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I have what I started calling, a few years ago, a Janus Complex. I do not believe this is an actual condition as listed in the DSM, and psychiatric types would likely scoff, but I believe it’s real. Janus, as you may know, was the two faced Roman god of beginnings and passages – hence he looks in two different directions. In my case, it represents two opposing sides of my psyche; the noble, cultivated, altruistic higher self – and the second, wine-drenched, profane and ragingly sexual. I think this incident illustrates the latter (the one you want to hear about) perfectly.

Her name was Miki, and she was on vacation from Japan. She was staying in a hotel on L.A.’s west side. How the virtual world is an enabling place. That of course, was where I found her, online. It was a simple thing: I posted an anonymous ad in the personals section of a website. “I just want to lick.” I then wrote a brief discussion of how enamored I was with cunnilingus (which was completely true), and how the willing woman in question did not have to reciprocate (also true, but I understand how passion works; in the heat of the moment she might be persuaded). After a few email exchanges, Miki invited me to meet her for a couple of hours at her Westside hotel.

I have a thing for Japanese women, ever since childhood when the neighbor’s twin Japanese girls were the first females to register in my consciousness. I recall vividly that, although very young, I was often obsessed with sex (even though I had little or no understanding of it) which took the form of a constant desire to stroke, caress, and breathe in the female body. This was an unending ache that has never retreated for long. I was able (not surprisingly) to indulge this taste for Japanese women when I lived in Japan for a few years.

So, as it happens, it was St. Patrick’s Day – and all the green, blossoming, sunshine of early spring were on display. I stopped at a local market where I purchased: champagne, dark chocolate, a half-pound of fresh blackberries. I found the hotel easily. At my knock, the door was answered by a lovely Japanese girl, maybe five feet tall, dark, upturned, almond eyes, thick black hair cut in a fashionable bob, dressed in a thin black sweater and dark grey jeans. Her feet were bare, and she wore crimson lipstick.

“I’m bostancı escort Johnny,” I said simply.

She smiled. “I’m Miki.” An appropriately delicate voice. She asked me in. I sat in a comfortable leather chair, opposite her, next to a burnished walnut table. I’d placed the groceries in a simple yellow gift bag. Her eyes widened in appreciation; I think she didn’t expect it. I uncorked the champagne bottle and poured. We talked of Japan, of shared experiences of Tokyo, favorite restaurants and neighborhoods, and then, without a word, I stood, poured more champagne, and then brushed my lips over the nape of Miki’s neck.

In emails, Miki had explained why she was interested in my proposal.

“I am very small,” she began, “and I don’t like to fuck.” To western ears this of course sound blunt if not a bit crude, but English being her second language Miki didn’t see the bluntness of the word. She was simply being direct. “It hurts sometimes, and guys don’t understand.” I told her that I did, in fact, understand, and that I was serious about only licking her. And I was. I wondered what that would be like, to offer a slave like, single-minded purpose of bringing a woman to ecstasy with only mouth and fingers.

Miki’s shoulders stiffened as I worked my mouth along her neck, to her jawline, and delicately, deliberately breathed in her ear. I then dashed off to the bathroom where I ran a quick shower, thoroughly soaping off, and truth be told, stroking off just a bit to bring myself to full stiffness when, wrapped in a towel, I returned to Miki, took her face in my hands, and kissed her wetly, deeply and – calculatedly – a bit roughly. I ran my tongue over her teeth, caressed her tongue between my lips and gently, deftly, quickly, sucked on it, all the while working the palms of my hands over her hardened nipples which pushed against the pink lycra of her bra. I worked the zipper of her jeans, left it agape as I slid my hands along the small of her back, then darted them into her jeans to cup the smooth roundness of that firm, Japanese girl ass with both hands. With a quick move, I lifted her and carried her to the bed. I dropped her on her back, allowing the towel to fall from my own midsection – the joy of having an exposed full stinger – and kissed ümraniye escort bayan the top of her breasts. I gently unclasped her bra, and then took each nipple gently between my teeth, all the while peeling off those jeans. When they were off, with careful, hungry deliberation, I rubbed her muff with the palm of my hand…

Miki was underneath me, now, but I wanted to be as gentle as possible. I balanced myself on my hands, my feet flexed also as in a push up position. Again I kissed her softly, working along her neck, between her breasts, to her smooth, taut belly. Her skin was pale, accentuated by the darkness of her eyes, hair, lashes and brows. I worked my tongue along a trail of downy, tiny hairs that led to the lace band of her satin panties. I lowered myself to me knees, and took that lace band between my teeth. Miki giggled, a bell-like little girl giggle, and I slipped her panties over her slender hips.

I don’t like to use clichés, but sometimes I will. Miki’s lovely pussy was something out of a Georgie O’Keefe dream, luxurious dark hair neatly trimmed – but not fanatically so. I could feel her trembling now as I lowered my face into her, a distinct, slightly sweet, slightly salty womanly scent wafted up and I took a finger and began gently playing her pussy lips. A sweet, sticky thread of pussy juice stuck to my finger and stretched gossamer like, from my finger. I pulled further until it was a fine translucent stitch. I began playing those lips with flicks of my tongue. Miki shuddered slightly, arched her back, and a tiny moan of pleasure escaped her, followed by whisperings in Japanese…

I took Miki’s ass in my hands, lifted her thighs an inch or so, then plunged my tongue between those pink quivering lips. I closed my eyes, and used a trick I’d been employing for a long time. I remembered back to when I was fourteen, and this 17 year-old girl, named Sylvia, with black Irish features – dimples and freckles and puffy pink lips – gave me my first French kiss. I can to this day remember that soft, velvety tongue, with a moist sweetness like tasting an orange on a summer day. I did the same now, French kissing Miki’s lovely soft lips, sliding my tongue as far in as I could, twirling, nibbling, biting playfully, and taking a finger, sliding it kartal escort into her, and playing it over her clit. I could hear her breath expelling in small gasps, her muscles contracting, her thighs now clasping around my ears as I reached up with both hands to cup her breasts, and to consciously run my fingertips in concentric circles around her aureoles and I licked, lapped and sucked on her soft wet clit…

Miki, naturally, seemed to lose a bit of self-control, and raked her magenta fingernails over my chest as I flattened my tongue (another trick I use) and brushed firmly, up and down, along her lips. Then I stiffened my tongue and used the tip to sweep upward to the top of her labia. I then shifted my body 90 degrees, and lay across her lengthwise so that we formed an X of flesh, and allowed myself to lick along her thighs, in broad strokes, purposefully avoiding her pussy. When I could feel her impatience growing, I teased her with gentle brush strokes across her vulva. I pulled my face away for a moment, stood abruptly then, and strode across the room to grab another bottle of champagne from the mini fridge. I returned, Miki laying on her back waiting for me and smiling, and without a word a poured some cold champagne over her belly. She squealed and squirmed in surprise and I fell on her and licked up the champagne. I stroked her pussy quickly and plunged my tongue in again without warning.

And then a beautiful thing happened: as I gently stroked her I noticed that what had been a tight, pale pink set of delicate lips when I began had now expanded and turned a beautiful rose-color. I could actually see her pussy lips pulsing, and they twitched each time I flicked my tongue over them. I lifted Miki upward now, probing her inner thighs, her clit, and even flicking my tongue against her tight, sweet asshole. I flipped her over then, so her full weight was on my face and – as I pleasantly expected – Miki lost all control and took my cock in her small hands and began stroking me off. Then she took my head between those crimson lips – all of which I could see in the mirror beside the bed – and we gave ourselves up to our near-animal impulses. I could feel her juices streaming over me, now, and the trembling started in me. My cheeks were wet with her now, hot, sweet and sticky and I continued to plunge my tongue in, using fingers, nibbling again, and then I could feel the swarm of release coming…and I suddenly felt the familiar spasm as Miki did the same, gushing, shuddering, trembling, and a quavering moan escaped me to join with Miki’s…

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