Satchiko

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, True Story, Interracial, White Male, Oriental Female, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Continuation of "Candy". Really a stand-alone, but will be best understood after reading "Candy" Japan as a Third World Country Very Little Sex



Satchiko was the wildest, craziest, person I had ever met. It took thirty years to find someone even close to her equal, but after my divorce, I became friends with Claire, of St Petersburg Beach, FL.

Other than one, typically Asian, and another blonde, blue eyes, they were soul sisters. Both were Large Ladies, not fat, just built big. Tits, ass, all of it. Both were my height, and both outweighed me. Both could probably kick my ass, no, either COULD kick my ass!

Satchiko was quicker to show her tits, (neither ever wore a bra, despite 38DD's), but Claire was more positive. She would show hers, anywhere, anytime. It didn't have to be an embarrassed Sailor, first time away from home. Different ages, different places, and different time controlled both of them. I really believe that Claire started the strong movement for beads at Mardi Gras, but that may have superceded her visit by a few years. Claire loved to tease, just as much as Satchiko.

They were some of the first enlightened women of the movement, they just didn't hate men. Helen Reddy was singing their song; she just didn't know the real words. Both were WOMAN completely independent, but enjoyed company, as long as it was on their terms. Both scared me to death, and there are not too many challenges that I back away from, neither man nor beast. I'll take on any bunny rabbit, or Wile E. Coyote anytime, anyplace. Meanwhile, don't try to steal from me, or lie to me, or hurt my children.

One little cocksucker cut my 8th grade daughter off during a trip home from school. She evaded him, (Thank God), but got his tag number.

We lived in a county enclave, she was accosted in the City of St. Petersburg. We called in a report, met with the cop, and I knew nothing was going to come of it. I had a friend on the St. Pete Police Dept., that got me the asshole's address. Based on his tag number.

St Pete Police warned him, but I met him with a .44 magnum under his nose, (leaning over the top of his Camaro), and promised him that the world was not a big enough place for both of us if he ever bothered my daughter again. I probably should have just shot the son-of-a-bitch, the world would have been better off. I have to admit, however, I have never seen his name on any sex-offenders list. Believer? Maybe so.

I had met Claire on a fishing trip. My across-the-alley neighbor, Mike had finally come around, and became friendly. He was absolutely the hardest get-to-know person I have ever met. And the best friend I ever made. Peoples Gas Company, in St. Petersburg, FL, employed him. Mary, Mike's wife was much easier to meet. She talked over the back fence, and had welcomed me and my Japanese wife (THREE KIDS) to the neighborhood.

Finally, Mike and I realized we had a common enemy, Snook, Redfish, and Trout. We realized that we must catch the occasional Flounder, and might be drafted into cast netting for Mullet. He was the penultimate fisherman, and had grown up in St. Pete. I had lived across the Bay, in Tampa for seven years, and had become a pretty good fisherman in my own right. Even though he was ten years younger, we became the ultimate Fishing Buddies, and confidants. Neither would dare to war on all the Deep Denizens without the other's company.

Being a serviceman for the Gas Company, as well as a total knowledge of all the waters around St. Pete, he took me on a mid-week night to Blind Pass. There was a really old beer joint; it had the fold-up windows, closed upon closing that was right at the mouth of the Pass.

One of our big jokes was his statement "I used to ride my bicycle here and fish" Lots of jokes when fishing was poor, lots of time these "bicycle holes" paid off.

Mike, fisherman that he was, noted that they had an overhead light that shined into the water. That means baitfish, which means war on the trout. (Spotted Weakfish, for those who are unlucky enough not to have fished for them). When we arrived, it was a slack tide, just before change. Now anyone knows, that is not the time to wipe out trout divisions, so we settled inside at the bar (10 stools) and had an absolute angel serve us a beer, Actually she looked as beautiful as an Angel, but there was this dance in her eyes!! DEVIL WOMAN!!!!!

We drank a couple of beers, played Willie on the jukebox, ate a hamburger, and talked to Claire. I even beat him at pool, not all that hard, but I liked it. He beat me all to hell at fishing. All the other patrons of the bar were on the seawall, beating the water to froth. Baitfish were everywhere, and in the shadows of the lights were some really fine fish.

Mike and I had stopped at O'Neals' Marina, and brought bait shrimp with us. Seems the Denizens of the Deep did not want a Smorgasbord, they wanted our shrimp. We each caught 10 four pounders, and decided to engage in the wonderful world of admiring Tits, Ass, and an Angelic Face. We were still the only inside customers at 10:30, and Claire decided to close. "Follow me," she said, and that's how we wound up at the "Beach Lounge". Follow me led to numerous "Jack Daniels" that night, and enough in to future to halve my children's inheritance.

Sipping Jack Daniels and ginger ale that night, I thought of Satchiko.


In my first year in Japan, I had known this remarkable lady for some months, and despite teasing, terrorizing, and outright lying to each other, we had never hooked up.

I had gone regularly to patronize her establishment, but never had any extra money. Money was the language, in this particular place and time. I guess it still is, but total oblivion if you don't have a quarter, (about Y100) is not the standard today. I have seen mothers feed 4 children on that amount. Matter of fact, I still enjoy doctored up Ramen Noodles. Yes, they came from this place and time.

Finally, prosperity. Time, and past pay records (with only minor withdrawals) finally caught up with me. Back pay came through, and I was flush. I bought a car, a 1951 Ford Tudor. $200.00. Try that one for your first car.

Proud Pappy!! Now I can offer my friends and various and sundry acquaintances a 1 mile ride from the barracks to the Supply Department, and back.

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