Chapter 5

Although this can be read as a stand-alone story, a greater background and appreciation of Dr Martin and his sex adventures and my attempts to emulate him can be obtained by reading all the chapters.

Katsumi refilled her glass, nearly emptying the bottle in the process then put her feet up on the coffee table and took a sip, watching me over the rim of the glass. Her eyes were huge and liquid brown and knowing. She lowered the glass. “Well, are you going to show me what you say you have found?” She smoothed her skintight, short, black, Japanese stereotype businesswoman skirt, accentuating the length and shapeliness of her legs.

I pressed start. But as I used the Bluetooth keyboard to flick through the numerous compulsory ads before the selected JAV video started, she glanced at me. “Why are you over there? Come closer.”

By the time the Katsumi on the laptop screen was at the centre of a swarm of men, the Katsumi beside me was breathing rapidly and her nipples were visibly swollen against her white blouse. While laptop screen Katsumi was surrounded by a group of watching men and being fucked by one of them, the genuine article on the couch with me was twisting her hands in her lap and shifting from side to side. And then a second man joined in slamming his cock into her arse.

“This is really hot!” she breathed. She grabbed my hand and used it to pull her skirt to her hips, then jammed my knuckles against the soaked crotch of her thong. She ground her pussy against my hand, moaning softly. “Oh, yes, I remember how they filled me.”

She didn’t deny it was her. She seemed to be enjoying it, both on the screen and in my lounge room. “Wait until you see the black man,” I muttered. My cock was as stiff as a piece of iron.

Watching her younger self in a gang bang obviously made her horny, and when she saw the black man holding his massive fuck rod, she dragged her thong down. “Put your fingers in me!” she hissed, forcing my hand against her wet slit, not that I put up any resistance. I extended two fingers and they slid into her cunt. It was a steamy, swampy morass inside. “He was so huge,” she moaned.

I reached over to tweak her nipples through the white blouse. And what sized tits they were attached to. 32G, as you will find out. She shivered. “Fuck me,” she said softly, urgently. “Finger fuck me hard! I need to be fucked.”

Her face, especially her eyes seemed utterly consumed by lust, as she demanded, “Come on, use your fingers, give it to me! Ream me out.” She dragged my hand from between her legs, drew her knees up to her half-watermelon-sized tits and completely stripped off her thong. She sat her heels on the edge of the couch cushion on either side of her hips and thrust forward with her cunt. “Give it to me, George.”

Her eyes never left the laptop screen, where the younger Katsumi had her legs up and draped over the negro’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as he shagged frantically into her, while another newcomer fucked her mouth. She grabbed my hand by the wrist and thrust it frantically against her slit. A third finger easily slipped into her slick, hungry pussy.

“More! Give me MORE.”

She moaned and jerked as my extended fingers slid into her open sex cavern. Holding my forearm in both her hands, she jerked my fingers back and forth in her cunt as if she was using a dildo. “More ... more ... more.”

On the laptop screen, the sex-aroused Japanese woman lay back, arms outstretched, head bobbing and shaking loosely, while her hips gyrated in time to the thrusts from the two men double penetrating her. Watching on another 6 men held and stroked their boners waiting for their turn. In the present, Katsumi was jabbing my hand into her slit, ramming her cunt with my fingers.

“MORE. Make a fucking fist, damn it.”

More? Katsumi, although tall, had a very petite frame, and it simply didn’t seem possible. On the other hand, the younger Katsumi on the laptop screen was taking a dick as thick as her arm and loving it.

“Give ... it ... to ... me!” she grunted.

I folded my thumb across my palm and watched in amazement as she drove my hand slowly into her cunt. It was difficult getting the wide base of my hand past her pubic bones, but she kept pushing her twat forward while pulling my hand inward. I used my free hand to pull her pussy lips clear, and I watched and felt my hand slide wrist-deep into her wet cunt.

“Yessss.” She began bucking her hips, fucking my hand inside her cunt and arching her pelvis downward to rub her clit against the side of my wrist. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

On the laptop screen, younger Katsumi was screaming and cumming again as she was taken simultaneously in the arse, cunt and mouth by 3 new replacements from the group of waiting men. On the sofa, Katsumi was howling and cumming strongly. When screen Katsumi had finally taken all 11 men’s cum and seemed sated for the moment, sofa Katsumi was far from finished, still pounding my hand into her. I was worried about hurting her, or more importantly, hurting my wrist. She wasn’t worried about anything but more sex.

“I want to suck your cock, swallow your cum, make you cum in my mouth, drink you down.”

The thought had a lot of appeal to me in my present aroused state. However, given that I was somewhat less well-endowed than the men on screen, getting my cock from its present position up to her mouth simply wasn’t feasible while my hand was buried in her snatch. I pointed out this logistical dilemma to her.

“Don’t care. I have to swallow it, taste it.” She pulled my hand back through the tightest part of her cunt. Her eyes rolled upward in their sockets, showing the whites. With a flick of her foot, she pushed the coffee table back away from the sofa making space, then crouched in front of me. She unzipped me, pulled out my dick and promptly sucked it to the back of her mouth. While the laptop screen behind her shifted to a shot of her on her hands and knees, presenting to a new batch of men, Katsumi gobbled my rod noisily, slurping and sucking very, very hard.

But she had only started. She groped behind her back with one hand until her fingers found the empty wine bottle. She set its base on the floor between her legs and lowered her pussy onto it. She took the neck into her cunt and started rolling her hips: all the time sucking away at my hardon and gradually drove the bottle into her pussy to the top of the main label.

The deeper she took the bottle, the more she seemed to hunger for my cock in her throat. Her head went lower and lower and then my glans was through the constriction at the back of her throat and into her gullet. She was groaning and the vibrations were doing nothing to calm the rising cum bubbling in my nuts.

Katsumi pulled back until only my cockhead was in her mouth. She raised her hips till maybe half of the bottle’s neck was still in her pussy. Then with a deep groan, she drove her mouth back down on my tool until her nose was buried in my pubic hair and simultaneously forced her cunt down the bottle. She was bouncing on the bottle and bobbing on my cock. And cumming.

“Oh shit!” I moaned, and my balls spasmed. She held my prick-tip in her mouth and vacuumed the cum out of my balls. I spurted long and hard and then again, and Katsumi swallowed and enjoyed. The more I came, the crazier she seemed to get and more of the bottle disappeared into her cunt. By the time I was emptied, the top of the “Penfolds Grange Bin 95 Shiraz” label, ($800 a bottle. Nothing but the best for me as the University was paying), was hidden inside her cunt.

She wasn’t done with my prick and kept sucking urgently, her tongue moving against the underside of my cock and making me want to scream from that familiar post-ejaculation hypersensitivity. However, I was no porn star and just couldn’t give or take anymore.

“Enough,” I gasped.

Her eyes suddenly focused, and her mouth-work halted. She let my limp cock slide out of her mouth and stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she came yet again. Slowly the bottle dislodged from her twat with a little pussy fart and a slurp. Katsumi set the bottle aside and sat heavily on the floor: her knees pulled up with her arms around them. She panted rapidly for a few moments. So did I as I looked at my new receptionist.

I thought, how did this happen? Well, I was reading yet another file I had found in Dr Graham Martin’s second-hand desk. He was my hero. Chp 1 tells of his life devoted to deceit, fraud, manipulation and sex with Asian women, and Chp 4 how I started my quest to emulate his career and my first 2 Asians. I was enjoying the text file about his first Japanese trip when I was interrupted by a call from my immediate employer, the university dean.

Being a complete lackey and sycophant, I rushed to his office, not even taking the time to finish the file and cum. I noticed he had a new receptionist as I hurried into his august presence.

It should be noted I was now a changed man. My thin comb-over had been replaced by a Bruce Willis/Jason Statham buzz cut and I had a 3-day stubble just like those men featured in reality TV shows such as “Married at First Sight” or “The Batchelor”. I must admit my 3-day stubble took 6 days, not 3 to grow. Instead of my baggy, worn tracksuit pants and a T-shirt that said, “Gone Phishing at the river bank”, I dressed in uncomfortable but trendy designer gear. I looked successful and trustworthy, which merely proves looks can deceive.

“Ah Glen, my fine young compatriot. Good news.” The old fool was getting closer. My name was George and the last time he had called me Gavin. I dozed off as he congratulated me on his self-paid biography that I had written, and how the new department I headed had blackened the rival Melbourne University’s reputation and forestalled, i.e. covered up, any bad news that involved our University Monash. In other words, my new cushy job was safe.

However, I nearly orgasmed when he said he had convinced the Government he had just the team to do their dirty negotiations with Asian countries thus enabling the Government to be at arm’s length and untainted if something went wrong. “Of course, it will mean more work for your department, but there will be considerable Government funding and extra staff. I told them I had a firebrand who would go the extra mile.”

Do people actually talk as he did? “Compatriots, firebrands, going extra miles.” That was him actually talking and being understood instead of his usual waffle.

Extra work. It wouldn’t be me doing it, but my extra staff. And the unaccounted hidden Government funding my department, i.e. me, would receive. “Eat your heart out Dr. Graham Martin,” I thought.

On the way out I took in the new receptionist. She was obviously Asian, but from where? She was dressed like a Japanese JAV actress: tight, short black skirt, expensive black pantyhose and high heels, white blouse and tight, black jacket. But her body shape and features, although Asian were not round and soft like what I associated with my Japanese porn. I stopped to talk to her as I was now more confident with women after recruiting the Filipina sex machine, MerLu and the Korean, Cho. But of course, to destroy my confidence, her first question was, “Guess my nationality?”

I made a quick decision basing it on her outfit and the fact her face reminded me of Sakura Sena, Japan’s first real internet porn star. “Japanese”, I said confidently though in reality, I was guessing.

She smiled. “Most Westerners don’t pick that. How did you?”

Again, caught off guard I stammered the truth. She looked down at her flat chest. “You must mean when she acted under the name Shiho Fujiwara before she had her bolt-ons.”

My jaw dropped. She knew intimate details about JAV performers, and what were bolt-ons? Then I worked it out: fake tits. in about 2000 Sakura changed from acting as Shiho Fujiwara to her real name, acquired very large false 32” G tits in A USA hospital and thus equipped with the largest false tits in Japan became a pioneering Japanese porn star in the then blooming adult internet boom in Japan before marketing herself in her single-model website based in the USA.

I learnt the receptionist’s story. She had accompanied her husband to Australia from Japan on his industry career essential, a 5-year overseas tour of duty. He left her for his 18-year-old secretary and she remained in Australia and was now working as a temporary receptionist on low wages. Talk drifted back, as it does, to the JAV videos with their weird categories such as magic glasses, time-stopping clocks, forced to share a room with the boss, husband settling his Yakuza debts by giving them his wife, sex TV contestant shows. I am sure you know them as well as I do. And Katsumi knew them very well.

Then she asked. ‘You mentioned Sakura Sena. Do you like bolt-ons on Japanese women”? I replied that I didn’t like the huge, hanging, natural look on soft bodies that most JAV actresses had: I preferred the hard, obviously fake, USA-style Sakura had on a lean body. “Do you think they would suit me?”, she asked.

That did it. Two hours later I had my third employee, a booking for Katsumi’s new tits and that night my first Japanese woman. Melbourne’s best plastic surgeon, the Thai Mr Anurak Thainiyom was excellent. He didn’t mention my previous visit with the Korean Cho and only charged an extra $10,000 for that privilege.

In fact, it seemed like he enjoyed the technical challenge explaining because of the extreme size how he would start with a 400cc under the muscle boob job and then a second above muscle enhancement of 1000cc, noting that this would give a tit that was drum tight. I nearly died when he produced the photos of Tia Ling that I had used for Cho’s boob job, but he only used them to compare with photos I had of Sakura Sena to show how the tit bases, unlike Tia’s, would now touch and the size would be rounder, fuller and larger. Anyway, drum tight and as big as possible was what Katsumi, and I, wanted and got.

My department was growing. But something about Katsumi triggered my mind. Just like war speeds up technology improvements so does porn for me. After grabbing some ideas, well actually the code, from other people I worked up a search program that searched for people in videos. There were a lot of time-consuming non-matches but I was thorough and discovered the old JAV video that Katsumi featured in and the basis of her question at my apartment, “Well, are you going to show me what you found?”

Anyway, back to Dr. Martim. This file from the good Doctor was filed as Japanese Wasabi, and I have posted it below. I date it as in the early to mid-70s. He called it Japanese Wasabi.

I was in Japan on a university student recruiting trip for two months. This was before the big influx of overseas students from first Asia, then later India, with tertiary institutions charging overseas students a fee two to three times what the government gave them for local Australians. My idea was for Monash University to be first in, ahead of the more prestigious but conservative and slower-moving Melbourne University. I was starting with the smaller but wealthy Japanese market as they would value Monash’s reputation as the second-best university in Melbourne and we would gain 90% of all their students. China, Indonesia and India would take any institution, but their populations were so large there would be plenty for everyone.

I was staying near the Kunitachi station on the JR Chuo Line in Tokyo. After a busy week working God-forsaken Japanese hours: give me Aussie working conditions and holidays every day of the week, we finished up at 10 pm and went to a little ramen shop near Akihabara Station. The place was filled with Japanese salarymen getting something to eat (mostly beer) before heading home. We had a beer and a couple of bowls of “stamina ramen”, and talked about how difficult Tokyo life is, but instead of running to catch the saishu no Densha (last train), we headed out toward the Kanda area and its myriad drinking establishments.

Ito “Billy” Fukada, my Japanese minder in the association of businesses that controlled the overseas student export market, and his mates had arranged a special for me, a catfight show. As his English was as poor as my Japanese, his sister attended as a translator (she had completed University English). Being a non-drinker that night as I wanted to keep my wits about me, I was soon ignored by the group of 6 dark-suited, white-shirted and black-tied men, and managed some conversation with Mrs. Ogaki. She seemed a fairly cold woman: early 40s, a little podgy and overweight yet still sharp-featured and dressed in that conservative tweed suit, knitted twinset, sensible flat shoes, and God forbid white stockings that so many middle-aged Japanese women wear. Not like the younger ones I had seen on VHS tapes.

The fight that Billy organized for me started and I was surprised by Mrs. Ogaki’s sharp intake of breath. It was her first human reaction. Although Billy had tried to please me, and I appreciated his efforts it was a fake fight. Two women pretended to slap each other before one stopped giggling long enough to pretend that she was in pain.

So, I caught Billy’s attention and Mrs Ogaki translated and soon the two Vietnamese women from my staff whom I had brought along on the Japanese trip were sexfighting for real and for their position ranking on my staff. I had brought Vietnamese as at that time I had no Japanese on my all-female staff. It went on for longer than forty minutes and when it finished the men escorted by the two nude Vietnamese went into a smaller room to do some serious drinking and I don’t know what. I like to think that night I started the Japanese fetish with imported Vietnamese servants and mail-order brides.

I was left with Mrs Ogaki, and although she thawed a bit with her brother Billy absent in the other room, it was still hard work to work up a conversation. After about an hour of polite conversation, suddenly Mrs Ogaki took a deep breath and said that she was competing in her first fight in two days: a real fight like the one with my two Vietnamese, and, as I appeared interested in sexfighting would I be able to honour her by attending.

Sachiko Ogaki’s apartment was in the Tokyo suburb of Shin-Okubo. My map of the Tokyo train system was like an upturned bowl of noodles and it took me some time to untangle the strands to find her suburb. The trip to Shin-Okubo was grey: all the buildings were grey with their snarl of antennas, so monotonous, no trees, no life only concrete. And the sky was grey, too, as if it had leached into the very soul of the city and then down into my ruthless soul.

From the station I let a taxi driver take me to the destination that I’d handed to him on a piece of paper. The complex had 50 or so 6-story apartment blocks, each with about 20 apartments per floor. A total of about 6000 families. The fights were to be held in the Communal Hall of the complex. Mrs. Ogaki was very polite, continually thanking me for attending and hoped she would not disgrace me, as it was her first fight and the organizer Madam Asuka Miura disliked her and had matched her against her 27-year-old daughter-in-law, Aki, who had won her first 4 fights and was fighting her last fight in the novices. Then Sachiko broke down and sobbed saying she had lost all Kasei (family honour) because she was Kogunfunto (alone) with no man to attend and show loyalty and support.

Stifling her tears, she urged me to go and see the earlier fights: women’s Sumo and Pro wrestling style before the sexfight fights began. I almost went but something stopped me and I said, “You shouldn’t be alone now, I’ll stay with you until it’s time for your fight.”

Overwhelmed would be an understatement and she cheered up immediately and fussed around getting ready. She opened a wardrobe in the combined bedroom family room, laid out 4 matching sets of underwear and asked me to select. I chose a maroon-coloured set and she wrote in Kanji on the inside with a black marker, explaining she would be carrying my name and fighting for me. She hesitated and then as if summoning the courage, asked if she could carry my Aiki (unified energy) into the fight.

“Of course,” I said, “I will be supporting you at the fight no matter what happens.”

She blushed. “I ask too much”, she replied burying her head. “I meant the Bujin (warrior spirit) that comes from your seed entering my body”.

You know from my writings I am no fool and it only took me three minutes and her repeating what she said before I understood. Never having been asked this before I didn’t know the correct etiquette, but her eyes caught the swelling in my pants and she smiled. Within seconds we were kissing deeply, our arms around each other, and she was caressing my hardon through my pants. She started unbuttoning my shirt and she kissed me on the neck moving lower as she undid successive buttons. Her tongue circled my nipples and lapped at them.

I cupped Sachiko’s full breasts under her blouse, unhooked her bra and caressed her bare skin. She paused a moment, removed her blouse and bra, and went back to work on me. Her tongue was on my stomach now and her hands unfastened my pants and unzipped me. She pulled my underwear down and fastened her lips around the head of my hard cock.

I looked down at her. Dark brown/black hair, round, sharp-featured face, full heavy 38C breasts, a protruding round belly crisscrossed with stretch marks, a hairy cunt, and stumpy chunky legs under her 41-inch arse. Not a supermodel but she was going to be my first Japanese so I wasn’t picky. She gave a long suck that sent a bolt of pleasure through me. Sachiko took the rest of my clothes off and I reached for her tits again and sat on the edge of the bed. She knelt and took my cock in her mouth again.