Chapter 2

My long anticipated return to the land of the Rising Sun was several years after the adventure I had experienced in the mountains with the estimable duo of the two Miss Yomikos. I had thought of them often throughout those intervening years with much fondness and a desire born of joyful memory. The opportunity to return was almost thrown into my lap by the winds of circumstance and I vowed to take full advantage of the favors of fate and return to my glorious haunts of yesteryear and the memories of the sweet goodness of the two Miss Yomikos.

In my mind, they were two unique essences of feminine perfection and they filled my reverie with visions of raw savage beauty in undeniable form. Their skin, hair and every movement ran on slow motion through my brain fooling me with fantastic remembrances that were long on embellishment and short on reality when I engaged my usually suspicious mind.

I had written a brief capsule of our short encounter and referred to it often to refresh my memory of their exquisite sojourn in my mind and in my heart.

Visions of fluttering tongues that curled and probed with erotic ministrations and the welcoming patches of bushy black hair that surrounded their pretty pink pussies never failed to bring me to anticipatory hardness even when I was in total isolation alone with my remembrance of past conquests and the joys of carnal excesses of the flesh.

From the first moment of my arrival at the International Airport in Tokyo, I could not help but notice the subtle changes in the scene around me. The influx of western travelers into the sacred city was booming in a way that I am certain the elder statesmen had never anticipated and I was just as astonished at the growing influence of foreign words, signs and style of dress on the society as a whole. The place had changed from within and from all indications there had been little resistance to those changes because they carried with them the soothing signals of modernization that was so desperately need in an evolving world.

The motorcars on the streets were familiar to me because they were exactly the same as the exported cars that dominated the streets of most western cities. The industrial base of the country had adapted swiftly to the changing world order and they had assumed leadership in the production of inexpensive and dependable automobiles for western consumption. The streets themselves were no longer the romantic cobblestones of an era long past its glory. They were paved with the latest surface coverings modern transportation hubs could possibly desire and the automation of lights, signals, entrance doors and many other technical advances were far more apparent in this ancient place than in some of the most modern of cities of the west.

I estimated that the previous ratio of traditional dress had been reduced from about ninety percent to less than ten percent in the current state of affairs. I suspected that like everywhere else it was a generational thing with geriatric implications or in a lesser degree, some sort of fashion statement by proponents of a cherished past.

In the cluttered corridors of my disorganized mind, I saw the two Miss Yomikos as a single person, not a two headed monster, but a composite of sorts of the two unique personalities blending into a perfect female with superior assets in every single category. If my memory served me correctly, it was Miss Yomiko number two that was the anal love-making devotee with her petite little heart-shaped bottom that waved like a flag of surrender on the battlefield of anal delights. I remembered how she would sigh like a love-addled schoolgirl when I defeated her brave little sphincter and invaded her private places with hungry frenzy and complete lack of composure. She would give her core up to me at that moment and her shudders of feminine orgasm frequently triggered my rush of sperm into her soft yielding fundament like lava rushing down to the sea. My creamy deposits would cool from molten lines of melted steel into the hardened stiffness of newly-formed puddles of guilty carnal lust. Her visual twin, Miss Yomiko number one would lick that residue with her pointed sensuous pink tongue down into her stone flat tummy with the adroitness of a full-fledged nymphet and I would kiss her spunk stained lips with my ardent desire.

They both were highly skilled with the use of their lovely lips to stiffen my resolve from a state of semi-hardness into raging passion. It was our agile positioning of one of the Miss Yomikos on top of the other that allowed me to alternate between their dual posterior entryways with consummate delight until I culminated my release in one or the other. I have to admit that with my eyes shut tight, it was impossible to tell which orifice received my liquid gift because their level of tightness, depth of penetration and even their body temperature was so identical that it was impossible to tell the difference. On the other hand, it was easy to discern their pussy geography because Miss Yomiko number one was by far the juiciest with a constant spray of feminine liquids in all directions along with her verbal exclamations of physical approval for my determined efforts. Miss Yomiko number two were much more refined and she constantly fought to contain her delight at being taken in her female parts in whatever unusual position I might fancy at the moment of supreme union.

It was Miss Yomiko number one that welcomed my heavy hand on her rump on any excuse and she would often would lift her pretty bottom up high and plead with me for my spirited spanking of her posterior and even her female parts including her hard nipples at the end of her happy air bags with their perky attitude of saucy disrespect. I enjoyed making her tears flow copiously at such times because she was usually so receptive to my entry at the conclusion of her correction.