Getting the Brown Ball Rolling

After submitting a couple of stories from later in life, I feel better able to write about the girl who gave me my first scat experience. Her name was Ruriko.

It is still hard for me to see why it took us that long to get together. I was living in Tokyo, and one evening each week I met Ruriko after work near Azabu-juban and gave her an English lesson in a café, as thousands of other self-employed or income-supplementing teachers were also doing across the city. I had known Ruriko vaguely for years since meeting her when she had been studying abroad, and her English was fine, but she was feeling that her career had stalled and wanted to brush it up to improve her opportunities.

Ruriko was tiny: about five feet tall perhaps, but very pretty. She had hair cut relatively short then: a chin bob cut that she was letting grow a bit; she used to have a different fringe almost every week and I looked forward to guessing what style I would find on her. Her breasts were small, otherwise she would have been unstable; but she liked to wear gorgeous stretchy cardigans, and she often wore tight midi or knee-length skirts, pencil or pleated just slightly at the bottom, that showed the shape of her bum almost as clearly as if she had chosen to put nothing on at all.

After about three months — really! – of meeting every Wednesday, and exchanging occasional souvenir gifts when one of us had been away, as autumn passed the thought finally took shape in my slow head that she might like me enough to meet up outside a damned café. Perhaps, creaked my mind, she had been dressing nicely and taking care to touch up her makeup in between clocking off work and meeting me not merely because she liked to be well-turned-out in general. I knew she didn’t have a current boyfriend. So with nothing to lose — I wasn’t even charging her, as we were old friends — I asked her one day at the end of the lesson, before we packed up.

“Ne, Ruri-chan.” I was nervous; I’m not smooth at chat-up. “I see you every week here. I’d like to see you more often. Are you doing anything this weekend?”

She must have had pretty good self-control, because she managed not to show either a smile, which — fortunately — was her inner reaction; or the wide-eyed soulful, apologetic look of a genuine refusal, which she let me fear for a moment. She kept a poker face, and then said “Yes.”

Blast.

“But not next weekend,” and she leant quickly across the table and gave me a two-second smack on the lips. She was closer to the door than I was, and had stood up, shouldered her bag and left the café before I had finished blinking to check this was real. The smell of her lipstick kept me daydreaming all the way home.

This was in 1999: no smartphones. Ruriko and I had mobile phones, but personally I hardly used mine. I got a call from her on my landline, the next evening. After greetings she got down to it:

“Nigel, I’m really sorry I couldn’t say yes for this weekend. I’m going out with a couple of girls from work on Saturday, we arranged it ages ago.”

“It’s fine, next weekend is fine. I’m on holiday next week, so I’m not busy this weekend or next.”

“Oh? Aren’t you going anywhere?”

“I’m going on a train trip by myself for a few days at the beginning of the week, doing some hiking in Nagano. I was going to come back on Wednesday evening for our lesson.”

“Hmm.” There was a few seconds’ silence.

“Why, hmm?”

“Nigel…would you like to stay with me for a few nights?”

Glory, angels and trumpets. “Stay? Yes, I think I can just possibly manage that.” Ruriko lived on the other side of Tokyo from me. “Ruriko, it’ll be brilliant to be with you not just for an afternoon. But you, have you got holiday?”

“No. So I thought, why not cancel next week’s lesson, then meet me after work on Thursday, and stay at my flat until Sunday. Can you, I mean is that OK?”

“More than OK. I can’t wait.”

“OK. But also, are you…quite open-minded?”

That could be code for all kinds of things, I thought. I hoped Ruriko didn’t mean there would be other guys there, or that I was going to have to dress up as a superhero. “Um. I think so. Can I have a clue?”

“No. See you in a week, at the same place we usually meet. Bye.”

Ruriko made a loud kissing noise down the phone — another loud-kiss-to-end-the-conversation – and rang off. I was anxious about how open-minded I needed to be, and why. As it turned out, Ruriko pushed my limits very hard — harder than I might have guessed I could take, if I’d been asked to write down what I liked and what I didn’t. But you don’t know, sometimes, until you try.

The week passed incredibly slowly, considering it was holiday and I had an interesting trip to boot. I got out of the city on the Sunday evening, hiked for three solid days (leaving Ruriko a message one evening, I’m-at-a-hot-spring-inn-wish-you-were-here), and spent Thursday morning getting home. That evening I had shaved and smartened myself up, packed some clean clothes into a holdall, and was trying hard by five-fifteen to seem nonchalant as I loitered outside our usual spot.

Ruriko appeared, looking good as usual in a white sweater with tight vertical cables and a black skirt, bang on time, squeezed one of my hands in both of hers as a kind of hello and marched purposefully into the café without a word. Bemused, I waited three or four minutes, until she emerged through the door, and I only recognised her a second before she took my arm. She had kept the sweater on, but now had on a pair of circular-lens sunglasses and a soft grey peak-cap — very chic — and instead of the black, cute-but-decorous office skirt, was wearing a brown leather or faux leather hip-hugging miniskirt. She grinned. “You look smart” — that was generous, but I had a shirt rather than a T-shirt, slacks rather than jeans, and actual shoes — “so I’m glad I decided to dress up. Walk slowly with me.”

“No choice, have we, with that skirt? You look sensational, but I’d love to see you try to run.”

So we walked, hand in hand mostly. After a few hundred yards we were at a station. I looked at Ruriko to see how she felt about a staircase in that miniskirt, but everyone was going down — like us — not up; and she obviously had no problem. Ruriko bought a couple of bottles of tea in a convenience store, then we took a train, changed once, and ended up on the Marunouchi line.

“We’re going right to the end, to Honancho,” said Ruriko. “It’s not the closest station to my house but we can walk through a park on the way. Drink your tea,” she added. “Finish it.”

Until a couple of stops before the terminus, there were no seats. We stood, and Ruriko asked me about my hiking trip. “When I got your message from the hot spring,” she said, “I wished I was there too. I love hot springs. I’d like to go with you someday.”

“It was a good hotel,” I agreed, “and not busy. I don’t mind it if other men are there in the bath, I mean I don’t mind being naked and all that, but I never know what to say after ‘good evening’. Much nicer if it’s empty.”

“What about the trails?”

“Pretty empty too, most of the ones I went on.”

“That’s good. Privacy. You can pee if you need to and not worry about other people.”

That hadn’t really occurred to me as the main reason less-crowded hiking trails were nicer, but I nodded. For women it’s a more important concern, perhaps.

Eventually enough people had got off and we sat down next to each other. Straight away, Ruriko whispered to me: “Do you remember what I asked you last week, on the phone?”

“Yes. I haven’t really stopped thinking about it, wondering, you know.”

“Neither have I…Nigel, do you really like me? Will you definitely stay with me this weekend?”

I trusted her. “Yes. So, are you going to tell me?”

“You will stay? Whatever I do?”

“Yes. I love being with you, whatever.”

“All right then. Let’s get some more tea when we get off.”

“I’m full of tea.”

Ruriko pushed her sunglasses forward and looked at me over them, eye to eye. “Not full enough.”

At Honancho, I took Ruriko’s hand again as we went up the escalator and stairs. “Some guys behind us are getting a good view,” I remarked as we reached the top. “Ah,” replied Ruriko, “you will get a better one.” By now I thought I knew what Ruriko had in mind, and I was eager.

Round the corner from the exit, there was another convenience store. I had got the idea by now. “I’ll get it this time then,” I offered, and bought another two bottles. We drank as we walked along. When half of hers was gone, Ruriko put the bottle back in her handbag.

“I need to pee,” she said.

“How far is your house?” I didn’t think that was the point, but just in case.

“I don’t care…the park is another five minutes. I can make it. What about you?”

“I’m…OK, but I don’t really want any more tea.”

Ruriko’s expression mingled excitement, physical distress and some deeper vulnerability. She was now too uncomfortable, however, to worry too much about whether I was going to react how she hoped. “Finish. You have bigger, um, bladder.”

Yes, but I had the added discomfort of a semi-erection. Never mind. I finished my bottle, and by the time we reached Wadabori Park I was ready to go, but Ruriko was more than ready; she was bursting. She was hunching over, and clamping her thighs as much as she could while still taking steps — even in her tight skirt it was obvious, and very sexy. She was holding both hands over her crotch as we went. We walked into the park, and Ruriko headed straight for a copse of low trees thirty yards inside the entrance. The park was sparsely lit, and it was almost dark, but there was enough light from the streetlights by the entrance to see fairly clearly. It appeared deserted. Instead of going under the trees though, Ruriko sat on the edge of a low bench beside them, pulling her skirt right up to her waist and dropping her bag as she did so, fully exposing the white unadorned knickers she was wearing underneath, and beckoned me urgently to stand right in front of her.

“Nigel. Watch. Ohhh!”

She really had left it until the last second. She spread her legs and put one hand over her mound, and there was a loud hiss as she pissed through her panties, all over her legs and onto the grass. It lasted for more than half a minute, I swear, until the steady flow reduced to irregular spurts. As I watched, I noticed her hand was not still, and I thought she had another kind of relief coming to her, but she wasn’t there yet. As the flow stopped, she looked at me, took my hand, and held it onto the wettest part of her panties, just below where her other hand was pressing and rubbing. I pressed a bit too, and a final push from Ruriko’s muscles expelled a tablespoon of warmth into my palm.

It was the first time I had done this. I stood there, with a beautiful girl’s hot piss cupped in my hand. I couldn’t speak a word, nor look away from Ruriko, nor do anything but raise it to my mouth and drink it. Her mouth opened too, and I sank to my knees and kissed her. She can’t have got more than a taste, although she licked my tongue and my lips and my chin in an effort to get as much of it into her mouth as she could.

I couldn’t hold on long. She looked at me with a beatific grin on her face. “Ruriko, I have to go too. Oh, fuck!” I stood and scrabbled at my zip, managed to yank it down safely, and heaved my thickened, almost fully-hard cock out. It wasn’t how I’d imagined presenting it to Ruriko, but she obviously loved it: her eyes widened and she held it and kissed the head. “Go! On me!” she pleaded, still holding it and pointing it at her chest.

I couldn’t wait another second. The fantastic release of pissing came and I had the amazing sight of Ruriko enjoying the shower. She pointed my prick at her tits, and her sweater absorbed everything; she lowered it, with difficulty, and it added to the sopping mess on her crotch and thighs as well as going over the outside of her skirt; and then she lifted it up, looked at me to make sure I was watching and not closing my eyes in joy, and sprayed her own face before bringing her mouth right to where the stream was leaving my piss-hole, and swallowing the last cupful.

Or I thought she’d swallowed it all; I swear she swallowed at least four times. But she stood up and kissed me before I had my brain back — not that I would necessarily have hesitated, but I was just far too slow. I bent down instinctively to return the kiss, and suddenly we were sharing a mouthful of warm piss – my warm piss — and I was hugging her sopping body against mine. I could feel the wet surface of her rucked-up skirt against my cock, and her piss-soaked sweater against my chest. Without knowing exactly why, I picked her up and held her more tightly, with one arm under her bum and one around her back, and kissed her more passionately with my cock still swinging loose and her wet underwear exposed for any passer-by to see. I was in a daze; nothing made sense; my friend was my lover; fantasies were reality.

Fortunately there was no passer-by, as far as we noticed. We tidied ourselves up as best we could, picked up our bags and walked the remaining five minutes to Ruriko’s block hand in hand; it was coming on chilly but I was so high just with being close to her that the discomfort of damp clothes didn’t register at all. Inside, we stripped off, started the laundry, showered and changed. I loved seeing her body in the shower: she had very dark nipples on those small, beautiful tits, pointing slightly up at me; a thin thatch of jet-black curls between her legs; and two cute moles almost symmetrically placed on her shoulder blades that I kept wanting to kiss. Ruriko turned up the heating a notch afterwards, and we were comfortable in T-shirts and loose trousers. In fact she looked much better like that than in sunglasses and a chic outfit, in my opinion.

I helped wash and chop some vegetables under Ruriko’s instruction, and she cooked a soup and rice with eggs and fried veg in no time. It was almost like a date: we fed each other mouthfuls, played footsie under the table and gave each other bashful looks, but we didn’t talk about the park until we had nearly finished.

“Tanoshikatta? Did you enjoy that? In the park?”

“Guess.”

“I know you were pretty hard, but maybe you just needed to pee. Have you ever done that before?”

“Never. And I loved it, can’t wait to do it again. But, Ruriko. It’s hard to know exactly, because, I mean, I’m with you! I’m still getting used to the idea that you like me. I think you could do almost anything and I’d like it.”

“That’s good though…that means you are open-minded, don’t you see? Lots of people, they might like the other person, but then if the other person did that kind of thing, still be totally, like…nooo!”

“So I passed, then?”

Ruriko was silent for a second or two before replying, and she looked straight at me. She had a mixed-up expression again that I can’t describe well; she was obviously anxious, and embarrassed, but simultaneously determined. “I don’t know yet. Nigel…I haven’t finished showing you what I like.”

Several thoughts flashed through my head. First of all, this was going to be great because we were going to have sex somehow. But more exactly, what was Ruriko talking about? Was it scat, or some form of BDSM, or strange toys, or what?

Focus. The most important thing, probably, was to reassure her. I hadn’t tried any of those things much except using vibrators and dildoes with previous girlfriends, but I was determined that I would give Ruriko the chance to show me, whatever it turned out to be. I got up, walked round behind her chair and put my arms round her, and bent down. “So show me. Ruriko, don’t worry. I have a good feeling tonight. Whatever you like is going to be good.”

Ruriko held her hands over my arms and bent her head. It was obviously a bit easier for her if she didn’t look at me. “If you…change your mind…you’re still staying here. You promised.”

“Yes, I promised. I’m staying with you, Ruri-chan.”

She took a breath, and carried on, still talking into her hands, while I stroked her breasts underneath. “Come on then. This time you go first though. Just,” she turned her head slightly up, not enough to make eye contact, “do what I say, OK?”

I hugged her extra tightly for a moment, and said “OK.”

Ruriko led me back to the bathroom. “Strip off. Don’t sit, squat on the toilet.”

I knew what “this time you go first” had meant. I squatted on the seat, and Ruriko sank to her knees, kissed my cock, which was rapidly stiffening, and enveloped it as completely as she could. She sucked on it slowly, bringing her lips from halfway down my shaft up to the head, and down again, dribbling all over it and moving so gently that the softness of her mouth was more like a vagina.

“Do it for me now.” Ruriko brought her lips far enough off my cockhead that she could just speak, without losing contact, and then sucked right back down. Her hand slipped between my legs and under my balls, and I felt her fingertips at my arsehole. She pushed and rubbed, then quickly brought her fingers back, moistened them in her mouth and returned them, and pushed one finger inside me.

Her eyes lit up — I knew why — and she sucked harder. I abandoned my last inhibitions, although I was still nervous, and pushed. Ruriko’s head bobbed back and forth. I looked down, and saw her stroking the long turd that was swiftly descending, not obstructing it but smearing her hand with its passage. I felt my cock hardening and swelling with excitement, and my breathing sped up though I wasn’t close to coming. Ruriko knew. She knew that I was loving this, that she wasn’t going to have to suppress her kinks over the next three days, and that she had found someone she could share with.

“Watch me,” she said, coming up off my pole for air once more. I held her head between my hands and watched her, as she used her filthy right hand to smear shit down my cock, then to hold it steady as she licked. She licked up, down and around, sucking occasionally and showing me her tongue occasionally, until I was clean.

My heart was leaping and lurching, not through shock or nerves but because Ruriko’s willingness to do that, or rather the happiness I felt in her being able to do that to me without worrying about my reaction, was so shatteringly sexy. I stepped off, stood up, raised Ruriko to her feet and kissed her without thinking. Her mouth was bitterly rich and spicy but I didn’t flinch. I knew I would have the chance to taste her ultimate gift too and it would be even better; for now I just wanted to be close to her, to fuck her, to show her that I loved what she loved.

“Lean over there,” Ruriko said, still in mistress-mode; “I will clean you.” She kissed down my chest, biting gently as she went, then turned me, pushed me firmly against the basin so my arse stuck out, and pulled my cheeks open. I let her do it as she wanted, and it was fabulous. She licked all around my hole, poked her tongue inside, swirled it within me, gave a huge gulping swallow and did it all again, and again, with gradually less licking and more swirling and probing with her tongue every time.

When she had finished I faced her and saw that her hand was busy at her cunt: indeed it had been all the while she cleaned my shitty backside. That, and her impish face with her cute nose, big eyes and lips she kept licking brought my cock back to full stand in seconds. “Ruriko,” I said, almost gasping with desire for her, “I want to fuck you. Now.”

“Do it here. Nigel, I want you inside me…” Ruriko closed the toilet lid and bent over, resting her forearms on it and leaving her beautiful round arse staring up at me. I touched her pussy lips, just to make sure of her wetness, and finding she was leaking juice and to spare I pushed my thick cock into her in one heavy thump. As I built up a rhythm, Ruriko put her face onto her dirty right palm. With every thrust of my cock into her, she slid it over her face and tongue. I watched her, watched her cunt flexing around me, and enjoyed the sight of her dark-brown anal patch stretching as her perineum pulled up and down with our movement. Staring at it, I wanted to know, suddenly, what she was hiding. I wanted to see Ruriko’s shit forcing its way out of her tautly opened hole and to see it fall; to see her shit in a pair of panties and to see them overflow; to taste it as it emerged from her and to lick it off her skin; to hold her shit in my hands and…

I licked my middle finger and slid it carefully into her arsehole, seeking, while my cock pistoned in her cunt. “Ruri-chan!” I whispered. “I want it, I want you to shit!” Indeed, she was full: I could feel a turd right at her door, moving against my finger as my cock-thrusts squeezed the space inside her.

“Oh…fuck…don’t…move!” Ruriko gasped. “Ohhh…” I halted my movements inside her, and felt her muscles push powerfully and her shit come forth. It pushed my finger out, and I gazed on her anus as the turd splayed it open. “Oh my God, Ruriko. So amazing, so sexy, oh wow, it’s coming,” I gibbered, transfixed by the sight of her two holes stretched around two firm poles, one on its way out and one so engorged in such a tight pussy-grip that I felt it might never get out. I stopped moving, entranced, and Ruriko expelled a thick, dense, lightly-ridged, long lump; then another, shorter and smoother. They fell only a few centimetres, to where my waist was squashed up against her arse cheeks while her cunt held my cock as in a vice. She was trembling, and I had to keep going, had to. I picked up one turd, leaving the other to fall to the floor, and resumed fucking Ruriko’s sopping pussy. In and out, and she responded, pushing her butt back into me as I filled her; and I smeared the turd in my hand over her arse, heedless of bits getting on me and on her hips as I gripped her. As she felt herself getting covered in it, she began to let out a high, continuous wail, and her movements encouraged me to thrust faster, and I held her hips tight and fucked harder. Faster and faster I slid in and slid out of her tightness, louder and louder she wailed, and she came with a long, long “Aaaah!” that shuddered through her.

After a minute’s rest, we trooped into the shower and cleaned ourselves, as well as the floor, then towelled off, brushed our teeth and went to bed. Or rather: Ruriko had laid futons out for me next to hers, and we got under the kakebuton – the duvet thing – and cuddled.

Five minutes later, we had decided we were not that sleepy. My erection was back and pressing against Ruriko’s arse-crack as I held her, and she was not lying still but had one hand between her legs and the other squeezing one nipple. I pushed my cock down between her thighs; she opened her lips for me and I slid inside her once again.

“Nigel,” Ruriko said, “what do you think? About…it?”

“About…piss…pissing and shitting?”

“Yes. Did you like watching me walking when I needed to pee?”

“It made my cock hard, looking forward to seeing you let it go.”

“Did you like watching me pee in my pants on the bench?”

“I’d never thought about watching a girl do that. Now, it seems like it’ll be a waste if you ever pee without letting me see, and I want to see you do it naked, do it in your pants and in trousers, do it on me, do it on the street, do it everywhere!”

“Then I will.” Ruriko paused, reached back and coated her fingers in the juices covering my cock, then sucked them as she pushed herself harder against me. “Did you like peeing on me, and peeing in my mouth?”

“Yeah…I like that best because it was you, Ruri-chan. I think, to be honest, it’s pretty sexy to watch any girl…woman…peeing herself, but when I think about peeing on you, on your clothes, on your tits” — I leant over Ruriko, squeezed one breast lightly and fucked faster into her soft cunt — “on your pussy, or in your mouth, and seeing you swallow it; somehow it’s only you. I don’t want to do it to just anyone.”

I’m sure I meant it honestly at the time.

Ruriko tried to twist round to kiss me. I grabbed her leg, lifted it up and ducked under it so that we were in a kind of lopsided missionary. I kissed her, and she kissed me back with passion as I jerked more and more strongly in and out, bouncing her whole petite body off the shikibuton, the mattress. In between kisses, she asked, “And what about” — kiss — “when you shitted for me” — kiss — “and I licked your shit” — she gasped with pleasure before kissing my upper lip, sucking on it, and swirling her tongue inside it — “off your cock, and you watched…me…shit…”

Ruriko couldn’t get any more words out. She moaned, and held my hips as our fucking reached a feverish speed. I kissed her again, and gasped out, “I totally…loved it! Ruri-chan, I loved seeing you taste…my…shit, and seeing your shit come out and…covering your arse in it…and…fucking you while you…licked your shitty hand, oh God…coming!”

Ruriko’s moans had become a continuous shriek of orgasm, but it broke up as I pumped come-thrusts into her hard enough that she couldn’t draw steady breath. Eventually I stopped moving, plugging my cum in her twitching pussy, and leant my weight on my elbows. Her entire body was under mine and she looked physically fragile and feminine, but sexy and emotionally powerful. I’d never felt so much like a king since losing my virginity, and never experienced such a dirty-talking girl, full stop.

“I know,” I muttered after a while, as we lay and enjoyed the intimacy, “men shouldn’t say thank you. But this is different. You’ve made me a completely new person in one evening. Arigatai yo, honto.”

Ruriko pinched my arm playfully. “Don’t ever say it again then! Punishment. Kirei ni shinasai yo, clean me.”

She pushed me down between her legs. I sucked my cum dutifully out of her cunt, swallowed it, and snuggled up to her. This time, we were asleep in minutes.

Ruriko’s radio-station alarm woke us. There wasn’t time to play; I made tea and toast while she got dressed and ready for work. I was thinking of accompanying her to her local station — not Honancho; a closer one — but Ruriko demurred. She gave me a wet tongue kiss in the doorway, let me stroke her chest, and whispered, “See you later. Don’t shit today. Leave me messages, OK?”

Back then, messages meant voicemail. I spent a lazy day browsing some of the vintage clothes shops in the suburbs not far from Ruriko’s place, and left her three voicemails: one telling her that I was imagining her pissing her panties on the way to the toilet at work and having to spend the rest of the day commando; one recording the sound of me pissing against a bush in another park; and the last simply letting her know that I felt heavy down below. Then I went shopping for beef and one or two other ingredients that Ruriko had asked me to get, and went back to her flat.

Around six, she came home, and kissed me and fondled my crotch in the entrance-way before taking off her shoes and coming up into the house. She changed out of her work clothes, and came to help me finish preparing the sukiyaki. When it was ready to go, we put down the knives and Ruriko pulled me to her. “Now,” she asked, her hands kneading my arse cheeks, “you have something for me? I want…”

One of her hands tracked down, pushing through my trousers into my crack, and the other moved up to her breasts. She pinched and squeezed them, and I pressed her whole body into me in the hug for a minute before seeing what she wanted to do this time.

“Come on then, darling. Let me give it to you. How do you want me?” We walked through to the bathroom again, and Ruriko slipped out of her dress and faced me. That was all she had been wearing. She cupped her breasts in her hands.

“These…” her palms bounced the small globes gently and her fingers stroked down, over her nipples and around; “do it here.” She lay down on her back, and I stepped over her, looking down at her face; but before I crouched she put her hands on my legs and pushed, to turn me. “I want to see it better. Please? Let me see it.”

I was ready to go. I turned to face her feet, crouched and relaxed, and piss hosed out of me over her belly and neat pubic bush. Ruriko put her hands on my arse and spread it. As I felt movement, she began talking to herself quietly: “Ohh, so thick…iyaa…sexy…kehh…”

I finished, hearing a faint slap as it fell onto her body, and felt her let go of my cheeks. One of her fingers stroked just once down over my hole, and I turned round to see her smearing my turd — it was thick indeed, but not too hard — from the middle of her chest outward over those firm tits. She looked at me — it was strange, neither of us was especially turned on at the moment, but we were just as fascinated and compelled, rather than repulsed, by the filthiness and taboo. Without a word, I knew we would both be replaying the scene in our minds within a few hours, and probably also days and weeks later — in fact I can visualise it pretty clearly now nearly twenty years later, including the devilishness of Ruriko’s smile and the feeling of overpowering desire for her, for rolling scat play into sex with her.

We took a shower, put casual clothes back on, and put the broth, vegetables and tofu into the sukiyaki pot and switched it on. We took longer over dinner this time, chatting about the shops I’d been to and a couple of her colleagues that she’d once introduced me to, knowing that neither of us had to be awake early in the morning. Afterwards, we sat on her sofa and watched some TV, without paying it much attention. She lay back sideways with her head on the armrest and stretched her legs across mine, and I stroked up and down them. With each pass, I let my fingertips reach a little further, until I was brushing up against the curls of her coal-black bush. Ruriko gave a murmur of appreciation, but nothing more; I took hold of her thighs and pulled her along the sofa on her bottom at the same time as pushing her knees back onto her chest, and her dress fell open, exposing her. I stroked again, starting at her calves, past her knees on the outside, moving inwards as I trailed my fingertips along her thighs, and now getting right up to her plump, dark labia before turning round and stroking back down. Then again, to the same spot, and back. Then again, and along the labia, down to her round, wine-dark anus, and back.

We remarked on the TV programme, pretending that Ruriko’s pussy was not getting wet and that I was not getting hard. I stroked harder, and left her legs alone in favour of stroking just on and around her pussy lips, perineum and arsehole. I could hardly reach her clit or pubic mound, as her thighs were together, but I pressed harder at the top of her pussy. Her lips became gradually firmer, and the inner labia grew wetter with her juices as I rubbed and stroked more, working a finger into her vagina, then a second; then back to one and the other into her arse. But after thirty seconds of this Ruriko said, “Stop…too good…don’t want to come yet.”

I stopped fingering her, and gently withdrew. I raised both fingers, wet and shiny with Ruriko’s pussy and arse goo, slowly to my mouth, holding her gaze; but then instead of sucking them myself I gave them a quick kiss and leant over to put them right into her mouth. She sucked and sucked until I couldn’t bear having passed up the taste of her, and I pushed her dress all the way up to her waist so that I could spread her legs, lean all the way over and kiss her. My tongue found the taste of her excited pussy, on her tongue and on her lips, and I felt her nipples hard against my chest. I began to play with them, but Ruriko broke the kiss and held my forearms.

“I need to go…come with me.”

We rolled off the sofa, and Ruriko stripped me naked. I made to do the same for her, but she shook her head and so we went to the bathroom with her still in her dress. She lifted the seat, but instead of sitting down, turned me to sit there.

“I don’t,” I began, confused — she could hardly have been thinking I’d need to go again; her finger to her lips shut me up. She sat down on my lap facing me, so her pussy was just two inches from my cock, lifted her dress up above her tits with both hands, and began to piss. Most of it showered my cock, warm and intimate; occasionally a stray spurt hit my legs; as she finished it trickled straight down. I caught the last few drops and brought my fingers to my mouth exactly as I had done earlier when they were sticky with her other liquid, then stopped and moved them to her mouth — then reversed and sucked them myself. “Heyyy!” Ruriko complained, but I sucked off every last drop of her piss before letting her kiss me to taste it herself. She kissed me repeatedly, smacking her lips on mine while tracing her fingers on my chest, touching my nipples and pinching gently; then put her hands on my thighs, got up and whispered, “Don’t move.” She paused, and added, grinning, “I will clean you.”

She pushed my legs together so that there was almost no gap between them and my cock and balls were held slightly uncomfortably, sat down on my thighs but facing away from me this time, leant forward and said, “Watch.” Her arsehole came into view just above my crotch, and I reached round under her arms on both sides, played with her breasts, and watched her arse. After only a few seconds it twitched and popped open, and Ruriko pushed out a long oak-dark shit log that landed and folded over right on top of my cock. It was so erotic that I could think of nothing but Ruriko: I wanted to kiss her, kiss the log, fuck her, hold her to me, do simply everything with her. I pulled harder on her tits and said, “More, have you got any more? Cover my cock in your shit, Ruri-chan, cover me.”

She tried, but only a baby-carrot of shit came out to land on top of the first log and my cock, stiffening again. Even that, emerging through her open ring of dark muscle, sent another pulse of lust through me, and I wiped two fingers over her hole because I could not stand not to have some of her taste in my mouth. As I licked her shit off my fingers, Ruriko got down, knelt beside me, took my cock in one hand and scooped up her excrement with the other. In her hand, I throbbed and hardened and grew; she stared at me, and I said again, “Cover me.”

She pressed the shit against my cock, and it squashed. The warmth and softness of her filth was sensually extreme, and feeling it on one side only was immediately inadequate. “Get it all over. Get your shit all over my cock, make it a shitcock before you clean it, oh fuck, so sexy…” I was too close to coming, and I had to shut up; I knew Ruriko wouldn’t want that yet. She painted and smeared until I hardly had a recognisable cock, rather a large brown dildo, and then said:

“Now what shall I do?”

It was a different animal from the previous evening. That had been a single smear, though thick. This was at least two-thirds of a whole turd and I could feel its pressure weighing on my erection like getting hard while still in underwear. But the answer was obvious, nevertheless: “Clean me, like you said. Clean this filthy shitty cock you’ve made.”

Ruriko bent her head, put out her tongue, and slowly touched it to the base of my shaft. She licked a little, and a little more, and then dragged her tongue firmly all the way up to the head. I let out a sigh of pleasure, and she took the whole head into her mouth, and sucked briefly. She licked around the corona, and sucked again; licked quickly from the base up the shaft to the head, and sucked again. She kept this up, alternating licking me clean with sucking the top, until I was close to clean and close to coming, then pulled a few centimetres off, tilted her face up and opened her mouth so I could see in. It was brown: properly brown. Her lips were brown; her tongue was brown except at the very edges; there was a pool of brown saliva at its base. I moaned.

Ruriko caught my eye, and swallowed, and put her mouth back on me. She knew I was close; she sucked faster, and reached up with one hand to pinch my nipple again, until jets of my cum shot into her dirty mouth. Spurt after spurt went in, and Ruriko kept her mouth over my glans until I was still. I didn’t have the energy to ask her to show me her mouth again, but I didn’t have to; she straightened her back so her face was only just below mine, opened wide so I had a close up view of a white puddle edged with khaki, swallowed and opened again.

“Remember that,” she said.

I didn’t think I’d ever forget, but that wasn’t her point. We showered (yet again) and Ruriko cleaned her teeth for about a quarter of an hour, then we went to bed, and she started asking questions.

“Nigel, tell me what it felt like when you watched me touch my breasts with your shit.”

I felt no need to dirty-talk myself to another come after exploding so well just earlier, but I got the idea after two nights running: Ruriko loved me describing what she’d been doing and bringing herself to climax by talking and running replays in her mind. I saw that she had her hand between her legs and was moving it slowly.

“It hypnotised me. The strength of it, the way it just shouldn’t be there but once it’s there it draws you to it. Seeing you touching your tits, rubbing your nipples” – I began to rub them, as I spoke — “but making them dirty as you did it, it was so sexy because it’s something you could never do in front of other people, but you did it with me. I was thinking about it just now, before I came.”

“It was such a sexy feeling…the stickiness on my breasts, so good…tell me about tasting my pee, why didn’t you give me any…”

“Obviously, because your pee is too delicious; I couldn’t help it, it was so hot on my cock, so erotic to have you on my lap like that as though you were dressed to go out somewhere…we should do that outdoors, come out without pants under your dress or skirt and sit on my lap somewhere, and pee on me…I just had to taste it and drink it. I love your piss-taste. Umami, salt, the tiniest bit bitter, I could drink a glassful.”

“I can pee in a glass for you…as well as pee on your lap outdoors, somewhere public; oh!” Ruriko’s hand was moving faster now. It wasn’t an accident that she had introduced me to all this in a public park, even if it had been empty as far as we could tell; she had definitely just boosted her arousal with the word ‘public’. “And when I’ve finished…use your hand…”

“…yes…between your legs, I’ll get the last drops of your piss on my hand, and my fingers, and then…”

“…I’m going to suck them.”

“And kiss me. I’ll taste your piss on your tongue and in your mouth,” I said, assuming this would help Ruriko continue to get off but also from a literal unwillingness for her to get away with pissing on me and not letting me taste it.

“Mmm…and tell me…about what I did after I peed on you…”

Ruriko took hold of my cock with her free hand and rubbed her pussy harder; she was close. One phrase, I guessed, would do it.

“It was about the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. You bent forward so your arsehole was pointing right at me, I could see it easily. It opened out and I saw your shit inside…and it came out onto my cock…and I wiped my fingers over your hole and got a little bit on them, and I sucked your shit, and it was so…wrong…sexy…and you covered my cock in it, so warm and filthy and I told you to clean me…”

“…yes…you told me to clean your cock, and I did it…”

“…you licked your shit off my cock. You licked your shit and sucked your shit and ate your shit. I saw it in your mouth…”

“Ohhh…ohhh…”

I kissed Ruriko vigorously and put my hand on top of hers as she gripped my penis like a stress-relief ball. “Yeah, Ruri-chan…you ate it…and you sucked me more,” kiss, kiss, “and I came in your mouth,” kiss, kiss, “and you showed me your mouth, and you…swallowed…your…shit…and…my…cum!”

Ruriko bucked and shouted, and squeezed me so hard I thought my cock would take up the shape of a cotton reel permanently. I held her as she rode her hand, relaxed her grip eventually, and breathed in a slower rhythm, until we drifted off.

I woke to a pair of feet against my chest: Ruriko had obviously turned round during the night. I couldn’t see a clock and didn’t want to wake her if it was still early, so I planted a kiss on one toe, stroked her calf, and dozed. Fifteen minutes or an hour and a half later, who knows, I woke again and felt definitely more refreshed; the daylight seemed to say it was well past dawn. I assumed so, and took Ruriko’s whole big toe into my mouth and sucked, holding her ankle. I kept it all in, sucked all the way from its base up to the nail, and licked down between it and the second toe.

Ruriko rolled a bit, and I felt the warmth of her vulva and the brush of her pubic hair on my upper thigh as she lifted herself on top of me, still lying down; we would have a slow cuddly awakening. I sucked more, kissed along the arch to her heel and back again, and began to trace a line with my finger up from her calf, past the side of her knee, along her thigh and to her arse cheek, then in reverse. Very slowly, her mound slid back-and-forth, and I wondered idly whether her pleasure would be greater if I had been cycling more or worked my quads harder over the last six months. I increased the pressure of my finger as I moved it up and down her leg, and passed closer into her crack each time. Perhaps ten or a dozen times I brushed just as far in as where her panties would cover, and then half a dozen sweeps back up and down the leg and reaching her fat outer lips, until finally I reached inside them.

She was open and absolutely sopping. The feel of her was wonderful, as though she had had a nice thick cock screwing within her for the last half-an-hour. I could have collected a small pool of juice in a cupped hand held under her cunt, if I had wanted — but I wanted to fuck her. I slid my body out from underneath her, and as I swiftly grew hard Ruriko knelt up, reached behind her and guided me in. We should have done doggy earlier: Ruriko was so short that her pussy was a good bit lower than my cock, so I couldn’t help thrusting downwards, and her clit was getting all the benefit. Within a minute, she was slamming her arse into me and hitting a shuddering climax, before I had even got round to fingering her shithole. I lasted just another couple of minutes, wet one finger with her juice and jammed it into her arse, felt my cock rubbing against it through the walls and emptied my come into her.

We collapsed, and I stayed inside her, spooning softly. Usually, after coming, the only message the brain can handle is ‘rest’, but today I had a sense of adventure. Ruriko and I had a whole day to look forward to, and I didn’t think she had finished showing me tricks. I remembered vaguely talking about drinking her pee from a glass; maybe that could happen today? Or maybe through a straw, or from my hands?

“Nigel. Are you awake?”

I thought that was a bit harsh; I wasn’t fully erect any more but I’m not small at all. Then I realised that without meaning to, I’d completely stopped moving inside her.

“Mm. Just about. Did you sleep well?

“Very well. And that was the best waking up. I’m so glad you came to stay.”

“Me too.”

“I haven’t done all of these things before, you know?”

I had no idea. “Really? It seems like you know what you like…”

“No, it’s different. I had…I just had one boyfriend once who was a bit into this stuff, but just a bit. When we started doing it, I loved it, but he didn’t want to go very far…is it OK?”

“You can talk about him, it’s fine. You’re in my arms; I’m not insecure.”

I couldn’t see Ruriko smile, but she snuggled backwards into my embrace. “So…he wanted me to pee on him, so I did that, and I liked it, and he peed on me as well. We both liked all that pee play. Then once he had his finger in my bum, and he took it out and I was looking at him, and I saw from his face that it was dirty, and he was afraid I wouldn’t like it, but I made him touch my breasts with it. That was sexy too, and we sometimes did that again, but once I licked his finger when it was dirty and he just stopped playing, he wouldn’t kiss me, he never wanted me to do that. And once I put my own finger in there and got it dirty and then I touched myself…you know…my pussy, and he didn’t want to put his cock in me then.”

She took a breath. “So…I knew I liked it, and after we broke up I just kind of played with myself sometimes. I’ve never done the things you let me do, but I love it.”

“Me too, so far. I don’t know about other things; haven’t really thought about anything else particular, yet. I bet you’ve got some fantasies, haven’t you?”

“We’ve done some of them…especially seeing you shit onto my breasts, I always wanted that. Do that again for me. Some other things, maybe later…” She paused. “I think…I mean, this is…so lucky that we found each other. I feel we should see how far we can go, right?”

Ruriko suddenly scooted down under the covers, pushed my legs back and kissed my arsehole for three or four seconds, then sat up. The kakebuton dropped off her and I enjoyed the sight of her nude body as she stretched, got up and picked some clothes out from her wardrobe. She chose a cotton skirt, decorously past her knees, and not tight enough to show that she had elected not to bother with knickers. When she was dressed, she kicked me. “Get up! Come out for brunch, there’s a good place not too far.”

I got up, and we shared a pot of tea before heading out. It depends maybe how you define brunch, but we had a decent slow meal of savoury and sweet pastries with fruit juices and coffees. Ruriko was wearing a lower-cut top than I had seen her in ever before, not quite plunging but definitely eye-catching, despite her small breasts, and my gaze kept rising and falling from her face to its contours as it swept over her skin where they began to swell, and back again. We chatted about work, the seasons and this area where she lived for an hour or more, before coming to an unspoken agreement that it was time to leave.

“Nice day to walk,” I said.

“It would be a pity to have to go home and change,” Ruriko agreed.

“But I’ve drunk quite a lot now,” I observed.

“So have I. And I want some more to drink.”

“Yes.” We were on the same page. I looked around. “There isn’t really anywhere, anywhere obvious, that I can see.” The cafe was on a busy road with far too much foot traffic for us simply to duck into a doorway. There was another small-looking park diagonally opposite, but that too was too full of people for Ruriko and me to enjoy ourselves as we wanted to. As I looked up and down the street however, I saw smaller streets heading off it and something reminded me of my own neighbourhood, and my own block of flats, with no kind of lock on the ground-floor entrance. “I know. Let’s go.”

We paid and I led Ruriko round the first corner, into a narrow, likely-looking street with only a couple of people walking. No shops or businesses for at least fifty metres. The first residential block on each side had an electronic keypad by the door, and my heart sank a little, but the second on the left did not. I tightened my grip on her hand.

We opened the glass door and found a reasonably clean lobby area with letterboxes. There was no lift — any residents would have to come up or down the stairs. I looked at Ruriko. “Come up a couple of floors.” It was a four-storey block; we went up to the third storey and stopped. From the main landing, the stair went up three more steps then turned ninety degrees. Ruriko nodded at me, walked up to that wide third stair, glanced upstairs, then turned and lifted her skirt.

“Hayaku!” Quickly!

Three steps above me, Ruriko’s crotch was only at about my navel; when I crouched my mouth was right there. Behind her was a window through which I could see people in flats across the street. A corridor led off from the space behind me to four individual doorways: if anyone came out to leave the building they would see us within five seconds or so of opening their door.

Ruriko lifted her skirt, put a hand to her pussy and opened its inner lips. I kissed her there, licked once quickly, and made sure her piss-hole was aiming straight into my mouth; the flow came. This time it was less powerful, but still to avoid getting it on my clothes or the floor I had to swallow frequently. Ruriko had had just tea, fruit juice and water so far that day; her urine was mild, barely any stronger-tasting than the liquid seeping from her pussy below. I drank and drank, feeling my own need to pee increasing, and suddenly we heard a door unlatch.

Sounds bounce around in stairwells and concrete corridors like those, and the sounds of Ruriko’s pee plunging into the pool in my mouth and my own swallows left me no hope of identifying which floor it had come from. I kept drinking. Ruriko had tensed but she didn’t, or couldn’t, stop. Her delicious flow gurgled down my throat, and footsteps came, but Ruriko relaxed and looked down through the stairwell so I knew the door had been on the floor below. Finally the cascade weakened to intermittent spurts, then stopped, and she stepped back. I stood up, thrust a hand between her legs and squeezed her while bringing my mouth next to her ear and swallowing one last time, loudly.

“None left for you, ha-ha,” I crowed jocularly.

“Shut up or you can go in your pants.” That did shut me up. “That wasn’t exactly how we were going to do it,” Ruriko said, “but it was good. So exciting! When that woman came out, if she had been on this floor…”

“Oh, was it a woman?” I hadn’t been able to see, since my face was tilted upwards. I fingered Ruriko gently. “Yes, on this floor…she would have seen exactly what you were doing…”

“And what you were doing!”

“I was just helping a lady in distress, that was all. Or at least, in discomfort.”

Ruriko looked at me.

“Well,” I withdrew my fingers from her wetness, “maybe getting a tasty drink at the same time. Look, there’s some left after all.” I gave Ruriko two fingers to suck, and she closed her eyes and tasted her own cunt-juice and piss that were mixed on them. She looked very relaxed now, but I was becoming less so; I wanted her mouth as a toilet too, and soon. “Stay here?” I asked.

“No.” Ruriko shook her head decisively, and sped off downstairs. I followed. To my disbelief, she turned back to the main road and found a convenience store, left me outside and reappeared a minute later with a half-litre bottle of water.

“You are joking.” I remembered Thursday evening very well, and didn’t feel like repeating that level of desperation, amazing though the relief had been – especially in daylight.

Ruriko looked at me with a carefully neutral expression, and then smiled a slow, sexy, superior smile. “Yes, I am,” she said, and unscrewed the cap and poured most of it into the gutter, drinking just a mouthful at the end. “Here,” she added, and passed the empty bottle to me.

This was more like it. “OK then,” I said, taking the bottle and turning to walk back towards the side street. Ruriko grabbed my elbow and stopped me.

“Here.”

I boggled. We were standing outside a shop, on a pavement with someone walking past us about every fifteen seconds. Not Shibuya crossing, but not exactly a shady corner or nook either. But Ruriko, obviously, had thought all this out before I had finished swallowing the last mouthful of her piss, and I was getting more and more excited as well as more and more uncomfortable.

“How?”

She put one arm round me, as though she was just dozing on my chest in a silent hug, and fiddled with my zip with her other hand, shielding it as far as possible with her small body. I helped her get my cock out, fearful that she would never do it in time, held my glans to the bottle opening and let rip. It filled up about three-quarters of the way, and I blessed Ruriko for buying a half-litre bottle rather than a standard size.

“So warm!” she breathed gleefully, as my last drops went in. She was holding the bottle against her waist, and the body-temperature feeling must have been very different from the cold water that had been in the bottle until a minute ago. She capped the bottle, standing close still while I tidied myself away, then put her arm through mine and began walking. I kissed the top of her head as we walked, and Ruriko put the bottle in her handbag.

We came to a bus stop, and out of nowhere Ruriko asked, “Want to see a film?”

“Sure.”

We caught a bus to Shinjuku and sat through a forgettable romcom — I mean, I really have forgotten it. All I remember is sitting with Ruriko in a reasonably comfortable cinema, with a box of popcorn and a drink each — at least, I had a paper cup of something; Ruriko’s smuggled-in drink was now only half full. On the short bus ride she had drunk steadily, and I had enjoyed wondering whether any of our fellow passengers had noticed that the colour of the drink — which wasn’t exactly right for tea or juice anyway — didn’t match what the label indicated it ought to be. It was exciting, to sit with her, chatting, with people all around us, while she took polite little swallows of piss.

In the cinema, of course nobody could have a clue about that, but I enjoyed myself nevertheless as we played lightly with each other; her hand down the front of my trousers and mine sometimes up under her blouse and sometimes between her legs. As the touch of her fingers stiffened me, temptation drove me to whisper, “Ruri-chan, do you want something else to drink?”

I saw a conspiratorial-looking grin in the near-darkness; she leant over slowly and whispered back, “No!” squeezed my cock and giggled. “But when we get home I might want something to eat…”

The combination of her hand in my pants and the promise of filthy fun later on nearly sent me over the edge. I sat straight, cleared my throat and tried to get interested in the rest of the film. It wasn’t easy. Ruriko realised just how turned-on I was, and that I’d decided if she wasn’t going to suck me then I wouldn’t play. She enjoyed herself throughout the rest of the showing by lifting her skirt, stroking my bulging crotch, playing with herself, kissing me, massaging her breasts and whispering to me — sweet phrases like, “Will you do it right in my mouth?” or “How much do you think I can eat?”

I won. By the end of the film Ruriko had made herself come twice, but I had held back heroically. We took a packed Keio-line train back to her flat, and as soon as she unlocked her door our hands were all over each other. Her pussy was sticky with girl-cum; I got as much of it on my fingers as I could and sucked them dry. We opened a bottle of wine — I think even Ruriko needed to be tipsy for what she wanted to do — and we drank, slouching naked on her sofa, in between her licking my sweaty crotch, my balls and my impatient cock. What had she meant by “see how far we can go”?

After a couple of glasses each, I looked away from where Ruriko was tonguing down towards my hole and announced quietly, “I think I need to go to the toilet,” pushing myself up. Ruriko let me stand, but looked at me and shook her head.

“Here.”

“Okay. In that case…hmm…you hold this.” I picked up her wine glass and drank the last mouthful, then gave it to her. As she held it in place, I relaxed and she watched the glass fill two-thirds with my piss. “I seem to be getting used to this,” I said; “I’ll forget how to use a toilet at this rate.”

“Maybe you don’t need to.” Ruriko took just one sip, then put the glass down and stretched out fully on the sofa. “Face the other way…”

The armrests were not too wide, so I could get my arse over her face by bending my knees just a little. I felt Ruriko’s hands on the underside of my thighs, and her tongue back on my perineum where it had been before her aperitif. She licked along it once or twice and then settled her tongue into my arsehole, poking and twisting.

I pushed, and it opened. “Oh god!” Ruriko exclaimed. One hand held my thigh up — I had been lowering myself down, unconsciously — and the other moved between her legs, sliding along her sticky cleft, as she opened her mouth around the bratwurst-thick log I was giving her. Pinching it off after several inches, I stood up and turned round. The turd had been just too long for the part sticking out of Ruriko’s mouth to stay upright: it had broken and fallen onto her chin then onto the floor. Heedless of it, Ruriko had her eyes almost closed and was chewing slowly.

I stared. It was hypnotic: sensual and appalling. The sound, the breathing, the jaw movements; with that sticky, indigestible mess in her mouth they were all wrong, different and laboured. I remembered Ruriko had said she liked my shit on her breasts. I squatted again and slid my dirty hole over her chest, then turned and picked up the broken piece. As she masticated and masturbated, I smeared the rest over her tits, squeezing them and rolling shit over her nipples. She chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, and I stroked my cock just for her to watch. Her hand stopped sliding and pressed down on her clit, pushing in a juddering vibration. I smeared more, knelt down and bit gently on her dirty tit. When she gave one large final gulp and took a big breath of air, her hand moved faster; I pinched both nipples and told her how fucking sexy she was until her legs clamped together on her hand. Her climax rocked through her; she knocked my hands away from her suddenly super-sensitive breasts and lay there enjoying every last tremor and pulse of the orgasm.

Finally she coughed, glared at the bottle of wine and fetched a large glass of water from the kitchen. After a couple of glasses, she padded over to me and hugged me with her head down against my chest, saying nothing.

We ate dinner out later that evening. We hardly spoke; both, I think, lost at first in thoughts of how extreme it had been. I could think of almost nothing to say except ‘I love you,’ and even that felt inappropriate. I was about to say it anyway, but as I looked at Ruriko across the table something caught in me and I couldn’t say it. Something was different from how we had been with each other at the beginning of the weekend. In her eyes I saw understanding, and a love as between lifelong friends; not the passion that there should be between two twenty-somethings and that we had seemed to share only days before. Ruriko watched my expression.

“I know,” she said.

I shook my head in disbelief, but it was undeniable. We had created something imperishable between us, but we had also destroyed something. We had moved too fast; and the coming morning, Sunday, was going to be the last time for us, whatever happened.

“Tomorrow,” I said eventually.

Ruriko nodded once. “Come home.”

We left the restaurant, walked home, and had sex with almost no words, nothing but vaginal, but a dozen different positions, until we fell asleep. I hardly touched Ruriko’s anus except for a little tickle — she had not used it all day.

I woke up late on Sunday and Ruriko was already preparing breakfast for us. I felt a bit more cheerful. Sitting down with her, I asked, “What’s on the menu today, then?”

Ruriko gave a small grin. “I guess…we make a few more memories! You’ve got to go, right?”

“Yeah. Around lunchtime, I suppose.” In fact I could have stuck around until the evening; but, incredible as it would have seemed to me a few days before, the next move for us was obviously going to be to file this weekend away and deal with it…separately.

“Nigel, so soon…” Ruriko pouted in mock distress.

“Come here then.” I turned my chair away from the table and held out my arms, and Ruriko jumped onto my lap. She kissed me, and I kissed back with a suddenly-awakening passion: this was my cute and taboo-bustingly sexy girl for another couple of hours, and the recognition that we were not going to be a couple, which had dampened our spirits the night before, now seemed to be lighting a fire. I was going to spoil her so that she would look at no other men for at least a while, so that no one else would give her the filthiness she would remember from me, so that she would call my name as she came with her fingers inside her…and spoil myself similarly. I stood up and tore my clothes off. Ruriko bit at my chest as I dug my fingers into her buttocks and held her to me, and sucked my nipples hard. I slid one hand up between us under her T-shirt, found her breasts free, and squeezed and twisted them; Ruriko threw her head back and gasped.