We_Always_Do_It_For_Real.03

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL
BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS

PART 03

I sat down in some confusion. He sat beside me and 
examined my left breast, or perhaps just the 
name-badge in the same area. I opened the shoulder-bag 
I had collected from my locker and got out a 
businesslike note-pad and pen. I crossed my legs to 
rest the pad on my knee, and then realised that in my 
confusion I hadn't pulled my floppy skirt down over my 
upper thighs. I decided to let it stay where it was: 
it probably looked provocative, but pulling it down 
now would be too coy. Anyway, I remembered after a 
moment's thought, I _was_ wearing panties. 

"Mr Williams, please tell me what you wish to study at 
our company," I said carefully. 

"Megumi-san, my name is Bob," he replied in a kind of 
Japanese, "and I would like to study you," he added in 
English, as a sort of joke I suppose. 

I decided not to understand that. 

"Please tell me your objectives so that I may plan 
your tour to your satisfaction." 

So in a mixture of Japanese and English, he told me. 
He said he had lived in Tokyo for three years, first 
as a correspondent of a Western newspaper, and then as 
a free-lance writer. He said he had been commissioned 
to do a series of articles for an American magazine on 
the Japanese sex industry and wanted to see round a 
typical blue film studio. (Well, he actually said 
"pink film" because he knew that's what they're called 
in Japanese.) Then with a bit of embarrassment - I 
still haven't learnt the Western rules of what is 
embarrassing and what isn't - he told me that to earn 
extra money he had started a series of pornographic 
stories and novels. They were set in Japan because 
Western publishers and readers were fascinated by 
Japanese girls' sex lives. There was quite a demand 
for that sort of material and he was beginning to be 
known as a writer of it. He thought it would give him 
ideas for plots if he could see our work here. It 
sounded reasonable enough to me and I couldn't see why 
he was embarrassed about telling me. 

I decided to take him on the full tour of the 
facilities. I would have done that anyway, but 
visitors like it if the guide asks about their special 
interests and seems to adjust the tour accordingly. In 
fact they only ever have one special interest, which 
is to be on the set when a fuck video is being made. 

We stood up and started on our tour. Mr Williams 
remarked on the warmth of the building and asked if he 
could leave his jacket somewhere. Rather than leave it 
in the reception area, which we were expected to keep 
neat and tidy, I took him downstairs and let him hang 
it in my locker: underneath he had just a casual shirt 
above his jeans. He insisted on my going into the 
elevator ahead of him, and took me by the upper arm to 
make sure I did. I liked that. As soon as I 
conveniently could as we walked together down the 
corridor, I had some trouble with the heel of a shoe 
and had to borrow his shoulder to lean on innocently 
while I fixed it. As I hopped on one foot he put his 
arm round me to steady me, his fingers caressing my 
bare back and taking advantage of the way the dress 
was cut very low on my waist. I liked that too, a lot, 
and gave him a special smile of thanks - a mixture of 
shyness and encouragement. I began to feel glad that I 
had come into work specially on my free day: the 
afternoon was getting off to a promising start. As we 
walked together I was a little closer to him than I 
would normally be with a stranger. My skin was still 
tingling from his touch, and I very much wanted him to 
touch me again. 

We usually start the tour with the technical 
departments. Many visitors find them interesting, and 
it's better to let the tour climax with the visit to 
the action in the film studios. I took my guest to the 
editing department and the staff showed him the 
sophisticated computer equipment which allows 
videotape to be joined without any jump. Then we went 
to the costume department, which is one of my 
favourite places because I am so fond of sexy clothes. 
I am always there when I have nothing else to do, 
looking through the stock and trying on shoes and 
dresses designed to make a girl look pretty and 
desirable. Of course I introduced him to dear 
Matsumoto-san who has mothered me ever since I started 
in the company - but I'll tell you later all about her 
and what she did for me. 

Then I thought it was time to show Mr Williams how our 
videos are actually made. In Studio One Noriko, a girl 
who had joined the company about a year before I did, 
was preparing to fuck three men at once. She was on 
hands and knees, one erect cock already conveniently 
by her mouth, but the man supposed to be in her pussy 
was having trouble sorting his legs out from those of 
the man already firmly plugged into her arse. The 
Director was clearly losing patience with them. 

"Why on earth don't they ..." Mr Williams began. 

In the dark I moved even closer to him and felt his 
hands take me gently by the waist. I leant lightly 
against him, pretending that I only wanted to get my 
lips close to his ear and speak softly so as not to 
irritate the Director further. 

"Why don't they what?" I asked. "What would you do?" 

He said nothing, but he clearly had his own ideas 
about how such a scene could be choreographed, and was 
just concerned not to show off in front of 
professionals. His arms were now holding me close and 
I could feel his erection beginning to build against 
my bottom. Reluctantly I pulled away from him. 

In Studio Two they were filming an S&M video. A man 
whose name I couldn't remember - though he'd had me a 
few times on set and once off it at an office party - 
was lying on his back, his arms and legs manacled and 
chained to big metal rings set in the walls. Four 
girls, dressed two by two in red and black leather 
corsets which squeezed their waists cruelly but left 
their breasts and cunts uncovered, matching 
stiletto-heeled shoes and long gloves, were standing 
around him holding large, lighted candles such as you 
see on the altars of Buddhist temples. When the 
Director gave the signal they tilted their candles to 
the horizontal so that the molten wax spattered on the 
man's stomach, thighs and genitals. He writhed in 
realistic agony but his rapidly erecting cock made it 
clear he was begging for more. In unison, the girls 
tilted their candles further, from what is technically 
called "soft" to "hard" hot-wax torture, the candles 
now almost upside-down, the wax pouring onto their 
victim, some drops still flaming as they landed on his 
skin. He screamed and begged them - to stop? to hurt 
him more? he probably didn't know himself - and at 
another sign from the Director the girls in red handed 
their candles to the girls in black and changed their 
positions. One squatted over the man's face, looking 
down his body. The chains restricting his hands were 
long enough to enable him to seize her by the waist, 
pinching it even tighter than the corset did, while he 
buried his tongue deep in her wet pussy and slurped 
her juices with obvious delight. The other girl in red 
squatted over his cock and gradually took it into her 
cunt while his hips writhed as eagerly as his tongue. 
The two girls bent towards each other and began to 
kiss enthusiastically, their tongues protruding from 
their mouths for the benefit of the camera as they 
coupled. Meanwhile the girls in black corsets poked 
their candles into the centre of the triangle formed 
by the three bodies so that the man's stomach 
continued to be soaked in molten wax. It was obvious 
from the way the victim was groaning and writhing 
under the girls' clever torture that he was on the 
point of coming, but before he could do so the 
Director called "Cut!" 

When a lover discovers that I work in the sex-film 
industry, he always begs me to get him parts as the 
stud in our videos. The thought of fucking a lot of 
sexy, skilful girls on camera - _and_ getting paid for 
it - is a real turn-on for just about every man, I 
think. But I always tell him to think carefully what 
it means. He will be expected to produce an erection 
whenever required, which he thinks will be easy when 
he looks at me and the other girls in costume, but 
isn't really after he's had to stand around for hours 
waiting for everything on set to be ready. Men's cocks 
have a surprisingly delicate mechanism, I find, and 
just a little loss of confidence or being made to wait 
can produce a disastrous erection malfunction at the 
wrong moment. Of course we girls have techniques for 
putting that right. But there is a much greater 
problem for a man acting in a sex-video. Even the most 
potent man can't be expected to come more than - what? 
four times, five at most - in a day. So not only is 
the actor required to produce a rock-hard erection to 
order, and maintain it for as long as the director 
wants, he often has to pull himself back from the very 
brink of coming and preserve his limited supply of 
semen for the real cum-shots. 

Still, most men who manage to get into the sex-film 
business love the work - and I will say the skills 
they acquire make them very satisfactory lovers 
off-screen. Meanwhile my guest was showing no sign of 
erection malfunction and was clearly aroused further 
by the thought of being the victim himself in a 
torture scene such as the one he had been watching. 

"Good God," he said, "I thought that was always 
faked." 

I drew myself up proudly. "Not in our studio," I said. 
"'We Always Do It For Real'. It's our company motto." 

"Amazing," he said. "I wonder ... I always thought you 
had to be very odd to do that, but now ... I'd really 
like to know what it feels like. I suppose -" he 
cleared his throat a couple of times "- I suppose it 
depends who you do it with. Or ... who does it to 
you." 

He sounded short of breath and dry-mouthed. I was no 
calmer: watching the scene in his company had affected 
me deeply. My cunt had already been well stimulated by 
my session with the vibrator on the way to work, and 
then frustrated when I was obliged to remove it. I 
could feel its juices beginning to flow again, soaking 
my panties. It was only by an effort that I reminded 
myself I was on duty, and stopped my hand from 
sneaking down under my skirt and into the top of my 
tights and skimpy little panties to caress my pussy. 
In the overspill of the studio lighting I stole a look 
at the front of my guest's jeans. The hard swelling I 
could see there now appeared fully grown, and excited 
me still further. That would be better than anything 
my fingers could do to give release to my excited 
cunt. As I moved still closer to him I wriggled 
against his crotch, trying to make it seem 
unintentional. I don't think I succeeded. He suddenly 
thought of something. 

"And you, Megumi-san?" he said hoarsely. "You act here 
too, don't you? Do _you_ always do it for real? And do 
you perform in scenes like that?" 

His arm was round my naked waist again now, and I was 
standing so close to him that his fingers easily slid 
under the front of my dress and caressed my breast. 
The nipple was already firmly erect. The sudden touch 
made me gasp; then, in case he mistook my reaction for 
protest, I moved even closer to him and let out a soft 
"mmm'mmm" of pleasure. At last I took a deep breath 
and made myself reply carefully to his question. 

"I'm an actress here, yes," I said. I had mentioned 
that when we called at the costume department. "I'm 
your guide today because it is normally my free day. 
But of course, when I am on set in front of the camera 
I obey the company rule." I paused for a moment, 
wondering if I was about to go too far, then decided 
to risk it. "Including when I am acting in scenes like 
that," I began. "And of course it's _so_ much more fun 
..." 
 
I was interrupted by the Director calling for silence 
on the set. I pulled away from my lover - I was 
already secretly looking on him as that - and we stole 
out of the studio. 

"I hope you are finding your tour interesting," I said 
formally once we were again in the corridor. 

"Most interesting," he said dryly, making fun of me I 
suppose. "Listen, Megumi-san, if today's usually your 
free day, are you off duty again once my tour is over? 
Because I'd really like to see you privately. There's 
lots you could tell me about the work here. It'd help 
me so much in my writing." 

That's what I like about Westerners: if they want 
something, they say so. If I take a Japanese man round 
the studio, he'd never ask me for a date, no matter 
how much he wanted me. He'd think it wasn't the right 
time, not while I was doing my job. He might ring the 
studio next day and try to contact me - if he 
remembered. More likely he'd just jerk off that 
evening watching one of my videos, and decide that was 
good enough and all he really wanted. 

I think Mr Williams thought from my silence that he'd 
said something wrong. 

"I'm sure you've made lots of videos," he went on. 
"God, I'd like to see them. Where can I get them?" 

Another conflict of East-West behaviour. In fact, I 
had copies of two of the videos starring me which had 
so far been released, neatly parcelled up in company 
wrapping-paper, in my shoulder-bag as a gift to him at 
the end of his tour. That was normal procedure with us 
guides. As we said good-bye to our guests, we would 
bow, hand over the gift and say coyly, "These tapes 
are only of my poor performances. I am very sorry. But 
I hope you will enjoy them nevertheless." However, it 
is of course very bad manners ever to tell someone he 
is going to get a present, or for him to assume that 
he will. And it is just as rude to open a present in 
the presence of the giver to see what it is. I decided 
to compromise. 

"Please don't worry about that, I have copies here and 
will give them to you." 

"That's wonderful!" he said. "But, Megumi-san, what 
about a date this evening? Are you free? Or some other 
time?" 

It was very flattering that he wanted me so much. 

"You'd like me to tie you up and pour hot candle-wax 
over you, would you?" I said with a coy little smile. 
It was fun teasing this big, strong _gaijin_. When we 
are lovers, I thought - yes, I was already taking it 
as settled that we would be - I would tease him a lot. 
I was sure it would stimulate him to do lovely things 
to me in return. After all, I was thinking with a part 
of my mind, that's why showing myself off nude to a 
roomful of men is called striptease: teasing them, 
holding back their lust for me till I decide the 
moment has come to release the dam and let it burst 
wonderfully over me ... 

"Well, er ... I ..." he was saying. 

He swallowed and coughed to hide his embarrassment. He 
_did_ want me to torment him like that, he wanted it 
very much, and yet could not quite admit it. Lots of 
men react like that when you suggest something 
exciting and kinky. He got himself under control. 

"Maybe on the _second_ date," he said with a smile. 
"But tonight?" 

"Well, yes, it is a free evening. And tomorrow is a 
free day. But ..." 

I suppose he thought that I didn't want to see him. Or 
wasn't allowed to under company rules. But in fact I 
was thinking something quite different. I hadn't had a 
man anywhere inside me since two days ago on set. And 
that was just reaction shots, or retaking things that 
hadn't worked in the main shooting of my latest video: 
the man had come too soon, or the lighting wasn't 
right, or something like that. 

It hadn't been at all satisfying hanging around on the 
set while the technicians argued about the exact 
position we needed to take up so that the new shots 
would fit into the continuity. I was still deeply 
aroused by the S&M scene we'd just been watching, and 
even more aroused by seeing its effect on my guest and 
by the feel of his touch on my skin. Now that I knew 
he had secret desires which perhaps matched my own, I 
hoped for a relationship in which we could explore 
them together. But as he had suggested, that could 
wait. First of all I wanted him to fuck me, and fuck 
me hard, long and well - and he had shown me clearly 
enough how keen he was to give me what I needed. And I 
needed it now, straightaway, not some time later in 
the evening when we'd been through hours of deciding 
what to wear, where to go, how to get there, what to 
eat, whose apartment to go back to ... 

"But what?" he said. 

Suddenly I had an idea. I pretended to look 
professional and severe. 

"But I am supposed to show you round the studio. And 
we haven't finished yet. Please come this way." 

He followed me meekly as I tripped off on my gold high 
heels towards the elevator. I could feel his eyes on 
my bottom, so I gave it a little extra wiggle as I 
walked. 


[Next in Part 04: Chapter III: What Happened on the 
Sixth Floor]