We Always Do It For Real.13

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

PART 13

CHAPTER X

Megumi Celebrates

"Come on, we must celebrate!" I said to Ken as I hung 
up the phone. "I want to go and do something 
outrageous! Something I've never done before!" 

He looked at me for a moment. "All right," he said 
slowly. "Let's broaden your experience tonight. It's 
time you met your future customers." 

"What do you mean?" 

"If you like, I'll take you to where you will see the 
sex trade in operation, and meet the sort of men who 
really use it. Not afraid, are you?" 

"Don't be silly," I said. "It sounds fun." 

"One day they'll be talking about you at work. 'Hey!' 
someone will say, 'I've rented this really great fuck 
video. New girl in it, Megumi something. God, I'd like 
to have her! The things she does with her mouth and 
her cunt ... You should see it.' That sort of thing." 

"You're making me wet just talking like that." 

"OK, then. You'd better dress up for it. Where we're 
going, men like their girls to look really tarty." 

For a moment I hesitated. Then I thought, he'll see 
that I'm not in any danger. And anyway, I wanted to do 
it. 

"They sound like the sort of men I like," I said. 

So we set off for the subway. I was wearing a 
transparent red blouse with long, full sleeves over a 
black bra, and a shiny black miniskirt tailored to fit 
snugly round my bottom and short enough to show little 
glimpses of the pretty red side-tie panties in the 
same shiny material underneath. I added a belt, 
buckled tightly to show off my slim waist, and red 
shoes with high heels in shiny silver. I looked at 
myself in the mirror. "Really tarty," Ken had said. 
Yes, I was that all right - and very smart, too. It 
felt nice. Men would surely want me like this: I 
wanted them to want me. 

It was a warm May evening and I didn't bother with a 
coat. Already the attention I was attracting from 
other passengers was giving me a nice shivery feeling. 
We got off at Asakusa Station and walked through the 
cheap entertainment area around the big Buddhist 
temple. We stopped for drinks and snacks at a couple 
of bars. I was stimulated by the admiring way people 
looked at me, though at first I was a bit frightened 
and clung close to Ken. But soon I realised no one 
meant me any harm: all those factory workers, 
warehousemen and dockers were just out for a cheap, 
pleasant evening. They wanted the evening to include 
sex, but if they were frank about fancying me they 
recognised that Ken had got me first. 

"God, that girl of yours makes my balls itch!" one man 
called cheerfully to him across a bar. "Where'd you 
find her?" 

"Need any help stuffing her, mate?" asked another. 
"Bet she's costing you." His girl pretended to be 
annoyed. 

I soon began to enjoy their open admiration, and to 
thank them with shy smiles and by making sure they had 
the chance to sneak a good look up my tight miniskirt 
when, tossing my hair back provocatively, I crossed 
and re-crossed my legs. I enjoyed teasing them nicely 
like that, and could tell they enjoyed being teased. 
It would have been very different, I knew, if I had 
gone there alone. That was a frightening thought, and 
an exciting and stimulating one too. I stored it away 
for later. 

"New to this, are you, dear?" one of the girls 
suddenly asked me. 

"Er ... Just out with my boyfriend," I replied. 

"How old are you? Still at school?" 

"Seventeen," I admitted. "And a half." 

"Well, you be careful now. Make sure he looks after 
you and gets you home safe." 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome. I can see you're going to be one of 
us one day. The way you keep showing them your pretty 
little pussy - sweet seventeen and can't wait to be 
fucked! You think it's the best thing there is, don't 
you?" 

My blushes showed how much I did. 

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts. But take it easy. You 
don't have to come to places like this. You can pull a 
better type of man than this lot, with your sweet face 
and cute body." 

I smiled at her shyly. I was beginning to feel a 
little uneasy, even while enjoying all the stimulation 
I was getting from the sexual tension in the air. I 
suggested to Ken that we should move on. 

There were whistles and cries of "Come back soon, 
sweetheart!" and "Leave him behind next time!" 

A little way down the narrow street was an 
old-fashioned building which at first I thought must 
be a public bath-house such as you still find in 
poorer districts in Japan, social centres as well as 
providers of a useful service. But as we came closer I 
saw that it was a sort of theatre offering a strip 
show. I looked with interest at the screaming posters 
and photos advertising tonight's attractions. 

"Would you like to see inside?" asked Ken. 

"Don't be silly, a girl can't go in there!" 

"They do. Couples do. Learn a lot," said Ken, suddenly 
hoarse. While I still hesitated he went up to the 
window and bought two tickets. We were committed now. 

Two middle-aged women greeted us with raucous shouts 
of "Welcome!" It was a shoes-off establishment, but 
when the women saw my smart stilettos and Ken's 
expensive trainers they gave us plastic bags to carry 
them in: clearly the shoe-racks were not always safe 
in a place like this. 

The show had already started. There was a small stage, 
and what we call a _hanamichi_ or "flower-path": a 
sort of cat-walk extending from the front of the stage 
a long way into the audience. The place was about 
half-full, the audience sitting on the worn _tatami_ 
mats as close to the edges of the stage and cat-walk 
as they could get. In the middle of the brightly 
illuminated cat-walk a girl was kneeling, still in her 
bra and panties. Ken pushed through the audience into 
places quite near her. Perhaps the other men would 
have objected to this intrusion if he had been alone, 
but when they saw he had me with him they willingly 
gave way, and we had a good view as the girl slipped 
her hand into her panties and began to caress her 
pussy in time to the loud music. With her free hand 
she undid the hook of her bra and let it fall, leaning 
her head and shoulders backwards so that her breasts 
jutted out firmly. I could sense the arousal all 
around me: it hung in the air like incense in a 
temple. The girl was probably fairly ordinary in her 
everyday clothes, but her nakedness before this 
audience made her special: an object of awe and 
worship. 

She stood up and slowly pulled apart the bows of her 
side-tie panties, holding them lightly in front of her 
so as to conceal her pubic hair and pussy. She walked 
slowly and provocatively back to the main stage, her 
fingers probing her cunt through the thin cloth of her 
dangling panties. 

When she reached the stage, she picked up a hand-towel 
which had been left there for her and held it against 
her crotch while letting the panties fall to the 
floor. She walked slowly across the front of the 
stage, the audience seeming to know what would happen 
next. She suddenly chose her spot, squatted down, and 
raised the towel to allow those nearest to the stage 
the chance to examine her cunt at close quarters. 
Those within range scrambled forward and heads 
disappeared under the towel. 

"Who said you could suck me?" she cried and pushed one 
of the heads back, its owner delighted at having his 
reputation made among his mates. 

The girl stood up and repeated the performance on the 
other side of the stage. I was beginning to realise 
something about my chosen profession. This girl was, 
as I said, not especially beautiful, but she had an 
important gift: she knew how to show herself off. Most 
men, and many girls too, would do anything to be 
allowed to see her naked, and watch her enjoying their 
excitement. More beautiful women would seem boring 
beside her. Her relationship with her audience was 
almost tangible: her provocative nudity aroused them, 
and their lust aroused her. Feminists who think we 
girls are being exploited miss the point. A good 
stripper, a good fuck-film actress, has complete 
control over her audience. As they watch spellbound, 
and imagine themselves enjoying her body, they are as 
much part of the show as she is, and if anyone is 
being exploited it is they. I was very naive about the 
sex business then, but in that sleazy strip joint I 
began to understand how a nude girl, the only girl in 
a room full of sexually aroused men, has them 
completely in her power if only she knows how to use 
it. Did I have that power and could I use it? I was 
about to find out. 

The girl stood up again, dropped the towel and posed 
nude as the lights dimmed and the rudimentary curtain 
was drawn across. The house lights came up: there was 
to be a brief interval. I looked around and saw that, 
despite Ken's assurances, we were the only couple in 
the room: there were no other girls. I looked at him 
and could tell from his breathless excitement that he 
saw it too. My heart was beating fast. I had no clear 
idea what was about to happen, but I felt a thrilling 
experience lay ahead of me. Exactly how thrilling I 
would soon discover. 

The lights went down again. There was a drum-roll. A 
weedy MC in a shiny tuxedo stepped into a pink 
spotlight and announced that Tonight (like every night 
no doubt) Was Amateur Night! Any young ladies present 
who wanted to test their abilities before one of the 
most discriminating audiences in Tokyo should now 
please step forward! 

There was a breathless hush. Most of the men there 
must have realised I was the only girl in the 
audience. While I continued to make no move, some of 
those nearest me began a slow handclap, smiling at me 
with encouragement. 

I was terrified and thrilled at the same time. Was I 
going to make a tearful dash for the exit, looking so 
silly that no man would want me enough even to try and 
stop me? I couldn't do that. Or was I Megumi Kato, the 
as yet undiscovered Queen of the Japanese fuck-film 
industry, soon to be every worthwhile man's preferred 
masturbation fantasy? Well, of course I was. Could I 
use the power I had just begun to understand over this 
roomful of erections? Or would they usurp the power, 
rush the stage and rape me? All I could do was try it 
and see. (And anyway, a treacherous corner of my mind 
reminded me, multiple rape was one of my own bedtime 
fantasies and might be fun.) 

I realised Ken was whispering to me. "Go on, 
darling!" he said. "Do it! I want you to! And you know 
how much you're longing to!" 

He was right. I was desperate to do what the girl had 
done - that, and more, much more. I scrambled to my 
feet. Those near me cheered. Willing hands helped me 
up onto the cat-walk, making the most of the chance to 
fondle my bottom and thighs. I found I very much 
enjoyed being stroked like that in public, and smiled 
down at them coquettishly. I was still clutching the 
plastic bag with my shoes: I put them on, and gave the 
empty bag to one of my helpers, bending down to kiss 
the top of his head as I did so. Loud music with an 
insistent beat began, and the lighting man poured 
everything he had onto me. I walked up and down the 
cat-walk a few times, as sexily as I knew how. On one 
turn I began to unbutton my blouse. It took a while: 
the secret of a transparent blouse is that it should 
hide nothing but also cover everything; and mine had a 
full row of buttons down the front between my breasts, 
and several on each sleeve. I took my time, finally 
pulling the tails out of my skirt and letting the 
blouse fall to the ground when my walk had taken me up 
to the main stage - I could only hope some stage-hand 
would whisk it away so that I could get it back later. 

Next came my bra. I massaged my breasts through the 
cloth till I thought the audience could stand it no 
longer, then knelt at the edge of the cat-walk, facing 
inwards, and invited an invisible member of the 
audience to undo the hook for me. As soon as I felt it 
give way, I let out a little scream, stood up while 
pretending to reprimand him, and let the bra fall down 
my arms and off. I didn't expect ever to see it again, 
and by then I didn't care. I stroked my nipples for a 
few moments, bringing them to full erection now they 
were free from the pressure of the bra. 

Now the skirt. I undid the belt. There was still a 
hook at the side and a zip part of the way down. 
Again, I took my time, and made them wait. Gradually, 
as I stood on the main stage responding to the music's 
beat, I eased my tight, shiny, black miniskirt over my 
bottom and thighs, and finally let it fall to the 
ground. There was a groan as I stood there, posing 
prettily for them in nothing but my little shiny red 
panties and my matching high-heeled shoes. 

Well, obviously I was going to give them the full 
show. They were all desperate to see me nude, of 
course; and I was just as desperate to be nude for 
them. I now understood that. I recognised my own 
sexual needs and desires at last. There was nothing in 
the world I longed for more at that moment than to 
give them the thrill they wanted and share it with 
them. By delaying the moment when I would remove my 
panties I was teasing myself, not just teasing 
them - and I couldn't bear to wait any longer. 

I walked slowly back down the cat-walk, acted 
resistance, pretended to be surprised that anyone 
should think there was more to come, and with a shy 
smile gave way. At the far end I knelt down facing 
back towards the stage so that everyone could see me, 
thighs out in front, feet behind me, shoulders and 
head back to display my firm young breasts, one hand 
playing with my pussy through the scrap of shiny red 
cloth, the other with my long hair. At last I reached 
out both hands, took the nearest hand on either side 
of the narrow platform, and gave each the end of one 
bow of my dainty little panties to hold. 

Coyly I said to my helpers, "Please, not yet!" Then 
without warning I scrambled to my feet, the movement 
causing the panties to fall apart. While they were 
still held across the stage by the two men I had 
chosen, I deftly retrieved them, holding them high 
above my head in one hand as I proudly displayed 
myself in a march of triumph up and down the cat-walk, 
the other hand on my hip like a fashion model. 

For the first time in my life I was totally nude in 
front of a real audience. I had been dreaming of that 
for months, of course; but I had never imagined that 
when I finally managed it, it would feel so wonderful! 
I wanted it to last for ever, this total communion 
between my beautiful feminine nakedness and the 
thrilling masculine lust boiling up all around me. My 
whole body was tingling with excitement, and all the 
men watching me seemed to be holding their breath. My 
only desire was to be nude like this for ever, with 
not a scrap of anything to cover myself with, sharing 
this wonderful sexual empathy with my audience. On a 
sudden impulse I balled the unwanted panties together 
and tossed them into the audience without bothering to 
look where they landed. I was free at last! Free to be 
nude, totally nude - for them, for myself. A roar went 
up. 


[Next in Part 14: Chapter X continued, and Chapter XI: 
Part-Time Work]

For complete series so far see 
/files/Authors/Bob_Williams