It’s been a month since I’ve been back from my trip to Japan and I haven’t finished telling those stories yet. And this story… is my personal favorite. It’s a Part II to the Making Out with Japanese Mormon Virgin story. And it’s about sex. But it’s also about my favorite girl from the trip. And that’s saying a lot… as there were a lot of girls on that trip.
“You never know what will happen when you initiate an arc with a given girl. You never know what a girl is like… and even if you have an idea of what a girl might be like… I don’t always know what it would be like to share time with her? Or to share a kiss. Or to share a bed. I am so curious.”
That ^ is a line from my first post about this girl. I called her Miss Naïve at the time.
“Let say, she was one of the most naïve girls you’ve ever met. And let’s assume you have met hundreds (or in my case, thousands) of girls. And with all that experience, a particular girl seemed to be in the ‘top ten’ most naïve girls of your life. And in particular, naïve with a combination of childish innocence and compliance.”
At the time I wrote that story, I was hopeful about her and myself, but I didn’t know then that I would have two more dates with her. Or that they would be some of my favorite dates of my life.
“I didn’t take her home. I know I could have. And I probably could have fucked my first virgin tonight. Maybe. I don’t know.”
This ^ is also from the end of that second date, and I was still drunk on the flavor of her mouth. And was lost in my own wonderings as to whether I should have tried to fuck her that night. She was very compliant… but also sort of childishly “simple.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about all that.
HER: I’m lucky to you like a introvert girl.
HER: Thank you!
She sent me this ^ after that date.
I know I couldn’t stop thinking about her. If you saw this girl you be surprised I would make such a big deal about her. She is no stunner, but I couldn’t wait to see her again.
So I set up another date. And as I was pinging her about times, she responded with this:
HER: How about Tuesday?
HER: If you are busy Tuesday, I will change my Monday’s schedule.
HER: Let’s eat dinner Tuesday or Monday!
NASH: I am busy Tuesday…
NASH: Me and you and dinner.
NASH: I will take you someplace fun.
HER: I changed my schedule
HER: I can see you Monday!
HER: Thank you so much always
All this is raging “Yes” girl stuff.
As I look back at some of the texts she and I sent… I know this is not “cool guy game.” In general, I’m not into that kind of seduction at all, but even so… I realize the way I treated this girl would have probably been anti-game with some other girl. It would have been too much “pull,” not enough “push.” But the straightforward appreciation we had for each other was a big part of what I liked about her.
In any case, she had agreed and our third date was on.
The night of our third date, I was tempted to take her to my favorite neighborhood restaurant in Tokyo… but I knew it was too fancy for her. She is such a simple thing.
I took her instead to one of my other favorite places… the place I took the Korean Princess way back in 2014… and have taken at least a dozen more girls since then. It’s a “funky” American style place. It’s cool… but not particularly intimate. But for this girl’s personality, it was a better choice.
We met at the Starbucks at the Scramble by Shibuya station (where I have met probably 30+ girls in Japan). And she was dressed kind of weird. Again.
She wore a coat and that little backpack with girly designs on it. A big, formless “sack” of a dress that would hide the features of much bigger girl, let alone her relatively tiny body. Bare legs, which you could hardly see as her conservative dress came well past her knees. A pair of trainers, like always. And her awkward haircut to round out the look.
I’m not trying to “sell” the girl here (obviously). I bet most men reading this would never look twice at her, and I get why. She was not what I would call “hot”… and still… I am fucking aching just thinking about her right now.
I sent a picture of her to two of my wings when I got home (Sundance and Runner). And in both cases, I prefaced the pic with a “confession” that she was my favorite girl of the trip… and she IS (most definitely) my favorite… by a wide margin. And I know it is a “confession” to be this into such a homely girl… but I am. She was phenomenal… weird clothes and all.
And it is a beautiful thing about game for me to test-drive and eventually love a girl like this one. Stopping her was part of me “drag netting” the sidewalk. Following up the lead was routine, almost mechanical. The first date was odd for me and seemed lame at the time.
But then I kissed her toward the end of that first date… and the world stopped spinning for a moment. And then the second date… and I was fucking hooked (even after thinking she might be a bit dumb).
There is a “honey-like” quality to her. This slow, sticky deliciousness.
So we change her name to Miss Honey. That’s better.
I can’t even put words to how I feel thinking about her… but let’s go on with the story.
Our third date was a Tuesday night, and as we walked from Starbucks to dinner I asked about her weekend and she told me she had had a birthday… she was now 24 years old. She spent it with her parents. They came in from out of town to see her. I asked about the food and she said her mom cooked for her. I asked about desert and she said there was cake… a friend of her had joined them, and brought the cake.
On our previous date I had asked about her friends and she seemed like she didn’t have many. She wasn’t sad about it, it was just a fact. In this case, I asked “which friend?” I was wanting to know more about her life. The cake-friend was an older lady from her church. Her 36 year old church lady friend. This girl is a Mormon… and her church friend brought the cake.
All of this detail is more proof for me about how absolutely different she and I are… these details added strangeness to the affair.
In retrospect… those details were a kind of “set-up.” It was building up to the “punchline” of what it would be like to get truly intimate with her. It was all part of the “push” of her… before the intensity of her “pull” as we eventually came skin to skin.
It’s all a rich dream for me.
That dinner was the third time we’d eaten together, so I knew what to expect. It was great… but excruciatingly slow. I am maybe the slowest eater I know. I love to talk and take my time and draw a meal out. But she eats at about 1/2 the pace I do. I was trying to time my eating to hers… watching her finish a bite before I would take my next one… so we were “together”… and so she didn’t feel rushed.
She never looked rushed, though…
She is so slow. So deeply, deeply slow… like honey… dripping off a spoon.
“I like this girl. And I like what is going on between she and I. But she seems dead-simple. I’m not sure if she is very overwhelmed, or not that bright, or both.”
That ^ was how I described her after she and I had pizza on date #2. And part of why I felt unsure about fucking her that night was this feeling like she was not that bright. I felt bad. I felt bad for even thinking she was a “dumb” girl. And I felt bad… because it was like I was taking advantage of a girl that didn’t have the brain-power to defend herself.
But I was wrong about all that.
She’s not dumb… not at all. Over time I would notice she does everything in a perfectly “alert” way… but at 1/2 speed.
I came to understand her better as I would text with her across those many dates: her texts lack nothing. They may be extra sweet, but they are plenty “quick,” and they have all the nuance that I would expect from a girl I might date.
She is “different” and “strange,” but not dumb. Not at all.
It’s just that, in person… she doesn’t “multitask.” She is 100% into whatever she is doing. She is “present” (as the meditators say), in an almost savant-like way. Alert, but slow. Calm. Unbelievably calm. She eats so slow, in part, as during those meals she would give me 100% of her attention… staring at me while she ate… her soft, little fingers barely extended beyond the sleeves of her dress.
Goddamn it… once you “get” her… that quality is beyond charming.
I can’t be “typical me” and be with her. I have to slow to her level. It takes time. Beginning on date #3, I would intentionally try to “get on her wavelength,” and then… the experience was like the sweetest of opiates. A slow, tranquil, honey-high. Magical.
“At least now she knows, explicitly, beyond any cloud of Disney infantilization what will happen if she comes back to my house. She has been warned.”
One of the thoughts ^ running through my head after our second date.
And as we left dinner on the third date, I asked her to come home with me.
She stopped and stared as I said it. A long, slow, but intense stare. Almost like I’d insulted her and she was indignant… but a little more playful than that. How much of it was real and how much was show, I don’t know. But by then I had caught her rhythm, so I waited her out for a long series of silent beats… there on the sidewalk… like a staring contest with a cat.
Finally I acknowledge the standoff and admitted to her that yes, “I am dangerous,” but she should come back to my place for a little while, see how she feels. She gave me a bit of real-to-mock outrage, and then seemed to submit as I grabbed her soft hand and dragged her into the Lawson convenience store for another of my favorite candy bars. We nibbled on chocolate as we walked the backstreets to my apartment.
I could barely wait to taste her mouth again.
I don’t know if it was the third or the fourth date, but I know one of those dates, I asked her a question as we sat on the little two-seater couch in my apartment. By then I had learned that she gives a very subtle facial cue when she intends to give me an answer to a question. This is important to knowing how to read her, because when I ask her a question, sometimes she goes a bit blank-faced and looks up into her head… and then… we wait… and we wait some more… for a really long time… waiting… mired in honey… frozen time… that is her pace.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
I remember on the first and second dates I thought she was “translating.” There is a common “lag” when a person is looking for the correct word in their head when they are trying to respond in something other than their native tongue. At first, I thought that was what was going on with her. But now I know it’s something more than that… the slowness is just her way.
In this case, I asked some question (it doesn’t matter what it was)… and I saw that flicker across her face which I now know is her intention to respond, and this time… I committed to waiting. And… I bet we sat in silence for almost two full minutes before she responded.
And she was dead calm the whole time. So was I.
I was like a student waiting for wisdom from a sage. It was as if we were both listening for the sound of strange animal off in the distance. And I was beginning to get used to this nearly “alien” girl, so I embraced the personal customs of her speech… and I waited out the two minutes to get a one or two word answer.
It doesn’t even matter what she said… to submit to her pace was it’s own reward.
And I loved it.
There is nothing on earth like this girl.
So I went back to making out with her. And I moved her to the bed. And I started to undress her.
And I had the usual-unusual feeling of “oh… wow… I am about to fuck this girl”… but it was a little more complicated than that… as I assumed she was a virgin. And I have been working up to fucking my first virgin (from daygame) for a long time. All signals were “go.” And I assumed her flower was mine for the taking.
So I took off her vest and then the strange, conservative dress she wore (which had been a birthday present). That dress starts at her neck and goes down past her knees. There are maybe “100 buttons” that help to seal the fabric around her young body…. I undid each of them… one at a time. Her big, doe eyes stared at me as I underdressed her.
She wore a black tank top under her dress. As I reached that layer of her outfit, she looked “normal” for the first time… and also increasingly lovely… her smooth, white skin… and her delicious little body in view for the first time. And I took off her little, warm shorts she wore under the dress. And then her bra. And I kissed her. And sampled her smooth, young skin with my mouth. Including her tiny nipples.
As I went to take off her panties she squirmed and gave me the first real resistance. She was nervous for all the previous undressing and making out, but here she was more serious. But again, so feminine and compliant… the panties came off and…
She was on her period. She never said it, but there was the tell-tale sign of a tampon. A “girls day,” as they say in Japan.
The tampon surprised me. I assumed “virgin” meant “unbroken,” but she had certainly been penetrated. The technicalities of it all were beginning to unfold.
From there I know we kept making out. And I pulled her naked body on top of me. And I unbuttoned my pants and put her hand on my cock. And then, I told her I wanted her mouth on me. And again she complied and… the blowjob was fantastic.
And once again I felt “naïve” myself, thinking this girl could be a “virgin.”
And now… a virgin, on her period. I had been brimming with pre-sex anticipation since the last time I’d had her out… I had dreamt about what it would be like to have the chance to take her… and now, me, insanely turned on… I decided to try to fuck her anyway.
I got a condom and told her to go to the bathroom and take the tampon out. She said no. She didn’t really say no… she just shook her head and looked a bit anxious and resisted. I thought that might be “the wall,” and that I might have overshot the moment, but we continued to heat up. Any plan I might have had earlier was out the window… but we kept “fooling around.”
I flipped her over and rubbed my cock against her ass and she was oddly comfortable about it. It was dark. I barely knew her. We don’t speak the same language. She is incredibly unusual. And with all that said, I could tell she was something like “comfortable” with me getting after her ass. She was face down… I couldn’t even see her face… but it felt “right.”
So… I fucked her ass.
I remember leaning back so I could actually see my cock in her ass. I needed clear, visual confirmation, as the whole thing was a bizarre fantasy. Even now, it’s like a very strange independent movie… the whole story. I wanted to “see” so I could be sure it was real. And it was. I was fucking a Japanese Mormon Virgin in the ass.
I pulled out after a while. I put her on her back, and fucked her some more, so I could see her face while I was buried inside her. And then I pulled out one last time and came all over her young, smooth, little body.
It was an unbelievable sexual experience.
I had my first virgin in 20 years. And I had her ass. All while she was on her period and protecting her “virginity.” It was remarkable.
We lay there for a while and there was nothing weird about it. She was sweet, and intimate, and emotionally available.
As I stood her up, and I walked her to the shower to rinse off, she staggered and clung to me. She gave me big, shocked eyes, that again had a hint of playfulness in them. More mock-outrage. How dare I?!
In the shower she just stared at me and barely moved. I took the removable shower head off the wall and moved it over her and let the warm water run across her body as she looked up at me. I soaped her up, washing my come off of her. And then rinsed her off. More shameless compliance. More radical acceptance of my lead. I toweled her dry.
We put her clothes back on… that odd, old fashioned dress with 100 buttons. I offered to let her spend the night but she wanted to go home, so I walked her to the train.
HER: Thank you for today
HER: I arrived at my house
NASH: Okay, Pretty Girl
NASH: Get some sleep
NASH: I had a wonderful time with you
HER: I really sleep and tired because I did something I was not used to…
This ^ arrived as I sat on my couch and drank beers in the post-sex zombie trance of a satisfied daygamer.
“Not used to…”
I feel like it’s a safe bet that I am not the first guy to put a cock in her ass (she took it all way to easily… physically… but even more so at the emotional level). But that comment added pride to my general feeling of overwhelm.
What a strange night. What a great night.
NASH: Hello Pretty Thing
NASH: I am smiling and happy… still thinking of last night
NASH: Can you see me on Thursday night?
I sent this ^ the next day. More of me being “uncoolly” into her.
HER: Thank you for dinner, a chocolate and more…
HER: I can see you Thursday night.
She is a little slow to respond via text… often waits until the end of the day, close to her bedtime, and then… she and I would go back and forth for a few messages. With some girls, I would wonder if she was off the hook… but with this girl, it was more of the strange customs of her personal world.
NASH: Hello Delicious Girl
NASH: I made a reservation for us for dinner tomorrow
HER: Good evening!
HER: But I am not pretty and delicious…
HER: Especially not delicious :)
HER: Thank you for reservation.
HER: I’m looking forward to seeing you again.
She almost always refuses my compliments. You can see that never stopped me from issuing the next batch of praise, even as I knew she would brush it off each time. In person, I would grab her wrists and dominate her in those moments, and she would surrender and get flushed and turned on… and take my forceful kissing with no protest. But via text, she always bats back the compliments.
I would not say that she has “high self-esteem.” Certainly not. But I don’t think she has low self-esteem either. She one of kind. An incredibly odd, but healthy little girl. She is of her own breed. I have never met one like her.
For the fourth date, I decided to take her to the fancier place after all. I was even more certain it wasn’t her style (she was very much at home in the simple pizza place on date #2)… but I wanted this spot, as I knew it was endlessly comfortable.
I knew they would give me “my seat,” as I had already had so many dates there and the staff knows what I want. And as she is so slow-beyond-slow… the lush space of that restaurant would give us a place to melt together and enjoy the night.
We met at the train station, same spot as pizza night. And she wore her usual odd combination of clothes… but in this instance, she had added a plain, dark beanie on her head. And big, complicated headphones. The beanie and headphones made her look even more like an artist (which is why I originally stopped her)… but she is not.
Here are some notes from that date I typed into my phone the next day:
“Miss Honey, again… insanely slow, languid dinner. I love how slow she is. Very in the moment. Still lots of giggling and seeming insecurity. She served me food, and showed some strength in insisting that she do that.”
It’s true. She is childishly wonderful, and soft, and easy, and compliant. But she would insist on serving me food.
It’s a Japanese thing… not every girl, but many of the girls I would date insist on serving me, putting the food on the small plates that are common in Japanese restaurants. She would do this… and would give me a stern, disapproving look each time I would try to serve myself. It was the “strongest” side of her I ever saw… and she did it each time we were in a proper restaurant.
“Then my place… insane sexual vibe.”
I had her back at my place again, and quickly out of her clothes. It was only three days since our last date, but her period was gone. I ate her pussy, which was sopping wet.
And since her period was over, and I had already fucked her ass, I assumed it was time to fuck her pussy as well. But I was wrong.
I put on a condom and she looked a bit more anxious than otherwise. And her movements increased in speed, they were almost “jerky.” And as I would try to get my cock inside her, she would rapidly shake her head back and forth in the “no” gesture. I tried a couple more times and then gave up… flipping her over, once again… and burying my cock in her ass for the second time. And then, again, coming all over her.
Another shower. And this time she slept over. We put on a movie and fell asleep with her as “little spoon” and me as “big spoon,” wrapped around her tender, little body.
I was in Honey Heaven.
In the middle of the night we woke up and we were ravenously hot for each other.
Actually… being with her… sleeping with her… was one of those experiences where you never really sleep. You doze, but the vibe is too smoldering to actually rest. More touch than slumber. But in the middle of the night we properly woke up and went after each other… hands everywhere, mouths open and wet, warm bodies pressed against each other.
Once again, I thought I would fuck her. I put on yet another condom. And she shook her head. Again. Again… no.
I tried. Several times. Not forcefully… but over and over. And she was so hot… so turned on… and so was I… it was unbearable.
And I felt then… I still feel now… that if I had “thrust” in just the right way, at just the right time, I would have slipped inside her and properly taken her virginity. Some small part of me thinks I was meant to do just that.
And some other part of me knows that is not true. In fact, she worked herself into a frenzy in that middle-of-the-night session, shaking her head “no” almost violently. And her intensity was so serious, I gave up the sexual vibe, and pulled her onto my chest and talked to her.
She was shy and odd and removed after the abandoned sex attempt. And she was in my arms, but almost trying to burrow her head into my chest. She was hiding. She was “closed off.”
I made her look at me. I talked with her about having a closed vs open heart. I breathed with her. And she barely speaks English, but she got it. And she slowly relaxed. More long, strong eye contact. Her body relaxed. And she smiled. And she opened up again. And there was a glow in her eyes.
I believe she IS a “virgin” after all. She is a “technical” virgin, meaning she has never had a cock inside her pussy. As I said, I think it’s more than likely I was not the first guy to fuck her in the ass… that’s why she was so comfortable as I made that move the first time. But her “virginity” is important to her, likely for religious reasons. Very important, it seems.
Someday… she will marry some nice Mormon boy, and she will look him the eyes, and tell him he is the first guy to “fuck her.” And in a ridiculous way, it will be true.
Good for her.
The next morning I fed her strawberries in bed. And we laid around playing with each other in a sexual way. Kissing. Touching each other. I would mount her chest and put my cock in her mouth and fuck her pretty face as she looked up with those huge eyes. I didn’t come that morning… as I had a date with Miss Athlete for that night and I wanted to have some bullets left in my gun.
But I will never forget that morning. Perhaps most especially a moment right before we finally got out of bed… as I lay on my back… with her in the crook of my arm… kissing me… and she stroked my cock as I edged near orgasm. We held that state… that peak of sensation… for what seemed like forever. I wouldn’t come. And I wouldn’t let myself get soft. And she eagerly played me like an instrument in that state… sucking on my mouth and ensuring I could never forget her or that morning in my bed.
I didn’t want that moment to end. And I will never forget it.
We showered and we put on her clothes.
I remember as we left the house I invited her to spend my last real night in the city with me (which would be two nights later). I could see in her eyes the answer was “no,” but that’s not what she said. She said “maybe.” She is almost too sweet to say no to me.
I walked her to the train. I kissed her and sent her off. I was in a daze. I am drunk even now, just remembering her particular brand of magic.
“Best date of the trip.”
From ^ the notes I wrote that day.
“And I am left with a kind of profound ‘respect’ for how different she is… for what she is like… for where she is at in her life… versus my life. And I smile to think of how turned on I got tonight as I pushed her up against the walls of various buildings… to squeeze her little-soft wrists… and to suck on her mouth. Unbelievable hot.”
That ^ too, was from after the second date, before I’d ever been inside this particular little girl. But even after having fucked her ass twice, I had that same strange reverence for her and the experience. Something like respect. And deep appreciation.
It is easy to love that one.
It was not the best sex of my life… that honor is reserved for Miss Thick. It wasn’t even in the top three girls, sexually. But my last night with her is near the very top of the list of nights I’ve ever had with a girl.
She is certainly the strangest girl I’ve spend this kind of time with… and she left a mark on me. She had power in a way I can’t describe. She is no way “dangerous,” like some of the girls I have called “Siren.” But she could summon an effect on me that is like no other.
What an unbelievable experience.
“I love her. She is my honey dream.”
Yes. She is. She is an amazing girl. All this… from stopping some “goofy,” odd girl on the street one night. What an amazing surprise she was… one of my favorite girls of all time.