Frank Harris - My Life And Loves, vol 5

I began to fuck her ass, tentatively at first, and when she groaned with pleasure, more strongly, almost brutally. At the same time I encircled her lower torso with one arm, my wrist pressed against her belly and my fingers working in the wetness of her sex and clitoris. She uttered a long moan of pleasure which had the effect of stimulating me to further and even more brutal effort. She wished to be taken just in this way! At that point, I ceased altogether to treat the strange intrusion as an experiment. With my free hand, my forearm across her lovely shoulder blades, I grasped her by the hair at the scruff of her neck, forcing her face firmly against the bed. Then, with regular strong strokes, I was at her, sheathing and unsheathing myself madly, working her clitoris wildly with my fingers. At the same time the passion once again rose in my member and the flow of my semen moved upwards. I shot a steaming load into her anal canal, continuing my brutal motion until the tightness of her muscle had wrung me dry. But this time, when I was finished, she was not. She made me withdraw immediately and thrust me away from her. At first I thought she was angry with me. Anger is sometimes almost indistinguishable from erotic passion. This young Japanese girl was given over to it with almost religious fervor.

“Just a moment!” she cried.

Crossing the room in a few bounds, she returned with one of those spade-like, stiff brushes for clothes. This time she would have none of the bed. Setting herself on her knees on the floor, she threw herself in a rippling and naked arch backwards so that her thighs, belly, the moist smile of her slit, and her breasts were exposed to me. I was gazing from her to the stiff, straw-bristled brush which she had thrust into my hands. But her voice cut through my hesitation.

“Quick!” she cried passionately. “Beat me hard!”

I had no alternative but to do as I was bid. Quickly, to bring relief to her warm and anxious lust, I was over her. I brought the brush down with a hard thwack on the soft mound of her belly. A tremendous vibration passed through her rippling flesh.

“Harder!” she cried.

Although nervous, I took my courage in both hands and set about warming the entire front of her body. The more she flinched, the more punishment she required. Soon she was rolling about on the carpet calling upon me to continue the brutal rain of blows. Once again she succeeded in making me lose control. I found myself slashing at her cruelly as she rolled about ecstatically. My arm rose and fell with increasing vigor. The desire to punish fused in my imagination with the desire to hear her triumphant, pleading sobs and see her pale, sweat-sheened body leap upwards and sideways lustfully to meet the blows. And then suddenly, she emitted a tearful wail and hurled herself at my thighs. One of her hands grasped my cock and thrust it into her mouth. Gazing downwards at the pretty head which sought to bury itself at my groin, I was amazed to see myself once again rigid. No sooner did the realization come over me, than I toppled sideways onto the carpet. She sucked me deeply for several minutes, running her tongue over the shining expanse of my prick head and its turgid length. We wrestled and fought uncontrollably until, once again, her belly rose upwards to expose her naked cunt. I pulled her legs over my shoulders and drove my prick into her with all my might, all thought of precaution forgotten. All I wanted to do was fuck this girl senseless! She breathed deeply between her sobs and our passion caused our flesh to shudder more deeply than I can remember. By this time I had pinioned her hands on either side to the floor so that she lay as though crucified below me. I rose and fell against her, our bellies smacking together in a welter of sweat until, just as the new inundation coursed through the sensitive tissue of my meat, I felt her body grow weak, accepting the ichor of my passion. Her lovely young face, tearful and ecstatic at the same time, pleaded with me to stop.

“Oh,” she cried, “stop nowI can't bear any moreI shall die of pleasure! Please…”

Her eyes were closed and her tremulous young bosom rose and fell out of control. Her limbs were slack and spread on the floor. All possibility of effort had deserted her!

Gently, more tenderly than ever, I rose from her, lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bed.

Ten minutes later she opened her eyes. The coffee which I brought to her was only lukewarm, but it seemed to revive her and she drank it gratefully from the cup I held to her lips.

“You gave me so much love!” she said when she had drunk. “Really, I thought my body would burst with pleasure.”

I kissed her gently and told her to rest for the remainder of the day. I would explain to the manager, I said. She should have no fear of taking the rest she so well deserved and so badly needed. I kissed her, drew the bedclothes upwards over her lovely shoulders and went about my own toilet feeling that I had found at last a country in which love in all its varied beauty was accepted gratefully without shame as the most important gift in a good life.

The manager proved to be a very nice fellow. He cut short my explanations and prayed me to say no more about it. The chambermaid-waitress was a good girl, he said. He would gladly excuse her from her duties for the remainder of the day.

All through the country I had the same experience. Both love and courtesy were present to a degree unknown in Europe. Of course, I soon learned that this courtesy is developed in the home, where everyone bows to age. The grandfather and grandmother are most respected, then come the father and the mother, and then the children. And the children obey the same law: The eldest girl or boy come into the room first, the others follow in order of agean astonishingly courteous people to whom deference is a pleasure. The Japanese language, too, is full of ceremonial phrases which are impossible to translate into any European tongue. They are the politest race in the world and perhaps the most amiable.

Many scenes stand out in my memory. I remember an up-country town where my rickshaw was stopped by some naked girls and women who came out of a bathing place. They all wanted to see if I was white all over and I could only laugh and let them convince themselves. The crowd increased to half a hundred. They were of all ages and all entirely naked. When I touched the breasts of a pretty girl she seemed pleased and the whole crowd laughed as at a good joke. Unfortunately, I had not the time to ascertain whether I could make love with her. I had an appointment which I could not break.

Bit by bit I came to understand that there was not a trace of sexual modesty in Japan from one end to the other. Most of the women could not even understand what Europeans meant by the concept!

Every foreigner is eager to see geishas dancing, but usually is astonished at first to find how modest and how graceful the dances are, more like those of ancient Greece perhaps than any I can think of. But the “modesty” is purely formal. It does not reflect a Puritanism of spirit.

The geisha ya are places where the dancing girls are trained and let out day or evening to tea-houses or private parties. They are generally managed by women. Little girls are taken into these houses and trained not only in the art of dancing, but are also taught singing and samisen playing and all the etiquette of entertaining guests. The geisha is always willing to become the mistress of any foreigner who desires her and from whom she can expect a fair sum of money; but in Japan she is not looked down upon as she would be in Europe. The geisha are the pleasantest part of Japanese entertainments. As soon as the dainty girls enter the room, sometimes in gold or scarlet, and dance as though they are leaves driven by the wind, all the guests wake up. Sometimes the girls will play warrior and copy the warlike gestures of old heroes. Then, suddenly, they give up pretences and come and sit beside their temporary employers, laughing, jesting and drinking.