Chapter 1

Tom sat at a desk speaking in English with a group of Japanese high school students. The teacher, Sensai Yuki, sat with a pair of students discussing today’s lesson. The bell rang, and the students bowed and left the room for their lunch period.

Yuki walked over and asked, “Tom San, go for walk today?”

Tom looked at his phone and said, “Yuki San, okay, we have plenty of time until the next class.” Though he had been living in Japan for a year as an English teaching assistant for the Jet program, he still couldn’t speak Japanese very well. Exiting the school and looking down the narrow street in both directions, he asked, “This way? Or that way?”

“This way,” she said.

They walked a few blocks. “Have the Jet people told you what school you’ll be at next week?”

“Actually,” he said. “This is my last day in the Jet program. I want to look to do something different.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You need to speak better Japanese to do most jobs here.”

“Yeah. I know. But I’m tired of being a token American in a classroom. If I could be a real teacher, then maybe. Otherwise, I want to try something new.”

“I see,” she said. “Do you think you’ll ever want to go back home to America?”

“Sure, someday,” he said. “But for now, Japan is my home.”

They continued chatting, and after a few more blocks and random turns down side-streets, he said, “Oh, we’ve never walked this far from school before. We should find a spot to eat our Bento boxes soon and then head back.”

“Hai,” she said. “I mean, yes.”

As they walked toward a grassy area with park benches up ahead, Tom noticed a poster with a bizarre photo on it. It had a drawing of men’s heads sticking out of the wall with their faces at chair height under dining tables. Some women were sitting on some of the men’s faces while they ate.

He approached the poster and studied it closely. The poster read,

“協力者募集”

“彼の顔の上に座るる 女性のためのレレストラン”

Dafuq is that all about? he wondered. Another bizarre Japanese TV game show?

Yuki stepped closer and said, “You like that?”

“I don’t really know what it is.”

“It’s a restaurant where women sit on men’s faces. It’s very popular. All the ladies are talking about it. You want to do that job?”

His face turned red as he looked back at her with indecision.

“I think you do.”

“No,” he said. “That’s silly.”

“You sure? It’s no sillier than toilet restaurant, or maid cafe, or cat cafe.”

“I guess...” he said. “But I liked the cat cafe. That was fun.”

“We just can go in and ask about job,” she said.

“Well, okay,” he answered.

They entered the glass door and walked up a flight of stairs. A hostess was standing at a podium at the top of the stairs. “ごめんなさいい 14:00 オープン 男性のみ” she said.

“彼はあなたの仕事について興興味津々々” said Yuki.

“付いて来てください” said the hostess as she started to walk toward an alcove.

“Come,” whispered Yuki to Tom.

They passed through a frilly inner lobby lined with curtained changing rooms off to one side and a shelf of storage bins on along one wall. An exit on the other end opened into the restaurant dining room where several women were cleaning. The room was partitioned off with large bulkheads between the tables. Tom immediately noticed the men as depicted in the poster. They seemed to be lying on their backs with their upper torso passing through some kind of black rubber membrane with their faces at chair seat level under the tables. Their bodies disappeared into the membranes, hence the bulkheads between the tables. A panel was open on one such wall and there were four naked men alternating directions with their heads extending out through each side under tables that sat 4 guests each. A woman was in the confined space sitting on them giving them all a sponge bath. Tom noticed white PVC pipes sticking up through their thighs with a 45 degree wye fitting slid over their dicks. The hostess led Yuki and Tom to another woman wearing a business suit and then said, “彼はあなたの仕事について興興味津々々”

The three women spoke in Japanese for a while, occasionally glancing at Tom, then motioned for them all to follow through the kitchen into a small office. The manager pulled two contracts out of her desk and set them down and explained it to Yuki. Tom looked closely at the contracts, though they were in Japanese. One was a bit longer than the other with more underlined places to fill in additional information.

“English?” said Tom, interrupting them. The manager glared at him for a moment before resuming in Japanese.

After a bit more, Yuki said “ありがとう.” They all bowed to each other and the two were led out.

Back down on the sidewalk Tom asked, “So, what’s the deal with this place?”

Yuki giggled and said, “They need men to provide faces for women to sit on. Most men only take the job for one shift and never return. They’re finding it hard to find enough men. They’re thinking of hiring women to be seats, too, but I don’t think any woman will want another woman to sit on her face unless she’s lesbian.”

“How do they breathe?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t eaten here yet.”

“And what were those contracts?” he asked.

“They have two options: permanent or temporary. You can choose to just work one shift one time, or be a permanent fixture. Like I said, most men try it for one shift and never return.”

“The reality mustn’t be as much fun for the man as the fantasy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said with a giggle.

“What does the job pay?”

“It depends. I think they’ll start you at ¥8,400 per day. They open at 11:00, close at 14:00, open again at 17:00, and close for the day at midnight.”

“That’s not much.”

“I know. But the job is to just lie on your back the whole day, so I don’t think you can expect big wages for that.”

“Right,” he said.

“Are you going to do it?” she asked with a giggle.

His face turned red again as he looked down at the ground and said, “I don’t think so.”

“Do you have a hanko? A signature stamp?”

“Yes,” he said. “I got one early on in case I needed it, but I never had to use it yet. The Jet people have taken care of everything for me so far. Why do you ask?”

“Good,” she said slowly. “You’ll need it to sign any contracts you might want to sign on your own without the Jet program taking care of all your needs.”

“Right,” he said and looked at his phone. “Anyway, we better get back to school. Our next class starts in about 15 minutes.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “We should hurry.”

The rest of the day’s classes were uneventful, and they didn’t have an opportunity to chat about personal matters again.

After the last class, the students were all busy cleaning the school. Yuki approached Tom as he was leaving the building. “Call me if you decide to take that restaurant job,” she said. “The people running it seemed a bit dodgy to me. I can go with you to help you decide things. Or any other job that requires you to sign a contract.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve heard that employment contracts in Japan can be very restrictive,” said Tom.

“Yes,” said Yuki. “You’ve heard of the girl band AKB48?”

“Yeah. I’m not a big fan of J-Pop, but I’ve hard of them.”

“Their contract forbids them from having boyfriends or anything. Contracts in Japan can have any requirements the employer wants and be binding. Employers can even beat employees for poor performance or violating the contract.”

“Really? That wouldn’t be legal in the U.S.”

“Remember the Amagasaki train crash in Osaka back in 2005?”

“Yeah, I remember hearing about it on the news. What about it?”

“The driver, Ryūjirō Takami had been beaten by his supervisors the week before the crash for being late one time. He was driving the train too fast because he didn’t want a second beating.”

“Beaten?” he asked in shock.

“The overseas news just said he was reprimanded harshly for being late. But everyone in Japan knows the truth. As an American, please never tell anyone what I just told you about beatings. They’ll get angry and deny it happens and accuse you of making lies about Japan. It’s like that saying you Americans have about elephants.”

“Oh, the elephant in the living room,” he said. “But can’t you just get another job?”

“Maybe you can in America, but it’s not like that here,” she said. “You lose honor here by quitting or getting fired. Word spreads. Nobody else will ever hire you again. There’s no welfare in Japan, so your only choice is...”

“The suicide forest?” he said.

“Oh?” she said. “You know about that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I know about that.”

“So please be careful if you try to live on your own here, Tom San.”

“I will, Yuki San,” he said with a bow. “Thank you,” he said and headed for the station to catch the train home. He only lived three stations away, so it was a short ride.

He ate a light dinner, watched some silly Japanese game show where people had to answer questions correctly while naked, or else all be dropped into a pit of fake vomit, men and women together, which he assumed was just green Jello with chopped nuts and vegetables mixed in.

Then he went to bed and decided to watch some porn on his phone. Japanese porn was strange, to say the least, often involving bizarre scenarios and crazy costumes. When they were naked, the naughty bits were pixelated due to some outdated Japanese censorship law.

American porn was more his style with one guy and one, or maybe more, women all naked and just fucking their brains out. And no censorship. He decided to search for “facesitting” and “queening,” but American porn was rather lame in that genre. Every single facesitting video he googled showed a woman squatting over the man’s face, not actually sitting. More often than not, they were dressed, not naked. All American facesitting porn, he discovered, was utter crap! Not one video depicted a woman actually sitting for real on a man’s face. Not one!!! If there ever was a moment that a woman situated herself so that her full body weight was on some guy’s face, it was just for a split second. And they were wearing panties on the rare times they were not fully dressed. No female ass flesh touching male face flesh. Maybe the good stuff is behind paywalls, but if there are no clips on Google, how is anyone to find them? He put his phone down on the charger in disgust and rolled over to go to sleep.

Sora was lounging on her sofa chatting on her phone with Yoko. “明日の昼食に会おうかか。” she asked.

Yoko answered, “Tomorrow? Sure. Where do you want to go for lunch? The Noodle Bowl? Sushi King?”

“Maybe we would like to go someplace unique?”

“The Cat Cafe? The cats are so cute!”

“I’ve been there so many times. I’m tired of cat hair in my soup. Maybe Modern Toilet Restaurant? Or the Men’s Face Restaurant?”

“I have no preference. Either one. You choose.”

“Okay. Let’s go to the Men’s Face Restaurant. I haven’t been there yet.”

The next morning Tom got up at 7:00, early for him on a Saturday being his day off. He thought about calling Yuki, but he didn’t want to impose on her or seem needy and helpless. “I need to start doing things on my own here without help if I’m going to make a home for myself in Japan. She seems to like me, so maybe I’ll just call her in a few days and ask her out.” He took a shower and got dressed and was soon on a train headed back downtown.

He headed for the school and then retraced his steps from the previous day to that strange restaurant.

Early that same morning, Sora texted Yoko, “It’s such a nice warm day, let’s ride our bicycles to lunch.”

Yoko texted back, “Yes. I like that idea. Let’s meet in front of Sushi King at 10:00 and ride downtown together from there. We should get there around 11:00, but if we get there before the restaurant opens, we can walk around for a while before we eat.”

Sora texted back, “I’ll see you then.”

It was 8:30 by the time Tom got to the restaurant. The same female hostess was on duty.

“I’m here for the job,” he said.

“付いて来てください” she said and led him through the restaurant as before. As he walked through, he observed the front wall was lined with tables for four against windows overlooking the street. Each table was separated by a bulkhead as deep as the table and about six feet thick. Obviously, the four men whose faces were the seats for the two tables on each side were inside that enclosed space. There were four tables along the front row. An inner row of tables seated six each. And the rear wall had tables for two.

Once again, he was presented with the same two contracts. One was longer with more blank lines to fill in. He took his hanko out of his pocket and moved to stamp the longer contract. One of the women waved his hand away and tapped on the blank spaces on the contract. Not knowing what she meant, he then moved and stamped the other contract.

One of the women then led him into another small office and said, “服を脱ぎながらしてください。”

“What?” he said. “I don’t understand.”

She made a gesture to unbutton her clothes and a sweeping down gesture.

“Oh, I think you want me to get naked.”

“うんん” she said. “裸”

She stood there as he removed his clothing down to his underwear.

She pointed to his briefs and waved her hand downward, so he removed his briefs as well.

“付いて来てください” she said and walked out into the restaurant as if expecting him to follow.

“I guess ‘付いて来てください’ means ‘follow’,” he said as he followed her. “See! I’m learning Japanese.” He felt very self-conscious walking through the restaurant completely naked with his hands over his dick while other women were busy cleaning.

She walked up to one of those bulkheads separating two tables along the back row.

They stopped at a table that had a man on one side, but one seat was unoccupied. The woman motioned for him to get in. He noticed that the small opening in the wall behind the headrest was barely big enough for a body to slide into, but was covered by a sort’a rubber membrane with three tiny holes.

She pointed at his feet at at the middle hole, then at his two hands and at the two side holes.

Aha! He stepped into the hole and pushed himself through. A padded platform extended into the wall for him to lie on. The rubber membrane stretched and slid up onto his ankles, then up his thighs as he slid himself deeper into the wall and finally to his chest. She grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands through the other two holes. The membrane was almost painfully tight around his chest and upper arms.

She reached down and pulled a thick leather strap up under his armpit, across his chest and down under his other armpit. He heard her fumble with something then she ratcheted it tight, then tighter still until it was almost painful.

She then opened a panel in the wall, though he couldn’t see what she was doing from his angle. She felt her place more straps over his waist, his hips, his ankles, his elbows, and his wrists. She then proceeded to tighten them all. He felt her slide that pipe thing over his cock. Then she tightened all the straps yet again even tighter. He tried to move, but was totally immobile. He could wiggle his wrists and feet but nothing else. He tried to feel for something he could touch with his fingers or toes, but nothing was within reach. He had no way to even make the slightest sound.

Setsuko was siting on her bed chatting on her phone with Kasumi. “何かを今今夜しよう楽しい” she said.

Kasumi answered, “Sure. What do you want to do tonight that’s fun?”

“Do you want to meet for dinner and then to a club to meet some boys?”

“オーケー,” answered Kasumi. “That sounds fun. Where should we eat?”

“Let’s go to that restaurant where we sit on men’s faces,” said Setsuko.

“Maybe we’d rather go someplace more respectable.”

“Maybe it will get us in the mood to meet boys?”

“Okay. Let’s go there. Meet at 18:00 or so?”

Tom lay there in silence. He knew it must be close to 11:00, but he had no way of knowing the precise time. Staring straight ahead at the ceiling revealed some tiles and recessed mood lighting. Trying to look around, all he could see was the underside of the table just above him, the wall to his right, and the other tables across the aisle to his left. Numerous men were all in the same predicament as he. Stretching to tilt his head back, he could see the top of the man’s head on the opposite side of his table. He could hear some men in the distance talking in Japanese. Several women were busily doing last minute cleaning elsewhere in the room. Dishes and cutlery were clinking in the kitchen preparing meals for lunch.

Sora took a drink from her water bottle as she and Yoko pedaled their bikes. The day was quickly warming up and the sweat was dripping into her eyes and down her back.

“We’re making good time,” said Yoko. “I think we’ll get there right at 11:00.”

“I hope so. I need to get into air conditioning soon or I’ll melt.”

The restaurant had opened and Tom heard the hostesses bringing customers to their tables. Several of the two-seat tables, and one of the four-seat tables, had filled. He was at a table farthest from the entrance close to the kitchen so he hadn’t been sat on yet.

Hostesses were busy seating people and someone was pushing a cart of drinks around, keeping the guests well lubricated. Is that such a good idea under the circumstances? he wondered.

Sora and Yoko parked their bikes at a bicycle rack on the corner just a block down from the restaurant.

“Which way?” asked Yoko.

“This way,” said Sora as the two girls walked down the street.

Entering the restaurant through a glass door, they climbed up a flight of stairs. A hostess was standing at a podium at the top of the stairs. “Welcome,” she said. “How many in your party?”

“Two,” said Sora. “Just us.”

“Have you been here before?” asked the hostess.

“No,” said both women.

“Follow me,” she said and led them into the changing room. The hostess handed them each a dark gray paper skirt. “Please go into a changing room and get undressed from the waist down. Place your shoes and clothing in the small container and we’ll rinse them out for you while you eat. There are slippers already in each of the changing rooms.

“Oh? That’s very kind of you,” said Sora.

“It’s our pleasure. Of course, you can be nude from the waist down if you prefer, or you can wear the skirts for modesty. They’re long enough that they’ll hide everything from view of the other people in the restaurant, but short enough to leave your bottom bare when you sit. And they’re disposable so you can toss them in the bin when you change back when you leave.”

“Very nice,” said Yoko.

Sora and Yoko went into a couple of changing rooms, removed their jeans and thongs, placed them in the tubs provided, and put on the disposable skirts. They attached around their waist with Velcro so they fit perfectly. Both girls looked at themselves in their mirrors, front and back, to make sure the skirts fully covered any naughty bits before leaving their respective dressing rooms.

A different hostess was waiting for them who led Sora and Yoko into the dining room and down an aisle between tables where customers were seated. Some were eating while others were waiting to be served.

The hostess stopped at a table for two.

Sora looked down at one of the men’s faces and said, “A foreigner.”

“American,” said the hostess.

Sora looked at Yoko who just shrugged. Yoko stepped in and sat on the opposite seat with a Japanese man, so Sora stepped in and sat on the American’s face. It felt odd, like she was sitting on a bowling ball, and his nose was poking her. She squirmed around a bit until his nose slid into her vagina. That made it much more comfortable.

Tom’s cock was hard inside that pipe from anticipation, and his heart was pounding in terror. He tried to imagine what it might be like. He had gone down on a few girls in his life, but had never had one actually sit, or even squat, on his face. He had asked a couple of prior girlfriends to sit on his face, but they just said, “Ewwww,” -- American girls just have no imagination in the bedroom, he thought. How long would they make him hold his breath at a time?

Just then several people came close and stopped at Tom’s table. He recognized the hostess, but not the two girls with her.

One of the girls looked down at him and said, “彼は外国人”

Tom recognized the sound of the word “gaijin.” Tom hated that word, it was almost like a racial slur against foreigners in Japan, but Japan isn’t known for being politically correct like the West is.

The hostess then said, “彼はアメリカ人人” which he recognized as meaning “American.”

From his angle, he could see both girls were wearing identical gray short skirts. They looked flimsy, almost like they were just made out of paper. He could almost see paradise, but not quite. It was too dark under those black skirts.

One of the girls stepped over the opposite guy, while the other girl swung her leg over Tom’s head to sit. It was that moment he saw she was wearing no panties or anything. Her bottom was bare. And being Japan, her pussy was quite hairy.

He also couldn’t help noticing the musky odor of sweat coming from her. Looking directly up her inner thighs from between her knees into her pussy and ass crack, he saw that her skin was glistening with perspiration, and the back of her skirt was dripping wet. A few drops of sweat, at least he hoped it was sweat, dripped from her crotch onto his face. It must have turned much hotter outside than earlier.

As her pussy came down upon him, Tom swallowed hard and started shaking in fear. Please don’t suffocate me to death.

A waitress stopped by and handed Sora and Yoko a couple of menus and said she’ll be right back to take their order.

A moment later a different waitress came by with a cart and placed moist towels on the table and poured them each a glass of sake. The two girls wiped their hands and then said “cheers” together as they took a sip.

“This feels strange,” said Sora.

“Yes,” said Yoko. “I was embarrassed to sit at first, but I don’t think he can see anything.”

“Let’s not think about that and enjoy our lunch,” said Sora.

“Yes,” said Yoko. “So what are you having?”

Sora skimmed through the menu. “They have a very large selection.”

“I see,” said Yoko. “I think I’ll have gyoza. Or maybe the yakitori. Or maybe something else. There are too many choices. And you?”

“I can’t decide between udon or soba,” said Sora.

Tom, meanwhile, was in agony. His lungs were screaming for air, and despite the diminutive size of these Japanese women, it felt like his head was being crushed in a hydraulic press. By looking at the other guests a moment ago, he knew she was sitting on his face with her feet planted flat on the floor while they chatted in Japanese. He honestly didn’t expect the weight of a woman actually sitting on his face to be seriously painful. Not only that, but he was struggling and thrashing madly behind the wall, yet was bound so tightly with his hands and feet out of reach of any surface that he couldn’t make any sounds whatsoever.

“How long can we make these men hold their breaths for?” asked Yoko.

“I’m not sure,” said Sora. “A few minutes at a time, I guess.”

“How long have we been sitting?” asked Yoko.

“Uhm...” said Sora.

The waitress stepped up to their table and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

“Oh,” said Yoko. “Yes, I think we’re ready. Are you ready, Sora San?”

“Yes,” said Sora. May I have tonkatsu? And can I have two pieces of sushi with it?”

“Of course,” said the waitress. “And you?” she said to Yoko.

“I’ll have unagi please.”

“Thank you,” said the waitress. “It will be a few minutes.”

The waitress with the drink cart rolled past again and refilled their sake glasses.

Sora took another sip of Sake and said, “This is strong sake!”

“It’s very good,” said Yoko as she also took a sip.

“Oh!” said Sora. “I think we’re forgetting something,” she giggled and lifted herself up to let her man take a breath.

Yoko did the same.

Both men gasped explosively under the women’s butts and both took quite a few seconds to catch their breaths.

“Okdzrd cnm’s jhkk ld!” gasped the American just as Sora sat back down on his face and slid his nose back into her vagina.

“What did he say to you?” asked Yoko.

“I don’t know,” said Sora. “I don’t understand English.”

“He’s probably complimenting you on the taste of your anus,” said Yoko with a giggle.

“Yes,” giggled Sora as she took another sip of sake. “That must be what he said.”

Tom was feeling lightheaded and dizzy. This girl was making him hold his breath for longer and longer each time. It finally reached a point where he no longer felt the need to breathe; he just felt euphoric. Then she lifted her ass to let him breathe, and the cycle started over again. Take a breath ... Darkness ... Crushing pain ... Need to breathe ... Lungs in agony ... Struggling violently ... Dizziness ... Euphoria ... Blinding light ... Take a breath ... Repeat...

Their food was brought out about ten minutes later.

“頂きます” said Sora and Yoko together and started eating.

A moment later, the waitress stopped and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Hai,” said Sora and Yoko.

The two women continued to eat and talk. “New handbag ... New shoes ... Game show ... Book I’m reading ... Boyfriends ... Weight ... Diet ... Work ... Crowded trains ... Sex ... New romantic movie coming out next month ... Cute dress I saw in a shop a few days ago ... Boy I flirted with yesterday ... Don’t tell my boyfriend ... Famous actor cheating on her husband ... Politician cheating on his wife...” When they remembered to, they lifted their buts up every few minutes to let the men breathe.

Fluid was dribbling into Tom’s nose, through his sinuses, and into the back of his throat, which he swallowed regularly. As time passed, he was swallowing more and more of it, and more frequently. Unable to breathe, he couldn’t smell or taste it, but he knew what it was.

Finishing a satisfying meal about 45 minutes later, Sora leaned in and whispered to Yoko, “My vagina is so wet right now. When I get home, I’m calling my boyfriend and asking him to come over to visit.”

“I will do the same thing,” giggled Yoko.

Finally, the girl stood and climbed off Tom. He panted furiously, gulping in volumes of sweet, cool air. The two girls walked away and out of the restaurant. Odors, both strange and familiar attacked his senses -- pussy juice, sweat, a hint of piss, and even a hint of something he’d rather not think about -- well, her anus was pressed tightly against his lips for nearly an hour non-stop. His eyes stung from the cocktail of her body fluids smeared across his face.

A bus girl showed up to clean the table. She even knelt next to each of the two men. She washed his face with a warm soapy cloth and then dried him off.

Then for the first time that day, he relieved his bladder into that PVC pipe hanging off his dick. He was also aware that there was a pipe under his ass for him to shit into as well. Convenient! Never have to leave.

Tom was glad they hadn’t seated anyone else on him in the half hour since those two girls left. The fantasy was super erotic. The reality was the most horrific torture he could imagine.

Then, two more girls were seated at his table. Again, they wore the same gray pleated paper skirts and no undies. Her bare ass landed on his face and repeated the performance from before.

One again, Tom was in agony as the girl sitting on him made him hold his breath for minutes at a time, giving him only a few seconds to take each breath. The two girls seemed to forget they were sitting on a living person as they ate and chatted about girly nonsense in Japanese.

At least he was getting skilled at snorting in pussy juice while holding his breath.

The girls finished their meal about a half hour later. As before, the bus girl washed his face again. No one else was seated on him before the restaurant closed at 14:00.

“Excuse me!” he said to a waitress walking past.

“何かが間間違っているかか。” she said.

“Please let me leave. I don’t want to do this any more. I’ll understand if I don’t get paid.”

“英語を話せません” she said. “ごめんなさいい”

“English?” he said. “English!”

“英語を話せません” she repeated and walked away.

Setsuko started her car and drove across town to pick up Kasumi. Then the two girls drove on to the restaurant. It would be about an hour drive to the prefecture where the Man Face Restaurant was.

The two girls listened to the latest CD from AKB48 as they drove.

They arrived about an hour later, and Setsuko parked her car in a small car park near the train station a few blocks from the Men’s Face Restaurant.