Chapter 13

Yeah, I was concerned by her disappearance- it could be called that at this point.

Akemi told me that once she went for a summer weekend outing with friends, including some people she didn’t know. And the first afternoon she spent time with a guy, talking, walking in the mountainous woods. They got along well, he was interesting, she said, but she wasn’t interested in him that way.

The first morning before dawn he climbed into her bed beside her said he wanted to get a last few minutes of rest before starting the day, laughed and snuggled. Akemi didn’t tell him to leave but turned on her side facing away from him so he wouldn’t be encouraged. And he put his hand under the teeshirt she was wearing, his arm along her side, reaching- snaking?- up to the back of her shoulder, which he gripped gently, smoothly. The fabric was pulled by the thickness of his arm, there really wasn’t enough space inside the teeshirt, and bound it in place, aligned with her side all the way from the elbow, as if in a sheath or a scabbard. Akemi, shaped by Japanese culture, would naturally think of a sword. The man’s arm wouldn’t easily leave the tight place; he’d have to work it out. And she felt his cock against her bottom, almost unnoticeable at first, pressing softly, rhythmically.

His hand slipped around to her breast once but didn’t stay there. He wasn’t going to out and out force himself on her. Finally, giving up for the moment, he turned onto his back, frustrated by the lack of response, lay there face up. And after a while like that he reached to Akemi’s hand (in the meantime, she too had turned from her side to her back, no longer facing away from him so he wouldn’t think her unfriendly) and took her by the wrist, swung her hand his way. She didn’t know at the start what he was doing, where he wanted her hand to go. At first it landed on his chest, the hairs there, but sort of bounced off again, like a plane landing with skips on the runway, and bounded, with his hand’s guidance, onto his cock.