and one that left me thoroughly stunned and confused. Wistfully mumbling my thoughts, I wished that one day I would find someone who would take care of me.

“Ojisan chuckled in a kindly manner as reassuringly said, ‘And so you will, Kiyomi-chan. You may be surprised just how soon you wish shall be granted. But, ah, this has been a pleasant and enlightening afternoon, and you should be getting home.’

“When I was about to say my goodbye, Ojisan produced a ‘noshibukuro’ (a small decorative gift envelope) and with both hands, offered it to me saying, ‘Tsumaranai mono desu ga’ (This is a trifling thing, but please accept it). Kiyomi-chan, a pretty girl like you should be happy. I hope that this small token will buy you something that will make you smile.’

“I can remember hesitating at the unexpected gift, Ojisan quickly added with a slight bow, ‘Do not worry. This is but a small token of my appreciation for you sharing not only your time with me but also sharing your feelings and experiences. Please, accept this for you would make an old man very happy.’

“Damon-sama, you understand my…how would you say it, ah, my ‘dilemma.’ On one hand, to accept a monetary gift while others were around us…and secretly watching the transaction…might have been viewed our outing had been a ‘joshi kosei osanpo’ or a ‘walking date’ often associated with an enjo-kosai relationship. Although Ojisan’s monetary gift had nothing to do with the exchange of sexual favors for money and in all likelihood was innocent, those around us did not know this.

“Yet, an elderly male was bowing to a high school girl to accept his offered gift. It was unseemly for me to refuse the noshibukuro that he held out to me with both hands. To do so would cause Ojisan to lose face in public and disgrace me for having humiliated my senior. Bowing low, I reached out with both hands to accept the proffered gift.

“But before letting go, Ojisan muttered in a low voice meant only for me, ‘Let us agree to meet again tomorrow, Kiyomi-chan, if your family obligations and school demands permit. Your Ojisan looks forward to continuing our sharing with one another.’

“So as not to draw further attention to us, I had no choice but to nod and say, ‘Hai, Ojisan.'”

“Letting go of his envelope, Ojisan straighten and said so that others might hear, “Buy yourself something pretty, Kiyomi-chan.’ He turned to go and then stopped and said, ‘Excuse me, Kiyomi-chan, but if possible, could you wear something more comfortable clothing than your school uniform. Perhaps a light and bright kimono, yes? It would please your Ojisan?’

With others listening, I could only say cheerfully with a quick nod of my head, “Hai, Ojisan.”

My hand lazily glided over the soft belly of the Japanese housewife who had become my lover and then slipped between her tender inner thighs. Slowly caressing her silky dark muff, I dipped a finger into her feminine slit. Kiyomi moaned appreciatively as she gyrated her hips as I traveled between her engorged pussy lips.

“Please excuse me, Kiyomi-chan,” I introjected as my hand teasingly retreated to her stomach. “There is something that bothers me. Your Ojisan seems to be… ‘setting you up’…ahh, staging…for some end purpose that is not quite clear.”

“Hai, Damon-sama. I too felt something was not right but could not discern at the time. What makes you think that I was…you do you say…’being set up?'”

“Hmmm, my first ‘red flag’ was why Ojisan refused to give you his real name, and instead, insisted that you refer to him as my uncle. Then after your first meeting, he manipulated you into meeting him the next day. Lastly, that thing with the noshibukuro not only obligated you in public but made others think that you had engaged in enjo-kosai’ with Ojisan when you had not.

“Kiyomi-chan, when you first mentioned that you had engaged in enjo-kosai’ and argued that it wasn’t teenage prostitution, I did some research. You were correct that it is a time-honored custom of elderly men compensating young girls for their time, companionship, and in many instances, sexual favors. While prostitution or paying for sex is illegal in Japan, sex not among ‘acquaintances’ is not, even if it involves an exchange of money or gifts. That is why Ojisan wouldn’t tell you his name and insisted that you call him Ojisan and especially in public…so you and he would be seen by others as ‘acquaintances.'”

“Oh, Damon-sama It is little wonder that you are my sensei for you are quite perceptive. How foolish I was, trusting a strange man. Only now I know just what a fool I had been.

“Yet, I have to confess that Ojisan had a disarming way about him so different from the ‘traditional’ men in my life. He appeared to be kind, understanding, and most of all, accepting of me and what had happened to me as would be expected of a trusted uncle. I found myself telling him everything in great detail of my humiliation that my body responded to being molested at the hands of strange men. When tears came to my eyes at my recounting, he magically produced a handkerchief, comforted me, and then urged me to continue in my disclosure. I thought nothing when his hand just happened to brush against my ample bosom as he gave me a comforting hug.

“As we continued to meet, I came to dismiss Ojisan’s brushes, strokes, and probes of my body as being inadvertent and harmless – something excusable given our growing familiarity. It did not hurt that Ojisan’s noshibukuro at the end of each rendezvous were generous, I was able to buy those things that I had long admired but could not afford. When I showed these items and clothing to Ojisan, I was rewarded with reaffirming praise and more generous noshibukuro.”

“Kiyomi-chan, from what you have told me thus far, you were innocent in your dealings with this mysterious Ojisan. You did nothing wrong…nothing to be sorry for.”

“Oh, Damon-sama, I am embarrassed to say that your conclusion was not so. I am now thoroughly ashamed at how Ojisan wormed his way into my confidence and ultimately into my kimono. The unusual closeness between our bodies should have caused me concern, yet when he complained of various bodily aches, I thought nothing of freely massaging his head, neck, and shoulders.

“It seemed natural that when Ojisan asked if he could return the favor and that I acquiesced. However, his touches, rubbings, and kneading were not confined to my head and shoulders. As we continued over time to exchange massages, his hands travel from my shoulders and down my arms, his fingers somehow managed to press into the sides of my bosom that was made bountiful by my tight obi.

“‘Ah, Kiyomi-chan,” Ojisan jokingly muttered as his hand encountered my obi, ‘Curse the man who thought of the obi that holds the kimono tightly closed. It lies just under a woman’s breasts and just above her…nether delights…and is such a formidable barrier of cloth for a lecherous old man such as I.’ Although embarrassed with his comment and uneasy with his friendly touching, I said nothing.

“Our strolls somehow ended with us sitting on a wooden bench under the eaves of a small isolated shed next to a stream. There we could talk as we sat closely side by side as water and time flowed by. Ojisan had taken to casually placing his hand on my thigh and mine on his as we talked. While such intimacy was at first disconcerting, I came to take it as a demonstration of the fondness of our relationship.”

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