The Blonde Samurai (20 page)

I partook of the tea and sweetmeat offered to me as I observed Akira, his beautiful pectoral muscles with erect nipples on his hairless chest bronzed from the summer sun, his large muscular thighs making me ache to find myself between them, yet I perceived a certain innocence about him and wondered if he had been with a woman. He was a romantic, presenting me with a willow-leaf arrowhead and telling me I had pierced his heart. His flirtatious manner toward me intrigued me, but his allegiance to Shintaro no doubt surpassed any romantic love, since they believed love rooted in human feelings brought about distrust and was considered a dangerous emotion among samurai. No, love associated with duty courted
his
cock. I could see that clearly in Akira’s way of standing against the paper door, hips out-thrust, looking at his lord, all setting up unseen communication between them that vibrated with energy when he wrapped his arms around the large pillar, his kimono hiked up around his waist and revealing his tight nude buttocks gleaming in the muted light of the bronze
andon.
Tiny pricks of fire erupted on my arms, so acute was I to his sensual energy reaching across the room to me. Heated, excited, I sat upon a large silk brocade pillow, the effect heightening my unconscious response when Shintaro fed a sweetmeat dripping with honey into Akira’s laughing mouth, the stickiness sliding down the side of his jaw. I pulled in my breath, waiting, when Shintaro scooped up the honey on the younger man’s face and licked it off his fingers, his cock hard and erect,
then grunted. He wiped his fingers with a moist cloth then covered them with a pleasant-smelling oil from a small red lacquered bowl before thrusting them into his squire’s anal hole. Looking at me, his gaze never wavering, Shintaro lubricated the younger samurai’s anus before he thrust his cock into the puckered opening. I must comment on the size of Shintaro’s cock as I remember it, its naked crown spread above its shaft, much thicker than the younger man’s cock swinging from his navel to his thigh, then the other way, in union with his lord’s thrusts. An illusion? Or the hapless dream of a lonely woman, since I shall not have the opportunity to compare them when I return to Japan…but ’tis a grand time I promised you, dear lady reader, and you shall have it. I have made known to you my private pleasure of having Shintaro’s cock inside me and design here to enlighten you with the wicked pleasures of these two men together and Akira’s beauty as I watched them at play. I squeezed my pubic muscles together, riveted to them as I was like a sodden clover matted down with heavy dew, my concentration so complete I swore I also felt the hot pain shooting through Akira’s body then the flash of sweet burning as he gasped for breath, his body yielding to Shintaro’s thrusts over and over…the young warrior grinding his arse against Shintaro’s groin when he pressed against him…his lord clenching his buttock muscles as he forged in and out…grunting loudly, he fucked Akira as incense burned, its heady scent mixing with the smell of sex, arousing me as much as the evocative sight of the two men engaged in coupling. Shintaro putting him in numerous positions, pulling his strong muscular legs apart to gain greater access into him, tipping his buttocks higher, then bursting into him with a surge of power that shook the wooden building like a thunder god emptying his fury into the heavens. I cried
out when I saw Akira throw his head back in orgiastic ecstasy like a tortured saint in the throes of godliness, his forehead half covered with sweaty dark hair come loose from his braided top knot, his role as submissive no less powerful than that of Shintaro, his elegance in the nuance of surrender startling to watch. For no stigma was attached to his role since age rather than social position defined the act that brought him to such a blissful state. His alliance with such a high-ranking samurai as Shintaro conferred considerable status upon him as he shuddered in rapture as my samurai went deeper and deeper into his entrails.

I had scant idea then my moist pussy and dark puckered hole were next to be pleasured, not by one but
two
men, though tradition dictated only Shintaro emptied his seed into me, as he did in Akira.

They say an Irish writer commands the same fear as the priest because of the power of her words to make the soul tremble. Or titillate it, as I have done here by arousing the heat in you, dear lady reader, and satisfying your appetite for a new sexual experience. But I must not disappoint those readers who find the tea ceremony a provocative ritual and are curious about its sensuality. Here then is the tea ceremony with its power of suggestion, its meditation on the virility of life and art. It was a sanctuary where we three took solace in the tranquillity of the spirit before experiencing the pleasures of the flesh.

“The tea is the least important part of the ceremony,” Shintaro said, explaining that purity of gesture, silence or spoken words were all a form of tea discipline. Tea utensils were washed and arranged, then powdered green tea prepared in a single bowl from which we all drank. Instead of asking
permission to examine the tea items as ritual dictated, I requested to examine the cocks of these two samurai. Bowing slightly, they stood before me and placed their members before me on square silken pillows, and after I expressed admiration of their beauty, Shintaro continued.

“Rigorous order is observed with elegance,” he said. “The only disorder sought is that of nature in her naked form.” He ran his hands over my bare belly, then parted my thighs. “A living flower can be the sole ornament in the alcove,” he continued, parting my pussy lips; upon finding moisture upon his finger pads, he inserted two fingers inside me, as if parting the petals of a blossom. The ceremony consisted of precise choreographed movements performed in a spirit of stillness and concentration. “Without hurry,” he said, “then each guest is served tea and silently drains his cup.” To demonstrate, he eased his tongue into me and nibbled on my burning bud, my excitement growing…growing until I couldn’t stop myself from twisting about as if I were caught in a trap. But oh, what a lovely trap.

“You drink with gusto, my lord,” I said, letting go with a loud moan, my newfound pleasure setting off an echoing in my lower body that produced glittering sensations within me, such delights making me squirm to and fro without embarrassment. The intensity of his nibbling increased when I pushed out my hips, urging him to continue with his playful game. “I pray you find me pleasing to your taste.”

He laughed. “Your juices are sweet and refreshing,” he said, then he continued licking my clit back and forth with long, satisfying strokes. Apparently I wiggled with too much enthusiasm. He stopped. “Hold still,” he said, “I have not yet quenched my thirst.”

I tried to speak, a silly thought to continue our banter, but
before I could utter a word, Shintaro put his strong arms around my hips, gripping my bare arse with his hands and pulling me closer to him. I gasped loudly when he pressed the wet tip of his tongue deeper into me, making me cry out. I jerked forward with such passion that he let me go, making me wonder if our game had ended.

No,
no,
I begged inwardly.

“I shall assist you in restraining her, my lord,” I heard Akira say behind me as if he answered my silent plea, his presence so close I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. If I had expected him to grab my wrists, I was wrong. Akira wrapped his hands around my nude breasts and played with my nipples, pulling and tugging on the hard nubs. Pleasing contractions raced through me, sparking in parallel with the wanton desire radiating through my lower pubic region.

I could never have anticipated what happened next. Shintaro also became playful, his tongue darting between the moist folds of my lower lips, tickling my clit with short licks, then exploring the sensitive piece of skin near my anus and making my body jerk with tiny spasms. My legs trembled, my thighs quivered, but never once did he fall out of rhythm during this delicious taste of the tea ceremony designed to please his most anxious guest. Appetizers were often served, he explained—in this case, me—along with sake. Then he proceeded to demonstrate. Shintaro’s provocative use of his tongue-tip reminded me of the art of making sake from rich, fertile rice, such as the polishing of the rice until it shone as lustrous as a cultured pearl. Here it was my samurai sucking and polishing my tiny kernel, then fluffing my pubic hair with his long fingers before pouring sake from a small porcelain cup into my navel until it overflowed, tickling me. I wiggled my hips, tingling all over as the tepid liquid trickled
down over my pussy to the crack between my buttocks. Shintaro put his head between my thighs and lapped up the sweet rice wine from my throbbing pussy to satisfy his palate. I let out a long moan.

“You torment me, my lord, with your busy tongue,” I said, breathless, “when it is your cock that I wish.”

“And you shall have it,” he promised, delighting in teaching me this most provocative aspect of the tea ceremony no foreign guest had deigned to experience. “But not before I present to you a gift from the gods bestowed only upon a woman.”

“Is that jealousy I detect in your voice, my lord?”

He shook his head. “Only if I were not the first to pleasure you in such a manner.” He continued licking me, then paused to tease me with, “I knew by your reaction the first time I tasted you that I have that honor.”

“And what about Akira?” I dared to venture. “As your most trusted squire, should he not be the second man to pleasure me so?”

Shintaro threw back his head and laughed. “Such impertinence from a woman I have never experienced.” He became serious again. “But never before have I taken a woman so beautiful to my futon.” He nodded to Akira, who grinned widely, then he said to me, “You shall have your wish.”

Before I could linger in glorious anticipation, Akira joined his master in his quest between my legs, the two of them thrusting their tongues in and out of me, taking turns nibbling on me, tasting me, making me hotter than I’d ever imagined and licking the sake off my very wet folds. And me being the brazen girl that I am, I lifted my hips higher to meet them, my excitement growing as one then the other continued their relentless probing inside me. I’m not sure which samurai
triggered my passion to a breaking point with his frenzied tongue, forcing me to the brink and then headfirst over it, but I fell into a mad delirium, my clit burning with a delicious pleasure I prayed would never end. I wailed and wailed like a banshee in search of a spirit mate, so out of control was I, so deeply pulled into my samurai’s exotic world of tea and taste that I had scant reason to hold on to my sanity.

I
couldn’t.
I let go. Cries of ecstasy flowed from me like the silky sounds of a Heian court lady’s long multicolored sleeves trailing gracefully behind her across a polished wooden floor until the last tremor faded. Exhausted, I lay back, my face shining with the sweat of my afterglow, my body giving off an aura of soft pink hues.

Afterward I slept in my samurai’s arms. ’Twas a deep sleep, but even so I sensed the movement of my lord’s hand stroking his erect cock. We both knew the time would come for his pleasure. And Akira’s.

For now, my samurai had been content to grant me mine.

On subsequent occasions of partaking in the tea ceremony, our conversations became quite lengthy before we three engaged in sex. One night I expressed my thoughts about the woodblock prints I had seen in Yoshiwara and how I didn’t understand then why the male organ was drawn so large until I had the opportunity to view
their
cocks, making them both smile. We formed a bond, we three from different paths, with Shintaro as the tea master, all his movements simple and natural, from dusting the edges of the fire pit with an eagle feather and dropping incense on the hot coals before boiling the water in the kettle. He showed us how to fold the square of purple silk and how to mix the powdered tea with the
bamboo whisk before he prepared the tea. These steps were all important for our sensual way of tea…and though I have promised you an impassioned encounter, I cannot forget what we discussed, including my life in London and the farm where I grew up. I dared not imagine what my blessed parents would think about me running off to a samurai village. I wondered if I’d ever see them again, but I feared returning to my husband more. I broached the subject of family to Shintaro and he explained how, as the son of a noble samurai, he was placed in a monastery to receive his education and forged a bond with an older monk upon his parents’ deaths. Akira told me how his parents, low-ranking samurai, had been forced to sell his sister, Simouyé, to a geisha house to send him to a select samurai school.

Simouyé.
The geisha I had seen in Yoshiwara was the younger sister of Akira. Now I understood the knowing glances between my samurai and the girl. She had been pleased when Lord Shintaro asked her brother to ride with him and learn the way of the warrior. Yes, dear lady reader,
Lord
Shintaro, as I have written on previous pages. Because of his strong beliefs not to let go of the old traditions, he had lost his lands in what was until recently known as——Province in a dispute with members of the council of the mikado’s government and his ancestral home raided by hired spies intent on assassinating him. Many had died in the attack, including women and children. Nami had also suffered at their hands, her body ravished, her soul taken from her when they murdered her child. A son. She had kept this horror from me to spare me unhappiness, as was the native way.

We drank the tea in silence.

I pray not to disturb your harmony in this chapter with a
somber tone, merely to relate to you a truthful remembrance of my life in the samurai village that was not without its sorrowful times. But it is the path I have chosen…and this next exquisite moment is but one reason why.

They slid the silkiness from my skin until I was nude, kissing me, putting their lips on me as I had shown them (daring yet amusing to these two samurai). Shintaro in front—my breasts, belly; Akira in back—the nape of my neck, my buttocks—both samurai slithering up and down my body like two gods in search of an earthly place to plant their seed. I struggled to catch my breath, moaning and sighing, so delirious was I leaning against Shintaro, his strong arms supporting me, holding me in his embrace as Akira licked the back of my legs up to the crack in my buttocks. Then Shintaro turned me around and the younger samurai spread my thighs and began tonguing me, licking my throbbing clit with such expertise I nearly fainted. I would have, had not Shintaro cupped my breasts and slowly rubbed his thumbs and forefingers over my taut nipples, giving rise to my begging him, begging Akira to insert their cocks in me. I shivered against Shintaro’s muscular body, and in a surprise gesture, he stroked my cheek with soft purple silk then wound it around my wrists and pulled my arms taut over my head, making me moan.