A Pearl in the Snow (Revised)
Copyright© 2007 by Stultus
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An unlucky American baseball player in Japan meets a lovely but sad Japanese schoolteacher who seems to be hiding several secrets. Their love may prove to be the start of a life of great fortune and happiness together, but it certainly takes them down several unusual paths first. A newly revised update of one of my oldest stories.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic BiSexual Paranormal Group Sex Harem Interracial Oriental Female Oral Sex Anal Sex Pregnancy Cream Pie Voyeurism Slow
It had been snowing outside for most of the day, but this fact now completely grabbed my attention once I took my third step out from my hotel onto the sideway and began at once to slip and slide on the ice. My bad knee buckled a bit, and before I knew it I was face down on the icy pavement and had nearly brained my skull when I slid into a street sign pole. My knee hurt, but then again my knee always hurt, but this time it seemed that nothing had been hurt except my pride.
I started to pick myself up when I was offered a young ladies hand of assistance. I immediately accepted, and thanked her in English out of habit, but caught myself quickly and offered a sincere "Arigatou gozai-masu". She laughed and replied herself with a perfect "Your quite welcome — you looked as if you had needed the assistance."
Standing up again now, I had a much better view of my benefactor. She was tall for a Japanese female, maybe about 5'8", and of about my age in her mid-late twenties. Her hair was dark and gorgeously long, nearly reaching her butt, and something about her eyes and cheekbones suggested that there had been at least a drop of two of western blood in her recent family tree.
I complimented her superb skill with the English language, and she told me that she was an English teacher at one of the middle schools here in Niigata. That was very interesting, and we began to walk together and talk a bit about our lives. Her name was Shinju (Pearl), and I gave her mine, Scott Walker. Soon though, she asked me where I was heading to and if she could help at least to lead me in the right direction. I said that I wasn't quite sure where I was going yet, but I had just a general idea or two in my head. I wanted to get to the harbor, near where the new ballpark had been built, to take the ferry to Sato for the weekend.
"Sado-ga-shima?" She excitedly enquired. That was where her family lived and she was heading for the ferry to go there herself. They lived in a small fishing village on the wild and rocky western side of the island, but she could certainly help me find the right bus at the big port village of Ryotsu. I offered her my elbow, which she accepted with a smile and a slight toss of her hair, and walked together to the ferry dock. The fast hydrofoils were shut down for the winter, but the regular car ferry was running today despite the bad weather.
We found seats out of the wind upstairs, and I showed her the small pamphlet that I had found pushed under my hotel room door that morning. It was nominally in English, but probably "Japlish" was a better definition. It purported to be from a small rural hotel with a nearby hot springs lake next to an old rundown scenic temple. Sounded like just the place to be on a freezing cold, snowy day in northern Japan, especially since the water in my hotel bath never seemed to run much beyond lukewarm, let alone hot ... and right now my knee needed HOT.
It was a long two and a half hour ferry ride, and the sea seemed to get choppier and the wind and snow blowing harder with each minute. My knee throbbed constantly, and even Shinju appeared to be demurely pressing even closer against me to conserve a bit of extra body heat. The passage trip gave us all of the time I needed to explain to her how and why I was here in one of the least touristy places in all of Japan.
I had grown up a happy kid in the Midwest and had done alright in school never getting into much if any trouble and had a few quality friends, including a couple of girlfriends who thought they saw something worthwhile in me. My only true love though was Baseball. If I wasn't outside playing it or practicing some aspect of the game, I was watching VHS tapes of old games on my small bedroom B&W TV. I spent every dime of my allowance and yard mowing money at the local batting cage, and by high school there wasn't any pitcher that I could not hit. By graduation I knew there was only one thing that I wanted to do with my life — become a professional baseball player.
In the Major League Draft that summer I was selected early in the third round and received a decent amount of bonus signing money. I cruised easily through the low Minor Leagues and by my third season I was crushing AAA pitching and seemed a lock for a call up to the Majors. Baseball American had just ranked me as their ninth best Top Prospect in all of the Minor Leagues; I could hit for good average and a bit of power, I had a good eye and could work a count to either get the pitch I wanted or take the walk; on the base paths I showed good speed and smart base running instincts. My only perceived weakness being I was only an average fielder at third base, but would likely improve with experience.
That all ended in a early September game that was virtually meaningless to our Minor League division standings, but it was just a day or two before the expected ML Roster increase date when teams could start calling up their minor leaguers for the final pennant stretch. I had not been scheduled to play that day, as my 'call up' was a virtual guarantee already, but our visiting Assistant General Manager for Minor League Operations had wanted to at least see me and a couple of other folks 'in action' first anyway. So I came into the game as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the seventh, and on the second pitch doubled to the wall in right-center, allowing two runs to score. We were way up, 8-2 by the top of the eighth, when I assumed my defensive position at third base.
This was when the trouble began. I had nothing left to prove that day, but a borderline bench player for the opposing team thought he did. I'll call him Jeff, but that's not quite his real name ... he feels bad enough as it is without me rubbing it in. Jeff had not been playing well, and felt he was in severe danger of not only not getting his 'cup of coffee in the Majors', but maybe even facing a demotion back to AA ball. He was as fast as the wind, and played a good center field, but he really couldn't hit his own weight. He did make an excellent pinch runner though.
When our pitcher walked the lead-off batter at the top of the eighth, Jeff came in to pinch run. On the next pitch, which was hit to left field for a routine single, anyone else other than Jeff would have held up at second base, but not him. Without even a glance at our fielder who was throwing the ball back to me or his own third base coach who was frantically waving at him to stop, he barreled around the bag and charged straight for third hell bent for leather. If the ball had been hit to right instead of left field his superb speed might have been enough, but the ball beat his foot to me by at least six steps.
His only prayer now was to somehow kick or knock the ball out of my glove or avoid the tag altogether — his mistake was instead of trying just one of those options he tried both, and missed. His spiked feet and later most of his body weight slammed against my left knee (he'd missed my glove entirely). Not a single person in the crowd, no matter where their seats were, could miss hearing the sound of my knee breaking and its ligaments and tendons ripping. They could probably hear my scream even on the nearby interstate highway.
In a moment, my career was done. I had gone from 'can't miss prospect' to badly damaged goods. My organization prayed for a miracle, but even three operations later it wasn't likely to be forthcoming. I could still hit and maybe now handle first base duties, but my running simply wasn't up to snuff. I looked like a tired broken-down forty year old catcher trying to shuffle and stumble my way down the base path. After a couple of years back in the low Minors I was released. Other teams would briefly pick me up and hope for a miracle of their own, but would soon realize it just wasn't going to happen.
By my twenty-fifth birthday I was considered 'done', and I was an assistant coach and playing irregularly for a small independent team in a semi-pro league that was sort of AA comparable. I mostly helped with batting instruction for some of the kids, and there were even a few veterans much older than me that also could not abandon their dreams yet and go back to the real world and put on a shirt and tie everyday and start selling insurance. I could pinch hit regularly and occasionally even played third sometimes just for the fun of it.
After one of these all too rare occasions when I had felt relatively pain-free and had played a good game, I was approached by a scout that I didn't recognize. It turns out that he represented a JPB team (Japanese Professional Baseball) and he had been scouting a different player whom he thought might provide some good 'veteran leadership', but my skills intrigued him. He would be watching our team all this week and he knew I didn't normally play everyday, but asked if I could arrange to do so.
I thought I could, and with the ok from our skipper I started the next two games and played my heart out, playing through the increasing pain and trying hard to never let it show. And wonder of wonders, it worked. I was given plane tickets and a bit of expense money to visit their senior American scout who was in Los Angeles, and I performed a day long workout for him. He didn't fall quite in love with me and he well understood that he was looking at damaged goods, but agreed that he thought I had 'something' as well, and made arrangements for me to go to Japan next February before Spring Training to get a physical exam and give another workout for the team management.
No promises, but it was at least an opportunity to play again.
My prospective team was to be the Niigata Golden Tanuki - a strange name if I had ever heard one! They were a very new team that had recently formed a few years ago when two smaller impoverished clubs folded and merged into a single team, leaving an opening for a brand new sixteenth JPB club. Our owner was fabulously rich (and infamously eccentric) and obsessed by baseball and desired the best possible winning team. This was a very different attitude than most other clubs, which were haphazardly run as publicity units for their major corporate owners, and winning championships was an incidental goal at best. I was certainly willing to give this my best possible effort, and all of my travel arrangements were swiftly made for me.
The next February 4th, I was on a plane to a very uncertain future in Japan, with the smaller of my two bags packed with every book on Japan and Japanese Baseball I could lay my hands on. I knew I would be entering a strange and (to me) bizarre new culture, but that still didn't prepare me for the first site of my prospective ballclub's mascot — a Tanuki (a strange but real creature that appears to be half-raccoon and half-dog or badger), standing up wearing a traditional straw hat with a baseball bat over one shoulder and a large bottle of Saki in his hand.
There are a great many fables in Japanese folklore about Tanuki; they are credited with having magical powers, and are widely regarded as a symbol of good luck. They are also regarded as a symbol of fertility, and depicted, as our mascot symbol was, with enormous testicles. HUGE ones, which nearly brushed the ground. That looked very painful to me, especially as a symbol for 'prosperity'. I don't know if all of the 'Lucky Cat' statues that I saw everywhere else were disappointed by their own shortcomings or were immensely relieved in comparison.
My workout at their new stadium went quite well, I thought. The retractable roof was closed that day and it was only bitterly cold rather than utterly butt freezing inside. Their doctors MRI'd my knee and 'tut-tut'd' a bit over the results of that, but were obviously pleased with my batting skills. I knew I was a little rusty, but I think I demonstrated good contact to all fields. The running and fielding parts didn't go quite as smoothly, but I tried to exhibit my determination at every opportunity — body health and pain be damned! When something didn't quite go as well as I would have hoped, I would request to do it again and again, if necessary.
I resolved to myself that I would not stop for any rest or relief, no matter how much pain I felt, until every member of their coaching staff was satisfied and they instructed me to stop.
It became a grueling torture endurance event, the pain in my knee became nearly intolerable, but I grit my teeth and refused to quit. After about four straight hours of diving for ground balls that were always being hit 'just a bit' out of my range, I was biting my tongue so hard from the pain that it was bleeding. Somehow, I unsteadily got back onto my feet and beckoned for another ball to be hit to me when the Manager announced 'enough' and turned his back on me to consult with his coaching staff and the team's management.
I shuffled off to the shower room (it did have a real western style shower, plus the traditional large wooden bath tubs), but not before I heard what I was sure was the Manager saying to someone, "Wa". "Fighting Spirit". It was almost the only Japanese word I knew, but it was a very important word, especially for a potential "gaijin suketto" (foreign helper) whose loyalty to the team would be at best suspect.
I soaked in the hot water tub for as long as I dared to; just enough to get my knee loosened up enough again to at least be able to walk on it again, and I dressed. Someone eventually guided me back upstairs to the executive offices where I was directed to wait for a good long time. I got the impression that my fate was still to be decided. Indeed so, when at length I was admitted into a meeting room, it was clear that some of the men in the room did not especially look with favor at me (in fact I would learn later that nearly everyone except the Manager of the team thought they could do better with another gaijin).
Prepared for the inevitable letdown, I was quite surprised when my fate received a later postponement. I was to join the club for Spring Training on March 1 on Okinawa, under a provisional Minor League contract. The club would pay my hotel bill and offer me a small per-diem until that time. After receiving this news I was fairly curtly dismissed. At least I was to be given another chance, and my fate of selling insurance postponed awhile further.
I returned to my hotel room elated and despite its lack of proper hot water I was all set to wait out my three weeks until Spring Training locally seeing the sights, until I had found the hot springs hotel flyer under my door the next morning. All I could assume was that someone at the ball club knew I would be definitely be in need of a hot therapeutic soak, and if these springs did have a reputation for healing, so much the better. I packed a small bag and stumbled out into the ice and snow and thus met the lovely Shinju.
I learned much less about her. She came from a small village on the rougher western side of the island, and had to work hard 'not always doing what she would have preferred to have been doing', she said, in order to support the village, which mostly fished but also grazed a small herd of cows on nearby Osado mountain range. Most unmarried women of her clan, like her, worked in various jobs in the nearby bigger cities. I got the unstated impression, that she was of low status in her village, and she did not often return to visit her home and her visits home weren't especially joyous ones.
She was happy with her teaching job in Niigata and enjoyed it very much, and would like to continue to do it for the near future, but her 'Great Uncle' would prefer that she did 'other work instead'. She was naturally gifted at languages and spoke several other ones including Korean, Mandarin and French, all at least passably, and she knew smatterings of several more. She liked being 'independent'. She had no boyfriend at the moment, and admitted that dating men from 'off of the island' was against custom and... 'difficult'. She changed the topic right then and there and started to tell me more about the island.
Sato was Japan's fifth largest island off of the western coast of Honsu with a permanent population of about 60,000 people. It was pretty much associated in most people's minds with its former role as a place of permanent exile where prisoners were worked to death in the tunnels of its freezing cold gold mines. Even as late as World War II, hundreds, if not thousands of Allied POWs worked and died in its hostile and unforgiving mines. Its remote, storm-battered rocky coasts covered much of the island, and most of the population was squeezed into 10% of its land in a flat region across the middle of the island between the northern and southern mountain ranges. In summer the green hills and quaint fishing ports did receive some tourism, but things were considered 'very backwards' there, with many customs and most houses and temple shrines very little changed from the way 'things have always been' over several hundred years. There was a small airport that usually offered daily flights to Niigata, but in winter service was a much less regular. That would be good to know for the future.
It was to the island's provincial capital, Ryotsu, we were heading, but it was little more than a fishing and tourist village itself, but here is where the ferry (and in the summertime the speedier hydrofoil boats) docked, and with my hand holding hers, she found the correct bus for us to take. Her village lay a bit farther north than my intended destination, but they were relatively near each other, both being on the far west side of the island, and north of the town of Aikawa, home to the nearby infamous slave labor gold mines of the 17th to 20th century (they finally closed after WW-II). My stop would be first, she would then have another twenty to thirty minutes to go, depending upon weather conditions, which seemed to get worse by the minute.
My companion also seemed to get more fidgety the closer we seemed to get. I was sure the poor weather and icy road conditions bothered her, and she kept grasping my hand tighter and tighter, but I also got the impression she was not at all anxious to part from my company. By the time we reached the west coastal road at Sawata, she was resting her head on my shoulder and clutching my arm tightly as if she did not want to, or could not let me go. We didn't speak much to each other much on this part of the bus trip, but we would periodically look at each other and smile.
Once we neared Aikawa near dusk, conditions if at possible became even worse. The road was quickly becoming covered with ice and snow and the wind seemed to drive both nearly horizontally over the road, reducing the bus driver's view to mere feet. Most of the other passengers got off in Aikawa, to stay here for the duration of the storm. Shinju asked the driver if he thought he could reach my hotel, and giving the name of the small village nearby (not hers, but also close to it), the driver nodded his head saying "Hai" emphatically. Apparently an excellent Saki factory was very nearby (the island has at least seven famous ones, including the famous 'Alcohol Republic' town of Mano, further south) and he would love to put up his feet there for the storm. He would persevere!
Off we went again, and at times I was sure that we were no longer actually driving on the road in the snowy darkness, and certainly no one else was out on the road that evening. He continued to drive slowly and with a visibility of only a few feet, and somehow he kept us out of the ditches (and out of the Sea of Japan) until we finally made it to our destination at last!
Our most fortunate and skilled driver bid us farewell and drove back down the road to his awaiting (and well earned) liquid rewards, and Shinju went to get us rooms, and she returned a few minutes later saying that she got us one. I had asked her to check on rooms (plural) but either they were all taken (unlikely, as we seemed to be the only ones there) or else my kind young lady had other plans for the evening, because she returned bearing only that single room key.
The room was small and had traditional floor mat beds and a central charcoal heater (dangerous things in a snow storm that can quickly cover over window air vents). We cracked a window open the least amount we dared to, keeping fresh air in (and hopefully CO poisoning out) but we were going to be cold, even with the heater. Shinju went to ask for additional blankets and checked on the availability of dinner, both of which were soon bestowed upon us with abundance.
The dinner of fresh seafood was fabulous, the best I'd ever eaten, and we had several choices of cooked and raw sashimi fish and I was introduced to sushi for the first time and was soon eating it like a native. We also had a few warming drops of one of the local Saki's. It was good, but an acquired taste, and I determined to start acquiring it right away. Shinju would never let me pour my own cup and always insisted upon serving me at every available opportunity. I was becoming fonder of this very beautiful and seemingly very traditional woman with every moment, and it helped that few cups of the warming local brew was soon numbing the pained tightness in my knee down to a more tolerable throbbing dull roar.
Our delightful meal done, we returned to our room and its warm blankets and snuggled up together close; fully dressed since it was too cold to even consider undressing even a bit. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife, and each of us seemed to be stuck for conversation topics. We kissed gently a few times while cuddling, and she allowed my hand to grasp and even cup one of her breasts, but somehow neither of us seemed willing to progress from there.
I got the unsaid impression that she was amenable to doing nearly anything with me short of us actually having sex together. Something inside her seemed to be holding her back, reining in her very obvious desires. She was quite apparently very attracted to me, as I was to her, but something was preventing her from hitting the 'go' button.
Stuck at a romantic impasse, and with my leg now starting to severely throb and stiffen due to the cold, I muttered that it was "too bad it was too late to go find those hot springs". She seized upon that thought at once, and declared her own interest in finding them, even in the middle of a snowstorm and the dead of night. So wrapping a single blanket around us the best we could, we got simple directions from the innkeeper (simplicity itself - just follow the stone steps around the back of the Inn and up the mountainside) and off we went.
After the first twenty steps or so, I was sure we had made a bad tactical decision. The wind was blowing a gale and the snow was getting deep enough that finding the next stone step to take was no longer a certainty. By the fiftieth step my bad leg was in active revolt and pretty much refused to participate any further and it locked up on me nearly entirely. At the one hundredth step, Shinju's teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Had I even suspected that there were about four hundred more steps to go, we both would have immediately quit and slid our way back to the comparative warmth of our room. How we made to the top at all I have no clue, but I suspect we were both starting to suffer from hypothermia and were no longer quite rational even by the mid-way point.
Getting to the top, we found a nice old Torii gate and snow shrouded hedges that seemed to suggest two paths, one to an old run-down and rustic temple to the left and another that led straight ahead to an either large pond or small lake whose hot waters steamed in obvious invitation to us. We lurched to the waters and within moments I had stepped out of my shoes, socks and pants, setting them onto a nearby stone bench, and started to step into the hot water. It seemed boiling to me at first, compared with the frigidity of the arctic blizzard air around us, but it got nicer the more I moved into it, and by the time the waters reached my knees I was in heaven. Soon my jacket, sweater and shirt followed my other clothes on the bench and I was naked and up to my frosty nose in the hot soothing waters.
Shinju continued to violently shiver outside in the cold, but when I turned to face her and beckoned her to join me, her indecision was gone and she flung off her own clothes as fast as her frozen hands would allow and soon she was once again in my arms, her shivers soon gone entirely. We just stood as deep in the water as we could while holding each others nude bodies tightly.
I had taken a little bit of a look at her figure as she splashed in to join me, and I was much appreciative. She had the usual Asian smallish but very firm breasts, possibly a small B cup in size, with extremely dark and prominent nipples. Her hips were good and she had a mostly flat stomach with just a soft hint of feminine roundness. Her ass looked pert with well defined soft cheeks, and her pubic region was mostly smooth with just a hint of sparse hair on her mound. In the shrouded blizzard moonlight, she appeared to be the most beautiful and radiant creature I had ever seen. I would never be ashamed to admit to being her lover for all time, should she accept me.
We held each other without moving or speaking for some great length time, and perhaps around midnight or some early hour of the morning the wind seemed to lessen, as a small break in the storm seemed to occur. Now we could see fairly clearly all around us to the edges of the pond and the trees and small building nearby, including the temple further to our left. There seemed to be a 'glow' to everything with the snow reflecting all of the sparse moon and starlight around us, and we noticed to our dismay that we were not at all alone in the area. A priest, obviously from the nearby temple, was seated lost in mediation on a large stone at the far edge of the pond from where we were at. The rising steam from the hot water seemed to make him foggy and hard to distinguish.
We quickly considered making our apologies for our after hours intrusion upon their property, let alone giving the appearance of nude cavorting on what must be holy waters for them, but the meditating priest appeared to bear us no attention whatsoever. We decided instead to leave the pond and hastily dress, and leave the priest to his mediations and return to our room quickly while the storm was abated. We broke from our hug and I gave her a last kiss on her lips and took her hand to make our first steps out of the water when something began to happen.
Another figure, whom was equally foggy due to the rising steam, appeared next to the priest and began laughing at him and berating him. The priest's eyes opened briefly and he smiled and then shut them again resuming his devotions. This new figure, seemed to be much taller and was perhaps wearing some sort of hairy fur coat and leggings, and looked to be a sort of local 'wild man', perhaps living nearby on the mountain and apparently had a grudge against the priests of this temple. His laughter continued and he bent down regularly and seemed to throw whatever objects he could find at close hand at the kneeling praying priest, who continued to bear his attacker no mind at all. Sticks, snow covered leaves and rocks soon began to pelt the unresisting priest.
I was enraged at this treatment of any holy man, especially one of such a pure pacifistic nature, and I could see Shinju's eyes darken with rage and disbelief as well at this maltreatment. We were now about waist deep in the water, and we could now reach some stones that we could feel under our feet. Without thinking or discussion we each reached for a rock and threw them at the wild man, but none seemed to hit or even bother him much, and he ignored us and continued to harass the priest, but never quite actually touching him physically with his hands.
Shinju started to mutter a Buddhist or Shinto prayer while I reached down into the waters to find a good rock to nail that bastard with. Unseen, my hands seemed to find just that 'right' rock, and as I pried it out of the mud underneath with both hands I felt something bright and heavy fall into my hands. It had been apparently stuck on the underside of the rock and the water had released the mud adhering it.
My chosen rock was hurled and seemed to hit the man right on his hairy matted head, but after a brief glare at me, paid me no further attention. In anger and desperation, I now threw that dirty glittering object I had just found at him as well. That also struck him hard and right on target as well, but it bounced off of him and landed right into the lap of the meditating priest.
The priest's eyes opened, and when he looked upon the object in his lap he just smiled. The wild man's eyes now seemed filled with shock and horror and he began crying "Iie! Iie! (No! No!) and soon fled the poolside and disappeared wailing into the mountainside.
This was very odd indeed.
The priest continued to smile at the object I had indirectly thrown to him and for the first time, his eyes met ours. Smiling he stood up and walked around to the right side of the waters edge towards us. Shinju left the waters at once and naked in the cold winters air she ran to meet him and threw herself at the Priests feet, continuing to chant her prayer as she did. The priest seemed to not to notice or pay any heed to her naked condition and he blessed her, bidding her to arise. He then softly seem to speak with her for several minutes, during which time I decided that at least one of us ought to be dressed a bit more properly for him, and I started to try pull my pants on, but hadn't quite gotten finished yet when the Priest came to my side.
He gave me also a brief blessing on my head, and then appearing to notice the severe trouble I had getting my left knee to bend enough to get my pants leg on, he knelt before me and placed both his hands onto my ailing knee and ever so softly recited a fairly long prayer. With a parting smile, he took Shinju's hand and placed it into mine and offered us a final last blessing together before he serenely turned and left us, heading towards the temple.
Our temporary respite from the storm now seemed over, and the swirling snow laden winds began to pick up once more and we lost sight of the Priest at the doorway to the temple.
We took this as our immediate cue to hurry up and both get dressed as fast as possible, but before we had our jackets on all hell seemed to break loose. The temple bell began to bong repeatedly and lights soon came on inside the temple, and we decided that now was a very good time indeed to leave, but we hadn't made it quite to that first top step before a shouting voice told us to stop.
Ok, now we were going to be in for it, scolded for our late night trespassing and skinny-dipping at the very least, but the elderly man that ran to our side had other immediate ideas. He insisted that we follow him into the small temple and ushered us into a small room that was at least somewhat warm, and offered us each Saki. When we had drunk, he showed us an object; it was the yellow glittery object that I had found under the rock in the water, and we (Shinju doing all of the talking) told him of the other priest we had met and his disagreeable enemy that we had driven off.
This excited the old priest very much and he offered us more Saki before he ran off to gather his two junior priests and together they conferred at some great length. After chatting again with Shinju to confirm a point or two, they again held another lengthy conference. At length, the old priest returned and offered us a small bedroom at the temple for the night and a brazier was lit for us in the room to provide some heat.
Despite the renewed force of the blizzard outside, we both felt quite warmed up inside from the heat of the waters, and we both stripped naked for bed. Shinju now showing no signs of reluctance whatsoever, took me immediately into her arms and began to now kiss me as lover would, and not as just a 'dear friend'. Soon before either of us was quite aware of what we were doing I was on top of her kissing her breasts and my rock hard cock was poised at the entrance to her love canal.
"Do you want me to stop?" I asked her, but her only reply was to kiss me harder and to wrap her legs around my waist, pushing me inside her.
Her cunt was small and delicate, with small vaginal lips and a prominent protruding round clit head that reminded me in the fire lit gloom of a small glistening pearl. My Shinju was indeed well named! She was extremely tight but apparently no virgin, and her experienced cunt muscles seemed to know just how to grasp and wrap around my cock so tightly that even well lubricated as she seemed to be, it was difficult to thrust in and out of her at first.
We began to fuck in earnest but softly and quietly, neither of us wanted to disturb any of the priests, and I wasn't at all certain that it was at all good etiquette to be fucking inside a holy temple. Her cries of increasing joy and pleasure were soft, but very welcome to my ears, and our slow and very gentle lovemaking began to gradually increase, but never quite to the level of a lusty romp. She soon appeared as if she was close to reaching an orgasm just from the gentle friction of our gentle coupling alone and as it began her eyes looked into mine and begged me to cum with her, she wanted to feel my ejaculation inside her as she felt her own orgasm. This I accomplished with a few accelerated strokes that planted my sperm as deeply inside her as I could shoot it.
Resting in each others arms, we continued to kiss and I asked her what the priest we had met in the waters had said to her. She smiled but declined to answer, saying that it was "very personal", but she did hint that he had inferred to her that she would 'never know a single days unhappiness if she accepted her fate always willingly', which apparently also included accepting me as her lover. I wisely decided to let my woman keep her secrets, and I would keep her instead.
We dozed for a bit, but never quite managed to get any actual sleep, and just as daylight started to fill the room, my lover decided that before dressing for the day she would enjoy her first taste of me. Specifically, she inhaled my cock into her mouth and soon began to softly suck it with a talent that amazed me. She was certainly no stranger to cock sucking, and her tongue did a hundred little things that drove me nearly wild with pleasure that could not possibly have been learned from just a few simple love experiences. Soon I could withhold it no longer and I exploded my cum into her questing talented mouth, and looking me directly in the eyes she swallowed every drop and then licked me spotlessly clean. That led to me grabbing her cute little ass and pulling her twat over my mouth and began to give her little pearl a good proper tongue bath of its own.
Her clit was apparently extremely sensitive as well as being good sized, and nearly immediately after I took her clit in my mouth she began a series of tiny small orgasms that began to build up to the extent that only my re-hardened cock in her mouth was preventing her from screaming quite loudly.
I'm sure she was making a good deal of noise that could be clearly heard into the main temple room, because at length there was a loud throat clearing and a knock on the thin paper covered door of our room. The young priest gave us a full minute to get covered up before the door opened and he invited us to breakfast, and we needed nearly every second of it, otherwise he would have had an excellent view of my lover fully deep throating my entire cock and gulping down another load of my cum.
Breakfast was cold fish and rice, but they were used to it and I was much too polite (and hungry) to balk. Afterwards, the elder priest (he was technically really the Head Priest for this temple but the practical difference was rather slight), sat down with us and told us a long and unusual story; the barest details of which were as follows.
Sometime in the mid-seventeenth century, just after the Sado gold mines near Aikawa had been discovered, a young Shinto priest named Hiraku felt the calling to travel the "Path of a Thousand Shrines" to determine which one was to become his home for life. He traveled across Japan for many years without finding his 'home', and one winter's day discovered these very hot springs and knew in his heart that here was where he was meant to built his small temple and reside for this remainder of his life. But to hire the wood workers and stone carvers necessary would take money that he did not have.
He traveled the villages of the island but found no wealthy benefactors, and at length came before the Imperial Supervisor of the Mine and asked if he could labor within the mine and keeping only a small percentage of what he gathered as his payment. The Supervisor was a very pious man and did not much like the idea of a holy man laboring next to chained prisoners of the Emperor, but assented to the request and allowed the Priest to join the miners. In a year he had gathered just enough gold to pay his workman to construct the Temple, with a tiny amount left over to provide for his minimal needs.
The last nail had yet to be driven in the new temple when a most fierce stranger appeared and demanded to know what the Priest was doing at "his" hot springs. The stranger was in fact an Oni, a powerful demonic spirit of the area that would be impossible to drive off unless placated. His demands were quite straightforward, he demanded one hundred gold Koban bars (a square coin of about an ounce each) of the new gold or he would destroy the temple.
Hiraku bowed his head and agreed but asked for ten years in which to gather the payment. He returned to the gold mine and labored without rest for those ten years until he had the last coin stamped and marked for his payment. Upon his return, exactly ten years to the day since his departure, Hiraku offered his payment to the Oni, completing his bargain.
Seeing that Hiraku had somehow against all odds managed this impossible payment, the Oni became increasing angry with every coin he was given. He had insisted that the coins be counted out to him one at a time, and his rage became greater with each coin that was given to him. As the last gold coins were being placed into his hand the Oni, in a furious rage, tossed them all into the hot waters of the pond.
The holy priest dove into the lake and found all of the coins except for one, the coin stamped #9. As the sun set the Oni cackled with glee, he could keep the ninety-nine coins for himself and still eject the Priest and destroy his Temple as his final payment had been incomplete.
Hiraku disagreed; each of the one hundred coins had indeed touched the Oni's hand before he had 'voluntarily discarded them'. The bargain was indeed completed in full. The Oni was howling mad at this, but could see no escape from that trap of logic. The temple was safe and the waters and grounds were no longer his, and he could no longer harm or threaten the Priest on his own holy ground, but he could manage one last inconvenience. Until the very last coin was returned to him, he swore that he would haunt the Temple with mischief and they would enjoy no good fortune from that day onwards. With a laugh, the Oni disappeared.
Hiraku's health was no longer hale and hearty after his long years of hard labor in the mine, and he entreated his young followers to search for the missing coin, but it was never to be found. Resigned, Hiraku spent his remaining years meditating by the pond and shortly before his death he imparted to his followers upon his deathbed to never again search for the coin, as a water spirit had told him that someday it would reappear and "fall right into their lap without their effort".
These teachings passed through to their succeeding generations of young priests until they seemed as but myth and legend, but true to the Oni's word, the temple had never prospered or enjoyed 'good luck'.
Until this very morning, when that long missing #9 coin was found.
The Head Priest then returned that coin to me, as I had been its lucky finder. It was rectangular and covered on both sides with Shinto symbols and stamped with the #9 symbol at the top, next to a small round hole that was used to thread money on strings in those days. It wasn't too heavy, being about an ounce or so, and the Head Priest suggested to me that it would make an excellent necklace to wear and it would almost certainly bring me nothing but exceptional good luck for the future. Of the priest we had seen last night? He was certainly not one of the three priests who lived at this temple, nor was any 'wild man' or local resident angry with anyone at the temple.
The alternate explanation was obvious and unspoken. We had seen Hiraku's ghost and when I had thrown the coin it bounced off of the Oni, falling through his startled fingers, thus he had once again rejected his final payment and it had, as predicted, fallen right into the lap of the holy man. Foiled forever, the Oni was now stripped of all of his power over the Temple. He and his curse were now banished from these grounds forever.
The Head Priest was most grateful to us, and we were entreated to forever accept this temple and its grounds as if it were our own home, and we were to be always to be welcomed with open arms there. Yes, that most certainly included any future late night (or daytime) bathing we might desire. This was heady stuff, and it took the two of us quite some length of time to understand and fully accept what had happened.