I walked across the courtyard of the Olympic training center in the late afternoon after a long day of interpreting for a group of American and British journalists when I heard the distinctive, Marine drill seargent voice of Ms.
Hattori, the coach of the female gymnasts, bark out at me, "Mr. Donnely." I turned to meet her. "I'm sorry about having the girls out so late last night, Ms.
Hattori. We were at the, uh, library and we forgot about the time." "They have a day of rest today. It is acceptable to be out late on such days. Do not worry.
I would like to thank you for all the work you have done around the training center. You have been a great help." "I've enjoyed my time here. I'm glad I could help." She stayed silent a moment, like she had something on her mind but couldn't quite spit it out.
"I understand you will be leaving us soon." "Yes. I've been taking a year off from college to live here in Japan, but the next semester starts in a couple of weeks." "I see." More silence.
"I. I have noticed you are in very good physical condition," She finally said, "You must participate in some type of sport." "I was on the track team in high school, but that was a few years ago.
These days I just jog and do push ups, and lift weights sometimes." Another moment of silence. "You look like you keep yourself in good shape," I said. I wasn't lying. Although in her forties she had a very trim athletic build, not to mention a rather exotic face- wide, with high cheekbones and slightly wide set eyes, and short permed hair. If she could only drop the Hermann Goering attitude. "Thank you," She answered, bowing slightly and giving a faint, Mona Lisa smile, "I take my physical conditioning seriously, so the girls will follow my example." More silence.
It dawned on me- was she coming on to me? Had she overheard the girls talking and decided to get some for herself? I had to see. "Well, if the girls turn out as pretty as you, I won't have any complaints, Ms. Hattori." The corners of her mouth went up a few milimeters more. "Please, call me Mitsuko." Yup, I was right. I went through a few rapid mental calculations-the odds of getting her into bed by the end of the evening: good, the entertainment value of seeing this attractive but very stern and serious woman losing control while impailed on my dick: rather high.
"That's a very pretty name. If you're not busy this evening, Mitsuko, would you like to join me for dinner?" She got a pleased look on her face. "That would be very nice. I accept." We agreed to meet at a downtown restaurant that she chose after we had gone back to our apartments to change. The restaurant was a pretty fancy place, definitely more upscale than the noodle house that I took the girls to, and after we had been seated Ms.
Hattori said to me, "Your Japanese is excellent. You are studying it in school?" "Yes. I lived in Japan with my family two few years when I was younger, and decided to make Japanese my major in college." We chatted throughout dinner, with her telling me of the gymnastic competitions she was in when she was a girl and her successes as a coach.
Older Japanese women don't give any overt clues-Ms. Hattori kept her eyes on the table for most of the evening- but when she glanced up at me every so often there was a definite twinkle in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips.
After dinner we strolled through the shopping district, enjoying the warm evening, then bought some ice cream and wound up sitting on a bench in a small park. "You're really beautiful Mitsuko," I said. She blushed faintly and looked at the ground. "You take things a little too seriously though. You should try to have fun once in a while." "Thank you for your compliment. My job is very important however, and I have a great many responsibilities.
I must take things seriously." "Well, there are other important things in life, besides your job," I said, laying my hand on top of hers for a second. Public displays of affection are rare in Japan, and my touching her hand was a pretty bold move, but she responded well.
Her breathing increased sharply and her face colored slightly, but she didn't pull away. As it got late I offered to get a taxi to take her back to her place.
During the five minute trip my mind was working: If I got out of the cab with her at her apartment and let it drive away I might be insulting her with my forwardness, and if I asked her if I could come up with the cab driver overhearing us it could be embarassing to her, but fortunately Ms. Hattori bailed me out. "Perhaps. Perhaps you would like to join me for a cup of tea?" She said, apparently not worried about the driver.
"I'd like that very much," I smiled. Her apartment, a studio not much bigger than mine, was decorated in a simple, formal Japanese style; a low dining table with cushions instead of chairs, a vase with a few daffodils in the center, the bed a thin futon pad folded against the far wall and a shoji screen in the corner, as well as some framed woodblock prints on the wall.
We both removed our shoes as we entered, then she took both our jackets and hung them in the closet, and then motioned for me to sit on one of the cushions at the table.
She slid a door aside, exposing a small kitchenette, and began preparing a pot of tea. She hadn't said a word since we had entered her apartment, which would have been very uncomfortable with a western woman, but I figured an older, more traditional Japanese woman like Ms. Hattori would be used to acting quiet and defferential toward men in social situations, so I resisted the temptation to make idle chit-chat, instead just making a comment now and then.
"You've done a good job decorating your apartment. I wish mine looked this good." She turned toward me from the kitchen, bowing slightly with her Mona Lisa smile.
As soon as the water boiled she poured it into a porcelein tea pot and while she was waiting for the tea to steep, she walked silently across the room and positioned the shoji screen across a trunk that was next to the futon pad.
She disappeared behind the screen and it sounded to me like she was undressing. A few minutes later she emerged, wearing a full length satin kimono, a light violet color and elaborately embroidered, and wearing white cotton socks on her feet. "You look spectacular," I said.
She nodded politely to me as she walked back to the kitchen. Placing the tea pot and a single cup on a wooden tray, she walked over to the table, placing the tray in front of me, kneeling next to me. She slowly filled the cup, handing it to me carefully with both hands, her eyes looking downward. "It's very good," I said, taking a sip. "If you would like to be more comfortable, there is a robe in the chest," She said, motioning toward the screen, "Please feel free to put it on." Behind the screen, I took out a neatly folded knee length robe, black with red embroidery.
I stripped down and put the robe on and as I returned to the table, Ms. Hattori emptied out the tea that was left in my cup and refilled it so it would be warm. "You know," I said, "In America, a woman wouldn't serve a man like this.
They like thing to be equal." "It brings me pleasure to bring pleasure to others." "Why did you agree to go out with me tonight?" I asked. "You are a very interesting young man. You have seen a great deal of the world." "Did you overhear any of the girls talking about me?" She didn't answer, but the blush that rushed over her face said it all.
"Would you like to open the futon?" I asked. She nodded once, got up and walked across the room, moving the screen out of the way and then unfolding the thin futon pad. She then knealt down next to it and waited silently.
I walked over to her and told her to stand up. "Take your kimono off." She immediately complied, letting it fall to the floor, exposing her naked body to me. Her breasts weren't quite as high as her gymnastic students and she had a little more in her hips, but it was still a beautiful, delicate little body, her skin an even pale color all over, her pubic hair very dark black and neatly trimmed.
I slipped my robe off, Ms. Hattori politely averting her eyes, and walked around behind her, taking her in my arms and pulling her against me. I began rubbing her stomach. "What did you hear the girls say about me?" I whispered in her ear.
She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. I let one of my hands slip between her legs. "Tell me, Mitsuko." She groaned, "I. I cannot. It. It is too shameful." I lifted her off the ground and cradled her in my arms, laying her on the futon. I lay next to her and resumed massaging between her legs.
"When you said you liked to bring pleasure to other people, you were lying, weren't you? You wanted pleasure for yourself, isn't that right?" "It. It is true," She groaned, half in pleasure, half in shame.
"I am very wicked." "What did the girls say? Tell me." "You. Oh. That you. Have a. a very large penis and that.no, please." Still massaging her clitoris, I commanded, "Tell me everything." Her eyes tightly shut, she took a deep breath. "I overheard Kaori, Yukiko and Misa telling their teammates that they were with you the night before and.
and you brought them great pleasure.that you.you have a very large penis and that you were able to perform sexually three times in one evening.the older girls commented that was impressive for a man to be able to do." "And that's what you want for yourself, isn't it?" "I am very wicked.
I should be punished for this. Please, I do not deserve this," She said, trying to pull my hand from between her legs. "Do you want me to punish you?" "Yes, yes, please," She gasped, "Punish me." She said it like she was really desperate for punishment.
I remembered seeing a hand mirror in the chest that I got the robe out of. I carried it back to the bed and ordered Ms. Hattori to roll over then put my arm under her hips and lifted her butt up into the air, her head still on the pillow, her eyes tightly shut in shame. I ran my left hand over the soft, smooth skin of her buttocks, then, pulling my left hand away, brought the hand mirror in my right hand down sharply, making a loud 'crack'.
She let out a high pitched yelp. "You should think of the pleasure of men, not of your own, Mitsuko," I said, giving her several more short, firm smacks, jiggling her buttocks. "I am wicked- I am a devil," She groaned, "Please, do whatever you want to me." With each blow the pitch of her voice got lower and lower and eventually became a hoarse, breathless grunt that sounded more like sexual pleasure to me than pain.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You are a worthless slut." I gave her a few more smacks and then ordered her to put the mirror away. I lay on my back, and when she got back she knelt by the side of the futon, holding her head straight down.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" I said, stroking my now fully erect penis. "What kind of Japanese woman would think like that?" "A shameful one.A worthless one," She gasped. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was enjoying the humiliation. I guess after terorrising her gym students all day, she liked to unwind by being on the receiving end in the evening.
"Suck my dick," I commanded. She crawled on all fours over to me, gently grasping my long errection, but as she lowered her head toward it, mouth open, I slapped her across the face. "You slut-you enjoy sucking a man's penis, don't you? All you are good for is letting men fuck you." Still on her hands and knees, I moved around behind her and put the tip of my throbbing boner against the enterence to her pussy.
"I don't even know if I want to bother with someone as worthless as you. You don't even know what a slut you are." "Yes!
Yes! Please-I am a whore, I am shameful, I would kill myself for you-Please,oh, please!" I pulled one of her arms behind her back and gave it a slight twist to give her a jolt of pain before shoving my dick in her. It was nice and slippery and wet- the humiliation was all the foreplay she needed, evidently- snug, but not as tight as her teenage students, which allowed me to get a faster motion going.
Feeling the head of my dick sliding along her tight, soft, slippery pussy, I said to her, "This is what you want, isn't it- a big dick, that's all you care about." "Yes,yes," She groaned, "I am a worthless whore." Pumping her hard, her butt cheeks jiggling, I asked her, "What if it isn't big or hard enough?" "Oh, I would do anything, stroke on it, even suck on it with my mouth till it was very big and stiff." She gasped with shame.
"I am so wicked." "A proper Japanese woman could never even imagine such a thing." I said, adding a slap to her buttocks with ever thrust. I could feel her vaginal muscles tighten up around my errection and knew she was getting off on this.
I felt my orgasm building up. "Should I shoot my semen inside you?" "No," She groaned, "I do not deserve it. Put it on my face, make me swallow it, anything." Right before I came I grabbed her hair and yanked her head around. Her mouth was open, gasping for air, and I shoved my dick forcefully into it, pushing her head violently up and down on it till I started spurting cum, then, holding her head in place, grabbed the shaft of my throbbing errection and pumped wave after wave of semen in her mouth, which she had to swallow to keep from choking.
Ms. Hattori rolled over on her back, her forearm across her eyes, breathing heavily through her mouth. I let her recover for a moment before giving her another order.
"Suck my penis clean, Mitsuko," I said, holding my dick, slimy with cum. She immediately obeyed, gently holding my limp dick with her fingertips, taking the whole thing in her mouth, sucking as she pulled her lips up toward the top, then swallowing any residue she got off.
I felt my penis start to swell inside her mouth. "Do you feel it getting hard? That's what you want- it's what you're desperate for, isn't it?" My dick quickly stiffened under her vigorous sucking, and as she worked her mouth up and down I reached over and rubbed my hand over her soft, firm buttocks, then put some spit on my middle finger, reached over again and suddenly poked my finger up her butt.
"Oh, please, please," She implored, taking her mouth away from my errection. "Please, leave me with some dignity," She said, her eyes tightly shut. "Dignity? You are sucking a man's penis, desperate to get it stiff for your own pleasure. What would you call a woman like that?" "You.you are right- I am a wicked slut, a whore.
I have no right to object." She continued sucking my dick, moaning at the uncomfortable feeling of my finger intruding in this very private place. "Enough," I said,pushing her head away from my now fully erect dick. "It's hard enough for a filthy bitch like you. All right Mitsuko, how would you like to get fucked?" "You are my master," She said softly, kneeling on the futon, her head bowed deeply.
"I am worthless. I am here for your pleasure only. I will do anything you say- hurt me, abuse me, you may do whatever you wish to me." "Perhaps you are learning." I grabbed both her ankles and pulled her legs out in front of me, with her on her back, pushing her legs in the air and bending them back almost to her head.
I worked my way forward so my long errection would be lined up with her pubic region, manoevered the tip against her enterance then sank it into her. I began pumping hard, giving Ms. Hattori sudden, sharp thrusts, her entire body being jolted and her tits jiggling with each one.
She let out a squeaky gasp with each violent blow. My dick being massaged by her soft smooth pussy, it took about five minutes of driving myself into her before I was ready to come and when I felt my orgasm coming I let go of her ankles, pulled my dick out and squeezed it with my hand, firing jets of cum at her face. The first left a long streak of cum across her cheek, mouth and chin, the second across her nose, the rest splattering all over her chest and stomach. I lay back next to her to catch my breath, then said to her, "I think you have learned how to be subsevient to a man this evening.
As a reward, I will allow you to bring yourself to orgasm." "Oh, thank you, thank you," She gasped, "You are most generous." Still coated in my cum, she let her hand slip between her legs and began circling gently, silent except for her heavy breathing, till she let out a faint "Oh". I didn't remember falling asleep but there I was in the morning, lying on Ms.
Hatori's futon, with her resting her head on my chest and her arms wrapped around me.
I was worried the morning might be a little awkward but as she prepared tea, she fell back into her serious, businesslike manner, discussing the potential of various athletes and cautioning me to be polite and professional when interpreting for visitors so the Japanese Olympic program would look good, speaking as though last night had never happened.
She did, however, seem to be speaking with a softer tone in her voice and have a more relaxed, dreamy look on her face. On our trip back to the center we stopped at a small cafe for breakfast, miso soup and rice for her, eggs and toast for me, and we chatted some more. She seemed to have lightened up somewhat when telling me about the girls she was coaching, talking about their positive attributes instead of constantly critisizing them. Maybe her night with me did her some good.
Upon arriving at the training center we passed by the gymnasium where the girl gymnasts were talking and warming up. They snapped to attention when they saw Ms. Hattori. She bowed slightly to the girls and said, "You have all been working very hard.
I am very proud of all of you," Then she walked off to her office. The girls,open mouthed and astonished at this praise, looked at each other then looked at me for an explanation. I just smiled and winked at the girls.
They looked at me, at Ms. Hattori walking away, then back to me, slowly understanding and then breaking up into giggles. If Japan does well in the next Olympics, they have me to thank for it. The End