The seductive Japanese female teacher

As time passed, my close female friends gradually left me. Several married and moved to the United States, Australia, and Japan, while those who remained in China also found their own homes. As the saying goes, "The Yellow Crane has flown away, never to return; only the Yellow Crane Tower remains," leaving behind only emptiness and desolation.

Just as the harsh winter arrived, the plants withered, and my mind was in turmoil, I received a call from a strangely shaped number. Upon answering, I learned it was a call from a friend who had married and moved to Japan two years prior. After some greetings and conversation, she said she needed my help with something: some of her Japanese friends were coming to China for New Year's and she wanted me to host them in Beijing. She also offered to bring me some Japanese cigarettes and my favorite Indian tea. I readily agreed.

Because of the language barrier, hosting them would be difficult, so she called several times to urge me to make sure they were well taken care of, telling me that these were her closest and most frequented friends since arriving in Japan. For convenience, they went directly to Shanghai after arriving in China, where they were accompanied by Masako, a teacher at the Japanese Language Department of Hangzhou University, to explore southern China. Masako then accompanied them to Beijing for sightseeing before returning to Japan.

I met Masako and the three Japanese women who came with her at Beijing Railway Station. The night before, I spoke with Masako on the phone; her beautiful voice and fairly fluent Mandarin excited me greatly. Having never met Japanese women before, I was curious and kept wondering what their arrival meant for me—were they prey delivered to my door or a New Year's gift?

The express train from Shanghai arrived in Beijing around 7:00 AM. Upon meeting them, I was somewhat disappointed. None of them were very old; the oldest was Masako, only about 27 or 28. Their figures were really not flattering; apart from Masako, who was acceptable, the others were all short and stocky, like piglets. However, their skin was nice, their faces fair, and they were quite attractive with light makeup.

We were arranged to stay at the Xiyuan Hotel (a five-star hotel), two people per room, and then we went sightseeing together. Masako had been to Beijing before, so she acted as a translator, and I was the driver and tour guide. The daytime tour was relaxed and enjoyable; everyone chatted and laughed, and despite it being our first meeting, there seemed to be no awkwardness. They kept taking photos with me in groups, which made me a little embarrassed. Masako noticed my awkwardness and laughed, telling me that it was normal in Japan because they were all unmarried women, and that they were always like this, even more so in China. She added that they could take the photos with me back home and show them off to their friends. I didn't understand, but I let it go; I had nothing to lose. What attracted me most was the relatively prettier Hirano. Her face was very distinctive, and her smile was truly radiant and captivating. She was talkative and energetic, and when taking photos, she would either ask me to put my arm around her waist or lean against me, pressing her face against my ear. I spent the whole day with them, hugging and embracing them without any restraint, even in broad daylight. Where else could I find such a treat?

That evening, I treated them to Peking duck at Quanjude. They ate, praised it, and even sang, attracting many strange looks. I had hoped to have some fun with them that evening, but after dropping them off at their hotel, only Yako said she wanted to see the Beijing night view and asked me to drive her around. The others waved goodbye and went upstairs.

There was a bit of silence in the car when it was just the two of us. Once we were on the Third Ring Road, I touched her thigh to break the awkwardness. She acquiesced and even smiled at me. I then reached between her legs, and she seemed nervous, pressing my hand down to signal me to stop. Her expression was complicated. I pulled my hand away and said, "You've been in China for over half a year. Can you tell me your thoughts on Chinese men?"

She said, "I didn't expect Chinese men to be even more lecherous than Japanese men" (classic, a single sentence summed it all up).

I was taken aback. Was she talking about me? Afraid of ruining things, I quickly changed the subject. We talked about China's ancient history and its current changes, and about Chinese men and women. She became particularly excited and animated when talking about men.

She said Chinese men are generous but cunning, their lust is evident in their eyes and faces; Chinese women are conservative yet confident, the complete opposite of Japanese women. I tried to tease her by making a slightly risqué joke. She just laughed and wouldn't respond, which made me feel quite awkward. We rested for a while in the parking lot at the entrance of Fragrant Hills Park, smoking together. She said, "Do you know what I said to them just to get to come out with you?" I said you invited me to visit one of your friends who had studied in Japan. Hirano wanted to come along, but I told her it was impolite to go without an invitation, and she finally gave up. In the end, she even said that I was biased and only invited her because I'm pretty.

I laughed for a long time and shook my head repeatedly. No wonder Hirano gave me a strange look when I left. I said to Masako, "If I had known what you were talking about, I would have let them come along."

Masako said, "If they had all come, I wouldn't have come." Hirano is the youngest and most playful, but she's a very nice and cheerful person, though cunning. She told me about you as soon as she saw you, saying you're like a man, a good friend, and that you're always on time to pick me up from the station early in the morning, etc. She said a lot of things she shouldn't have. I thought to myself, what if you understood Japanese? We'd be so embarrassed, like standing naked in front of you.

She continued, "My face is burning. They must be talking about me behind my back again. I don't care what they say. I just felt down and wanted to go for a walk. I've been dealing with all sorts of people at the hotel, but I still feel lonely. I have no friends in China, nothing but work."

Hearing her say that, my heart sank, and I understood everything. I took her hand and said, "Friends' affairs are my own affairs. It's only right that I host you."

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but she became more talkative: "Hirano is right. You're the kind of Chinese man I've always imagined. The first time I saw you, I thought you were very kind, honest, and approachable, with the demeanor of an elder." Actually, I've met quite a few Chinese men in the six months I've been in China. Their generosity has amazed me, but what I can't tolerate is their lustful looks at people in work or business settings. It's really outrageous.

I turned to her and stroked her hands, saying, "Lust is a man's nature; if you don't, you're not a man. But you Japanese men are just better at pretending."

She said, "I see you're a little embarrassed."

I said, "You're my friend's friend. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't dare. How can I face my friends again?"

She seemed confused, so I repeated myself before she understood. She nodded and said, "Oh, I see."

It was already past ten o'clock, and I suggested going back to the hotel. She disagreed, saying, "I'm going back to Hangzhou tomorrow night. It wasn't easy for me to come to Beijing; I should enjoy the night view."

Naturally, I couldn't refuse, so I drove around the Third Ring Road again until almost midnight before heading back.

To be honest, I had lustful thoughts and wanted to stop on a quiet side of the road and be intimate with her several times, but I never dared.

Like I said, it wouldn't be good to explain to my friends!

The next day was still sightseeing. Because Yako's flight back to Hangzhou was at eight o'clock that evening, we went back to the hotel early, had a simple dinner, and then I took Yako to the airport. As we parted, Masako gave me a note, saying, "The arrangements are all here. Come visit me in Hangzhou sometime." She then bowed deeply to me. I patted her shoulder, touched her face, and gave her a light hug as a farewell.

Two days of exhaustion and fruitless work left me somewhat disheartened, so I went straight to bed after a shower. Lying in bed, I remembered the note Masako had left. Opening it, I was stunned. It was written in Chinese by Masako. The first item was that Hirano had invited me to her room at 9:30 that evening, saying she had a gift for me.

It turns out Masako and Hirano used to share a room, but now that Masako is gone, only Hirano is left. I naturally knew what the gift was. I was thrilled and quickly got dressed, ignoring the cold weather, and drove to Xiyuan. I gently knocked on Hirano's door; it was almost ten o'clock. Hirano at this moment was completely different from the Hirano during the day. Her long hair, which had been tied up during the day, was now flowing over her shoulders. Dressed simply, she looked charming and beautiful. If I hadn't known beforehand that she was Japanese, I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between her and a Chinese woman. Her first action when she saw me surprised me. She smiled and opened her arms, waiting for me to fall into her embrace. Without thinking, without even taking off my coat, I hugged her tightly, kissing her chubby cheeks and forehead passionately, then turned and forcefully pushed her down onto the bed. The movements were so natural, so coordinated, just like old lovers on a date. As we rolled back and forth, my heart pounded wildly. I felt like I had a rabbit in my arms. The warmth of the heater made my mouth dry, and my throbbing erection fueled my lust. There was no need for me to maintain my daytime gentlemanly demeanor anymore; my wolfish nature instantly surfaced. Without hesitation, I stripped her naked, then watched her alluring posture on the bed as I undressed her. Trembling, she bent her legs, hands covering her chest, eyes wide, gazing at me timidly. Her shifty eyes flickered with shyness and expectation. I loved that look; I had never seen a woman look at me like that before. While a lewd gaze can certainly arouse a man's wicked thoughts, that shy look transformed my initial wickedness into intense lust.

Although the outcome was the same, what followed carried a touch of humanity and nobility.

Please forgive my clumsy attempt at concealment and pointless excuses; wolves don't wear clothes, and wolves are inherently cruel and cunning.

Actually, I was a little scared, after all, it was my first time sleeping with a Japanese woman. After undressing, I picked her up and put her under the blanket, dimmed the light, and slowly touched her whole body. Hirano's skin was well-maintained, soft, delicate, white, and smooth. She was rather plump, with an unattractive waist, and her breasts, though quite large (due to her flesh), were slightly sagging, with very tender nipples. Her most striking feature was her thick pubic hair, which felt prickly to the touch. In bed, she was more proactive than I was. She kissed my ear, smelled my scent, and vigorously stroked my erect penis with both hands; I used my legs to clamp her body and rubbed my chest against her breasts, clearly feeling her nipples grow larger and harder, and when I touched her genitals, I found she was already wet. Just as I was about to mount her, I suddenly remembered something—I'd forgotten to bring a condom. She seemed to sense something too, touching her slowly softening penis, and looked up at me. How could I explain this to her? I could only gesture with my hands. Thankfully, she understood. She got up and wrote the English abbreviation for AIDS on the hotel's notepad, then shook her head and smiled at me. I understood too. I thought, since I'm already here, I can't back down. Life is a gamble, isn't it? At worst, I'll gamble again.

I pulled her back onto the bed, spread her legs, and inserted my penis into her wet slit. She instinctively tightened her lower abdomen, lifting her legs to let me penetrate deeper, so the head of my penis immediately hit her cervix. After a few thrusts, she started moaning intermittently, her voice very soft, her head swaying back and forth, it was hard to tell if it was pain or excitement. To control my ejaculation, I stopped thrusting and lay on top of her, enjoying the sensation. The feeling of not wearing a condom was very real. Perhaps because of the high lubrication, her vagina wasn't very tight; the vaginal walls were slightly firm, a sign of her strong leg muscles. My penis felt like it was inserted into a muscular tube. She thought I was tired and gestured for me to get up and let her be on top. I was happy to, because I don't ejaculate in the woman-on-top position. She took a moment to adjust, then her movements became more vigorous, almost always pulling out and then thrusting in again, each time all the way in. After a while, she turned 180 degrees to face me and began thrusting in and out. I saw her labia minora everting with each thrust, a vibrant, bright red. The bed in Xiyuan was quite nice, sturdy and stable, with the perfect balance of firmness and softness. During the thrusting, I could only hear her moans and the wet sounds of friction. The gentle flow of fluid had already dampened my pubic hair, glistening in the dim light.

I waited patiently, leisurely watching her performance.

Her back was sweating, and her movements slowed slightly, but she showed no sign of stopping. Japanese women are far more dedicated than Chinese women (using "dedicated" to describe her is extremely inappropriate). Even a wife wouldn't be this dedicated, let alone a prostitute. I'm not praising her, nor am I pitying her. This was a contest, a contest between a Chinese man and a Japanese woman, a contest of humanity, a contest of psychology, and also a contest of physical strength and sexual skill. The contest was like a battle; not only did you have to win, but you had to make your opponent admit defeat wholeheartedly, embodying the refined and scholarly spirit of a Chinese man. At this moment, there were no national boundaries, no language barriers, only the language of sex and the body.

I supported her thick waist, got up, and made her lie down. I knelt behind her, slowly thrusting into her. It seemed she liked or was used to this position. It should have been my initiative, but she took the lead, moaning rapidly, quickening her pace, and occasionally turning to look at me, saying things I couldn't understand. I figured she was saying she felt good, or urging me to speed up. I felt that her words weren't meant for me to understand, but rather part of her sexual release—things she would probably say to anyone. I didn't care what she said; I just wanted to see how she would perform at the crucial moment. I didn't want to ejaculate quickly, nor would I; I was full of confidence facing the challenge. After several seconds, she couldn't take it anymore, letting out a few cries, ignoring me, stretching her legs and lying face down on the bed, my penis slipping out. Her taut legs trembled rhythmically, her sweat-drenched back flushed.

This was her reaction to an orgasm. After less than a minute, she got up again, gesturing for me to continue in that position. As soon as I entered, she began thrusting impatiently, even more frantically than before, reaching another orgasm in just a few seconds. This cycle repeated six or seven times until she collapsed completely. I leaned over her, my penis slipping out as I tried to thrust, the overflowing vaginal fluid covering her entire vulva. The dilated vagina made entry and exit easy, but her slightly large buttocks were a hindrance. After several unsuccessful attempts, I gave up.

I turned on the light, turned her over, and quietly watched her. She was still panting, her eyes slightly open, her arms protecting her chest, seemingly still caught in the throes of extreme excitement, looking quite disheveled. I gestured for her to continue, but she weakly shook her head and closed her eyes to sleep. I pulled the sheet over her, sat on the sofa, drank some water, and my mind wandered.

Why are Japanese women so uninhibited during sex? They pursue orgasm after orgasm until they collapse exhausted on the bed.

Why can they so freely open their bodies to a foreign man they've never met before, without regard for national dignity or personal integrity?

Why can she quickly follow one orgasm with a short interval between them, and that interval is getting shorter and shorter? Is it due to physical strength or mental factors? What enjoyment does she derive from each orgasm?

These mysteries perplexed me. I consider myself experienced and knowledgeable about sex (I used the online name "Sex Doctor" and discussed men and women with many knowledgeable people). Yet, what I saw left me bewildered.

The sound of the television I turned on woke her. She smiled apologetically at me, got out of bed, knelt before me, and began to greedily suck on my still-erect penis. She licked, sucked, and swallowed without restraint, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and my penis quickly became erect again. I pressed her head down and thrust deeper, and she didn't object, even swallowing the liquid in her mouth. I was a little touched; my initial relaxed mood returned to a state of heightened excitement, and she sensed it too.

She went back to the bed, sometimes lying face down, sometimes reclining, her eyes always on me, gesturing for me to choose a position.

I waved her away, and her face immediately turned serious. In her haste, she said in English: "Go on."

I understood what she meant; I never expected my English, learned twenty years ago, would come in handy here for the first time.

I found it amusing and gestured for her to continue using her mouth, which she readily and diligently did. After a while, I laid her down and thrust in hard. Her

vagina was still wet and slippery; it went in easily. She cooperated fully with my movements, her initial arrogance gone, her moans much softer. I thought to myself: Japanese women only know a few tricks; let's see how good you are, and see who laughs last.

Holding her plump body felt quite nice, more appealing than a skinny woman. I slowly and deliberately controlled the pace, wearing down her stamina and eroding her will. For over half an hour, I tried every position I'd ever used before, experimenting again and again, to the point that even I felt I was going a bit too far, yet she still smiled and responded to me. When I presented her with my soon-to-ejaculate penis, she didn't hesitate to take it into her mouth, streams of semen shooting straight down her throat. She looked up at my excited expression as I ejaculated, her face radiating satisfaction.

I straddled her, letting her lick and caress me, feeling a surge of pleasure at being served by a Japanese woman.

I was also covered in sweat and wanted to shower. She sensed my intention, pulled me to the bathroom, adjusted the water temperature, helped me into the tub, and thoroughly washed me from head to toe, before drying me off. The service was truly attentive; Japanese men are indeed more fortunate than Chinese men. As I was getting dressed, she looked at me with a questioning gaze. I pointed to my wrist and then to the door, meaning it was getting late and I should leave. She seemed about to cry, clinging to me tightly. We couldn't communicate due to the language barrier. I didn't want to spend the night here, nor did I want to continue. Two days of non-stop running, and just now, after that physical struggle, I was exhausted. She pointed to her bed and another empty bed, nodding repeatedly. I knew she meant she was okay with sleeping together, or sleeping in the other bed. I checked the time on my phone and was shocked; it was almost 3 a.m. I shook my head helplessly, and, still holding her, lay back down on the bed.

Just then, the room phone rang, and I tensed up.

It was Yako calling from Hangzhou University.

Hirano and Yako chatted animatedly on the phone, but unfortunately, I couldn't understand a word. However, from Hirano's expression and occasional gestures, I could tell she was telling Yako what had just happened. While they were on the phone, I finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to say goodbye to Hirano. To my surprise, their conversation became increasingly animated, and Hirano, completely naked, began masturbating, leaving me utterly astonished and unsure what to do. I looked displeased, reached out and tugged at the sheet beneath her, pointing to the door to indicate I was leaving. She paused, then grabbed my wrist and guided my hand to her genitals.

I had lost interest, especially finding her masturbation repulsive, and felt a strange mix of emotions. Out of consideration for my male pride and her earlier attentive service, I could only symbolically touch her a few times (Japanese women are so slutty, another flood of fluids). I pointed to the phone, indicating I needed to speak with Masako. She nodded, mumbled a few more words, and handed me the phone.

I said, "Hello, Ms. Masako, was your journey smooth?"

Masako: "Thank you, thank you."

I said, "I should be thanking you; you made my evening very pleasant."

Continuous, seductive laughter came from the phone. Then she said, "You're amazing, Chinese men are amazing."

I said, "Oh? Did she tell you everything?"

Masako: "Hirano told me everything." I invited you to Hangzhou. Would you accept?

Me: Why wouldn't I? I'll go to Hangzhou at the right time to see the beautiful West Lake and the beautiful Ms. Yako.

Another burst of laughter came from the phone. I thought to myself, is Yako also masturbating naked over there like Hirano? If so, the scene would be quite touching. Seeing Hirano standing there in a daze, I said: Please tell Hirano that I have to go home. I'll pick them up from school tomorrow to go to the airport.

Yako: Hirano said she doesn't want you to leave. She said she wants you to stay with her until dawn. Are you willing?

I said: I'm a married man. It's not right for a man to stay out all night. Please understand, and please tell her to understand as well.

Yako thought for a moment and said: Okay, you go home. I'll tell her.

I quickly handed the phone to Hirano. They said a few words and hung up.

I covered Hirano with a blanket, kissed her chubby neck a few times, and waved goodbye.

The lobby downstairs was dimly lit and quiet. I grabbed my coat and headed towards the parking lot, braving the biting wind.

At eight o'clock sharp, I arrived at the buffet restaurant on one side of the lobby. The three women were already there, having collected their luggage and paid their bill, waiting for me. Seeing me, they smiled and bowed. I quickly nodded in return and hurried off to get my food. Everyone says Japanese women are gentle, refined, and well-mannered, but that's not entirely true. "Three women make a drama" is a perfect description of them. For the ten minutes or so of our meal, their mouths never stopped. They ate and chatted animatedly, clearly judging me and taking advantage of my lack of Japanese. Hirano must have told them about what happened between us in bed. I remained silent, hoping to get rid of these Japanese witches (no! They should be called harlots!).

After seeing Hirano off, I called Masako from my office. Masako said that Hirano had already called from the waiting room.

Masako also said, "Thank you for your care. They all had a great time, except for Hirano, who said she didn't get enough fun. Please forgive any shortcomings. I'm leaving China this June, so welcome to Hangzhou."

I went to Hangzhou after the Spring Festival. After signing a project agreement in Shanghai, I made a detour to Hangzhou. It was still a bit early for visiting West Lake, but my main purpose was, of course, to see Masako. I only called her after I arrived at the university where she works. Less than two minutes later, she came out of the gate. She was wearing a black short skirt suit, a white shirt, a black ribbon, and light professional makeup; from a distance, she looked dignified, elegant, and radiant. I stood up and waved to her.

I'm afraid I can't describe the expression on her face the moment she saw me. She was all smiles and walked gracefully towards me.

When she reached me, she bowed and said, "Hello (in Japanese)!"

I shook her hand, looked into her eyes, and said, "You're so beautiful."

She said, "I didn't expect you to come so soon."

I said, "Should I have told you in advance so you could be prepared?"

She: No! No! I mean, I was so nervous seeing you all of a sudden. Did I act really badly?

I smiled and said: No! You're so beautiful! I even want to kiss you right now, is that okay?

She instinctively covered her mouth, lowered her head, and said: No, no.

Seeing her a little embarrassed, I asked her softly: Are you busy with work? Should I not bother you?

She also realized that her lapse in composure was affecting her image at university. She looked up at me, casually brushed her stray hairs, and sat up straight.

I said: Is it convenient for me to stay here? I also like to stay in hotels near West Lake (she mentioned on the phone that she would stay in her university apartment in Hangzhou, and I was still unsure, testing her and leaving myself an out).

She: Isn't it good to stay here?

I: It's not that it's bad, it's just that I was worried it might be inconvenient for you.

The room is on the tenth floor, a corner unit, a small suite with a living room, unlike a standard room. I usually stay at the New World Hotel when I come to Hangzhou, this is my first time staying here.

I checked the time, it wasn't even five o'clock yet. I'll take a hot shower first, then sleep a bit, so I'll be energetic at night. I had just fallen asleep when someone knocked on the door. It was a waiter bringing fruit. The waiter left the fruit and took my sleepiness with her. I ate the fruit while watching TV, waiting for her to finish work.

It was almost seven o'clock when Yazi called, saying the car was downstairs and we'd go to Lou Wai Lou for Hangzhou cuisine. Yazi met me at the elevator, and we walked through the lobby together. The doorman opened the car door for me, and Yazi got into the driver's seat.

This time, it was her turn to drive.

The food at Lou Wai Lou suited my taste—light and delicious. She ate very little, mostly just watching me eat, but I didn't care. To be honest, it was much more civilized than the way she ate Peking duck.

After dinner, I suggested we drive around West Lake before heading back. We walked all the way to Liuhe Pagoda and stopped by the riverbank not far from the old Qiantang River Bridge. I took her hand and kissed it, and she turned and hugged me back, our lips naturally meeting. Neither of us paid attention to the headlights of passing cars; we just held each other and kissed. The sweet scent of chewing gum filled our mouths, and her soft, agile tongue was the best I had ever tasted—smooth, delicate, thin, and pointed. If she hadn't pulled it back, I probably would have swallowed it whole.

My hand slid down to her breasts, gentlemanly caressing them through her clothes. Her breasts weren't large; one hand could easily grasp them, and they felt very firm, not sagging even without a bra. She was completely immersed in desire; the stimulation of her breasts only accelerated her heartbeat, pushing her passion to its peak.

My hand then reached towards her inner thighs; she squeezed them tightly, resisting, but her body drew even closer, and she hugged me even tighter. Her panties and stockings were soaked with her juices, and if it continued, it would have wet the cushion. I wiped her face with my wet hands. She seemed startled and pulled away from my embrace, covering her face with her hands and turning away.

Her shy, unspoken, and delicate expression still flashes in my mind; the rich and unique Japanese feminine allure she exuded captivated me.

Seeing that it was almost time, I said, "Let's go back."

She removed her hands from her face, looked at me intently, and said, "Am I embarrassing myself?"

I hugged her and said, "I like you the way you are." She smiled, a sweet smile.

As the car pulled into the hotel, she said, "You go upstairs first, I'll change and then come find you."

I had assumed she would come upstairs with me, but hearing her say that made me a little uneasy. What if she didn't come now? Would I jump out of the window?

She said, "I need to touch up my makeup. Also, I can't go into the room with you. Don't worry, I'll definitely come."

Back home, I went into the bathroom, first extinguishing my lust with cold water, then washing away the fluid from my erection. I put on my pajamas, slipped under the blanket, and turned on the TV.

She arrived quickly, dressed simply, less serious than during the day, and more alluring—truly adorable.

Seeing me about to hug her, she shushed me with her finger, indicating I should continue watching TV, and then went into the bathroom carrying a very elegant handbag.

Listening to the rushing water, my mind raced, my heart pounding. An unquenchable lust burned within me, and my erection instantly reached its peak. The water stopped, and I turned off the TV, quietly waiting for her to appear. But she didn't come out for a long time. Unable to bear the torment of loneliness any longer, I abandoned all gentlemanly manners, pushed open the bathroom door, and found her standing there, her hands covering her face, her elbows protecting her breasts, looking dazed. I picked up her still-damp body and forcefully threw her onto the bed.

Before she could pull the sheet over her naked body, I took turns sucking on her pointed breasts, my middle finger deeply inserted into her vagina, stirring inside. She clung tightly to me, burying her face in my armpit, her legs twisting up and down.

I never performed oral sex on women before, but today I suddenly had the urge to try it on her. I spread her legs, opening her vulva, parting the dense pubic hair, rubbing her clitoris with one hand and playing with her long labia minora with the other. Since it was my first time, I carefully smelled it; it matched her scent, a fragrance I had never smelled before. I licked it—salty—and as I licked, I put her labia minora in my mouth, like eating cotton candy, it felt like it was melting. She began to struggle frantically, kicking off the blanket, pulling off the sheet, the pillow long gone. Watching her struggle was even more pleasurable than when I penetrated her. If it weren't for the Japanese in her cries, I would have almost forgotten she was a Japanese woman; it was an immense sense of conquest. I stopped playing with her, and she quieted down, trying to find a sheet to cover herself, but I held her down. She covered her face and chest, rolling from side to side. I lay down flat, pulled her onto me, and tried to insert my penis into her vagina. Because of her saliva, it went in halfway in. She pulled back down a bit, and the head of my penis was right at her cervix. I held her waist, and she arched her back, covering my eyes with her hands so I couldn't see her. She then shook herself vigorously, making the bed creak. Unlike Hirano, who thrust in and out with a long stroke, Masako swayed after penetration, letting the head of her penis rub against a certain part of her body. But the effect was the same. In less than ten minutes, she came, her vaginal fluid flowing onto my scrotum and continuing to flow down. She no longer cared about covering my eyes, hugged my head and kissed me fiercely until she bit my lips and pressed her face against mine, panting heavily. After resting for a bit, I patted her, signaling for another round. She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes, and said, "Mr. Wolf, I'm satisfied, so, so satisfied. I don't want any more, I'll die if I want more."

I rolled over and pinned her beneath me, kissing away her tears, saying, "How could that be? Hirano has far more demands than you.

Is the position wrong or uncomfortable?"

She said, "Comfortable, really comfortable. I like you; I can reach my climax in any position. Men can't understand the pleasure a woman feels at her climax."

I said, "I'm going to try to understand that today, but you have to cooperate."

She was a little scared, struggling and staring at me as if she didn't recognize me. I kept smiling at her; I knew she couldn't escape. After struggling for a while, she calmed down, looking at me helplessly, her voice pleading, "Let me go, I'm scared."

I said, "Afraid I'll hurt you?" She shook her head. "Afraid I'll bother you?" She shook her head again.

I said, "Then don't be afraid of anything, let me have some fun too."

I tried different positions with her, and she cooperated well, making soft moans, but the passion and madness from before were gone.

I came to Hangzhou specifically to have sex with Japanese women, to savor their beauty. How could I let such a rare opportunity slip away?

I said, "I'm a little tired, shall we take a bath together?"

In the bathtub, we washed each other's bodies, and a smile gradually appeared on her previously heavy face. I said, "Your skin is so white and delicate, and your waist is so flexible. Your body is like a teenage girl's."

She said with no small amount of pride, "Yes, women rely on their bodies to live. Otherwise, why would men want you? Normally, I'd probably still be at the gym right now."

I said, "No wonder. Men melt when they see you."

She stared at me and said, "Will you?"

I picked her up and carried her, saying, "Yes! I'm going to melt into you right now.

" On the bed, I stroked her pubic hair and said, "I'm going to melt right here. I'm going to make you melt too."

I gave her no time to think. I used the same trick again, first giving her oral sex for a while, then turning to suck on her earlobe while my hands kept pulling at her labia and rubbing her clitoris. Soon she was dripping wet, breathless, her eyes glazed over, and she was babbling incoherently, looking even more frantic than before.

I used my most familiar and pleasurable missionary position to insert my penis, thrusting and shaking it vigorously, holding her buttocks tightly with both hands, allowing her to move her upper body and legs, but the crucial middle part was under my control. She raised her legs and leaned back, constantly adjusting to the best position she needed, and I cooperated accordingly. A few minutes later, she reached orgasm again. This orgasm was obviously more intense than the first one. She no longer covered her face, didn't scream, didn't scratch or bite, her limbs were spread out, and she could only lie there panting heavily.

I pulled out my budding penis, roared, and aimed it at her chest and abdomen, giving it a few hard strokes. Several streams of hot fluid spurted out, splashing onto her breasts and around her navel, and a few drops also got on her pubic hair and chin. She only let out a soft moan, which was her response to my ejaculation; she couldn't even lift her eyelids anymore. I still wasn't satisfied, so I inserted my still-erect penis again, slowly thrusting in and out, savoring the sensation. Why do people like to drink Erguotou now? Because although Erguotou isn't as pure as the first-harvest liquor, it's stronger and more flavorful.

Masako and Hirano's bodies and their performance in bed have similarities and differences. The similarities are:

Good skin, lots of moisture and body hair, strong libido and quick orgasms (compared to Chinese women), both moan in Japanese (probably haven't learned the Chinese way of moaning yet). The differences are: Hirano is outgoing and straightforward, Masako is shy and reserved; Hirano focuses on quantity, Masako on quality; Hirano's moans are soft, Masako's are loud; Hirano is a bit clumsy in bed, Masako is much more agile and soft; Hirano's vagina is hard and straight, good friction but uncomfortable, Masako's vagina is soft and slippery, very comfortable for the penis inside.

Seeing that she really couldn't get up, I went to the bathroom to wash myself. When I came out, she had already made the bed and was waiting for me. I looked at her with a victor's gaze and hugged her. She used the sheet to wipe me dry and whispered, "I have to go."

I said, "Can you not go? I want to hold you while we sleep."

She said, "I have to go, I have class tomorrow, I can't stay here overnight."

I said, "Are you still afraid?" She shook her head. I said, "Tell me, are you comfortable?"

She hugged and kissed me, whispering in my ear, "You saw everything, why are you asking? I look awful today, don't laugh at me, and never again." Then she covered her face and ran into the bathroom.

When she came out, she was fully dressed, just as she had come in, except her face looked tired.

She said, "Get some sleep, you don't need to get up early. I'll arrange breakfast for you and take you to the airport."

I wanted to get up to see her off, but she waved me off. I looked at her face, at the bag in her hand, at her turning back, at her receding figure, at her walking further and further away.

I didn't sleep well that night, I kept having dreams, always dreaming of my Japanese friend speaking to me in Japanese.

I couldn't fall asleep before seven o'clock, so I finished packing, called to check the flight to Beijing, wrote a short message for Yako, sealed it, and gave it to the front desk along with the key card, asking them to give it to Yako. Then I embarked on my journey back to Beijing.

[The End]

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The seductive Japanese female teacher

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