Chapter 6: Tokyo Reflected

I stepped into the neon-lit lobby of the love hotel in Tokyo’s Dogenzaka district, Coco’s hand in mine, her silver-threaded mane catching the glow of pink and purple signs. Another business trip—software meetings all day—but with her, it was a playground. The check-in was a sleek, automated kiosk—no staff, just a touchscreen flashing room options in Japanese and English.

“Pick one,” I said, grinning as she scrolled, her tanned fingers tapping a “Mirror Room” with a king bed, mirrored walls, and a toy menu longer than my arm. She smirked, swiping my card, and a keycard spat out, directing us to Room 404.

The elevator hummed, and she pressed against me, her tight skirt riding up, teasing her olive thighs. “This’ll top Santorini,” she purred, her breath hot on my neck. “All mirrors, all us—gonna fuck you silly.”

My cock twitched, already hard—she’d been riling me up since the flight.

The door clicked open, and we stepped into a mirrored wonderland—walls, ceiling, even the headboard reflecting us from every angle. The bed was massive, draped in red satin, flanked by a glass case of toys: a sleek black vibrator with pulsing settings, a purple dildo ribbed and thick, a set of vibrating nipple clamps with silver chains, and a remote-controlled egg buzzing in its cradle. A bottle of lube sat beside a feather tickler and a padded blindfold—options for days.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, stripping off my jacket. “Where do we start?”

Coco kicked off her heels, peeling her top down to reveal her beautiful breasts, nipples crinkling in the cool air. “Toys first,” she said, grabbing the vibrator, its glossy surface humming as she flicked it on. She tossed it to me, shedding her skirt—no panties, just that soft, curly triangle framing her beckoning pink pussy—and sprawled on the bed, legs spread.

“Tease me, Ginger.”

I knelt between her thighs, the mirrors doubling her—tanned skin, generous ass, every curve on display. I dragged the vibrator’s tip along her slit, slow and deliberate, her lips parting, wet and luminous under the lights. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” I growled, pressing it to her clit, a low buzz making her gasp—”unh unh”—her hips bucking.

I watched it all in the mirror—the ripple in her thighs, the tension in her belly, the way her nipples peaked under the ambient light. Then I pressed the toy against her clit again, and slid it inside, burying it to the hilt, her slickness singing against the high pulse. Her lips parted wider, juices smeared down her thighs like syrup.

I stripped down, my red bush wild, cock throbbing. She grabbed the nipple clamps, clipping them on—silver chains swaying as they buzzed, her breasts quivering.

“Your turn,” she panted, handing me the blindfold. I tied it over her eyes, her trust in me a quiet thrill, and picked the feather tickler, brushing it over her clamped nipples, down her belly, teasing her inner thighs. She squirmed, blind and needy, the mirrors showing every twitch—her pussy glistening, the vibrator still humming inside her.

Then Coco sat up suddenly and pushed me back onto the bed.

“Hands behind your head,” she said, voice sharp but breathy. She straddled me, pinning me in place. “Don’t move unless I say so.”

She leaned down and kissed me—slow, dominant—and whispered, “You’re mine tonight, Ginger.”

Then she ripped off the blindfold, tossing it aside. “Sixty-nine. Now.”

She crawled over me, straddling my face, her dripping pussy hovering above my mouth. I groaned, grabbing her ass, pulling her down—her musky, sweet taste flooding my tongue as I licked her clit, stiff and pulsing. She leaned forward, mirrors reflecting her every move—tanned curves, silver mane spilling—as she sucked my cock, deep and sloppy, her lips stretching around me.

In the ceiling mirror, I saw my face—flushed, desperate, wild-eyed. I looked like someone starving. For her. For this.