Shortly, the men exited—apparently headed for the other room of partiers.
Several minutes later, the performance was repeated. Almost every gesture, every motion was identical—although the men were different in “Act II”—they were smaller and seemed to be clad in the rags of the street. One finally triumphed and tore the clothing from his opponent. Then he pulled him into his chest, forced him to bend forward, and impaled him roughly on his cock. The exit was repeated.
Of course, Anson had warned the proprietor that he was committed to his companion and would not be requiring services from the performers, but he had left open the possibility that he and Jorge would have a change of heart after seeing the performances. But, they did not. Both of the men were incredibly aroused. Anson looked at Jorge, “Let’s take the top off our arousal.” With those words, he stretched out and took Jorge into his mouth. Jorge followed and did the same. For several minutes, in the typical yin-yang position, they were each intensely sucking and swirling as cocks strained to ever harder erections. Fingers pushed on taints and rims. And soon the sake was flavored with their cum. Anson laughed, “I think we have invented a new cock-tail. I predict it will be one of our favorites.”
Act III was quite different. All four men appeared on stage together, but the two smaller men were now made up as geishas in elaborate robes with contrasting obis. The “men” sat cross-legged in the center of the stage and the “geishas” began an erotic dance around them. The seated men seemed to have total control over their cocks. They started small and shrunken, but slowly began to rise as the geishas continued their seduction. Then the large warriors reached up and simultaneously pulled on the obis, causing them to loosen and fall to the stage. The robes fell open. He geishas were “gei.” The dancers bent over and took the men into their mouths, seeming to play them like a flute. Anson laughed and whispered to Jorge, “That the first all-male flute duet I’ve ever witnessed. I think I’ll recommend it to the SFO.”
The men pulled the geishas into their laps, began to play with and pinch their nibs into erection, and began to push their cocks into them, contorting them into impossible positions to tighten the ass crevice and increase their pleasure. It was truly a work of erotic art as robes flowed open to disclose one view of the penetration and seduction after another—like the woodcuts in one of those pillow books. The geishas writhed in pleasure—and this time there was no perfidy—the geishas exploded enormous quantities of semen onto the chests of the warriors. The men arched back, drove deeper, and obviously filled their lovers with similar amounts of cream. Then the geishas fell onto their men and huddled on their chests as the men embraced them with their huge powerful arms. The lights dimmed on the tableau, but the sexy seductive music continued.
Jorge was incredibly turned on. He looked at Anson. “Take me now, lover. I won’t make it back to the hotel. Let’s see what we can do with these toys.” Jorge reached over to the tray and removed a prostate teaser and remote. “We’re going to try this.”
Anson pushed him on his back on the futon, spread Jorge’s legs and, using his lips and tongue began to open his partner. Jasmine-lubed fingers came next, Jorge moaning in pleasure throughout. He lifted his legs, grabbed his ankles and pulled them to his shoulders, presenting his swollen opening to Anson. Anson too had been affected by the tableaux. He was as ready for pleasure as he had ever been in his life. He knelt below and began to push the head into its now familiar home. As he did so, Jorge used his free hands to insert the teaser. Jorge was definitely ready. Anson scraped the prostate and Jorge gasped. “I need you all the way in now. I’m going to explode.” With those words, he punched the remote and Anson felt the teaser stroking his own prostate and vibrating his taint. So two could play the prostate game!
Anson flexed his hips and thighs and plunged to the very bottom of Jorge’s being. Jorge’s eyes went wild in lust. He could feel he vibrations through Anson’s rock hard cock. It was like a jack-hammer. Anson had claimed victory and was reveling in his conquest. So Jorge rolled back even farther, in total submission, pulling Anson up so that he was plunging almost vertically into the chute. He plunged again and again, bringing Jorge higher and higher. Each time he did so Jorge turned up the teaser. Anson reacted by grasping and squeezing Jorge’s swollen balls. Jorge’s pre-cum began to drip to his lips. Then in a violent spasm, Anson stretched out his legs, rested on his outstretched arms, drew in his abs, and shot into the dark tunnel of paradise—perhaps the most he had ever cum. He felt Jorge’s muscular spasms, looked down and saw that his face was covered with his own cum. So Anson backed off, released Jorge’s legs and dropped down to lick the cum from Jorge’s face, finishing with a deep soul-reaching kiss. Jorge turned off the teaser. Then both collapsed.
Obviously the sounds (or perhaps the sights—for presumably the proprietor has techniques for spying on his patrons—if only to protect his performers from harm) signaled that his guests were over—or at least resting. The lower screen slid open again. On the tray this time were a steaming bowl of perfumed water and two large warmed towels. Some very sweet pastries were also provided.
The night was over. Soon they were off to the hotel. This had been an experience which changed them. They had witnessed another culture—and other beautiful men enjoying other men. The brotherhood of men loving men was universal. But their own relationship was reaching new heights.
Anson, ever the intellect-lawyer, began to wonder. They had witnessed the powerful, militarist, sexual acts of warriors that climaxed in powerful orgasms—one taken and one accepted. Yet Japan was a culture that was decidedly pacifist, at least for the last 70 years. Why did sex need to be violent combat—even the feigned geisha Act III? The fiercest warrior, the largest sword (cock), always vanquishes the smaller weaker opponent—and then owns his soul by penetrating and depositing seed.
He and Jorge had also enjoyed fabulous joy and pleasure—but theirs was founded on compassion, sensuousness—and possibly love. What did combat have to do with it? Why was some sex a battle between a dominant top and a submissive bottom while other sex was the exchange of pleasure between two magnificent creatures? He wondered whether he would ever be able to puzzle out that paradox.
He decided to discuss it with Jorge. The last three weeks had been among the best in Anson’s life. After a few years of “playing the field,” he had married someone he was expected to marry. He then had about a dozen years of vanilla sex with her, certainly enjoyed by both. Although he was always the initiator and the dominant partner, it was ultimately not life-shattering. This was followed by about a half dozen years of desert celibacy, punctuated by porn-assisted self-stimulation, as his spouse died. Then he had discovered Jorge. It was like a new spring. He didn’t want to screw this up. He wanted to understand the possibilities.