Vanilla

by Guy Willard

  No one wanted to be first, so Harada got four pairs of disposable chopsticks and broke one pair in half. They drew chopsticks, the boys and girls separately, and the two with the shortened sticks had to play. The losers in the first draw were Mori and a girl named Toyoko. Reluctantly they got to their feet and stood at the front of the room where, to the rhythm of everyone’s handclaps and singing, they began to dance. At the climax, they did rock-paper-scissors. Toyoko lost, and the boys shouted with delight. Laughing, she undid an earring and dropped it onto the table.

  The game continued. Mori lost the next round, so he took off his shirt. And then he lost the next round as well. As the game progressed, it became obvious that Mori was quite drunk—and was continuously losing because of it. He seemed to be unaware that he was regularly putting out a paper to Toyoko’s scissors. The boys groaned loudly at his obtuseness, and when they pointed out his error, he merely changed to a continuous rock. Finally he was down to his T-shirt and briefs. Toyoko still had everything on except her earrings, stockings, and a bracelet.

  “Mori,” said Harada, “if you don’t win the next round, you’re not going to be invited to our next party.”

  “I’m trying my hardest,” said Mori helplessly.

  The game recommenced, and he lost again. Now with his T-shirt gone, he had nothing left to remove but his briefs.

  “Well, it looks like the game is over,” he said sheepishly. “I lost.”

  “Nonsense,” said Harada. “You’re not a man if you stop at this point.”

  “What!”

  Everyone laughed and clapped.

  “But all I have left is my underpants!”

  “That’s okay. Give it one more try. Look at Toyoko-san. You haven’t even gotten her blouse off.”

  “All right,” said Mori. “But I can’t be held responsible for what happens after this.”

  “Just concentrate on winning.”

  They began another round, and at the climax there was a terrific groan from the boys: Mori had lost again. He sank down to the floor in a comic faint.

  “Take it off! Take it off!” Everyone was chanting and clapping in rhythm, even the girls. Mori, buoyed by the general hilarity, put his hands to the elastic waistband of his briefs and, coyly imitating the movements of a professional stripper, eased them down. Out of some remnant of modesty, however, he seemed unable to pull them completely off.

  “Don’t be such a coward!” shouted Kurita. “Off with them!”

  Everyone took up this cry, including Fumio. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Mori turned his back to the group and completed his strip show, tossing aside his briefs as he wagged his bare buttocks.

  “Not fair!” shouted Fumio. “Turn around and face the music!”

  “Hear! Hear!” said everyone.

  But when Mori complied, the girls all covered their eyes, shrieking. The boys, though, gazed thunderstruck at Mori’s penis. It was a huge one, so long and thick that it hung down heavily against his thigh. Fumio found himself riveted by the sight, feeling his face burn.

  “Amazing!” said Kurita. “You girls should get a good look at this and keep it branded in your memory, because you’re not likely to come across another one like it in your lifetime.”

  However, the girls kept their eyes covered, though one of them did brave a peek, only to quickly hide her face with a shriek. Harada and Kurita tried to force the girls’ hands away from their faces, but during the ensuing struggles, Mori shyly recovered his briefs and slipped them on again.

  Fumio was still stunned. From the beginning of the evening he had been intensely aware of the last time he’d seen Mori, when his friend had nearly confessed to being gay. Since then, Mori had lost a lot of weight, and could no longer be called chubby. In addition, he didn’t wear glasses anymore, having replaced them with contact lenses. His hair was cut more stylishly, and his clothes were quite fashionable. Was it possible that Mori was hitting the gay bars now, trying to pick up boys with his improved appearance?

  Harada came over to Fumio. “No wonder he took so long with that girl in the fashion health parlor,” he murmured. “With a dick like that, she probably didn’t want to let him go.”

  Fumio nodded, but didn’t trust himself to speak.

  The rock-paper-scissors game continued for a while after that, and though one of the girls was reduced to her bra and panties, she called it quits at that point, much to everyone’s disappointment. As for the boys, they now seemed shy about getting completely naked, no doubt feeling inadequate after seeing the size of Mori’s penis, and not wanting to risk any comparisons with him.

  It was two-thirty when the party finally broke up. By now the trains had stopped running of course, and the only way for most of them to get home was by taxi. Harada said he planned to stay in a capsule hotel and sleep off his drunkenness.

  After the group said their good nights in the street outside the party room, most of them headed off in the direction of the station, but Fumio pulled Mori aside.

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Mori? You look ready to fall asleep on your feet. Why don’t you come along with me?”

  “All right,” mumbled his friend.

  “But first I have to make a phone call.”

  Fumio found a public phone and called Seiko, letting her know he wouldn’t be coming home until much later.

  Then he returned to Mori, who was leaning drunkenly against the wall of a nearby building. “Here,” he said, “Put your arm around my shoulder.”

  He knew the area well from his days working at Genji, so he confidently steered Mori toward a nearby business hotel. There was no trouble at all with checking in. The clerk even helped Fumio get Mori up to their room and onto one of the twin beds. As soon as he’d left, Fumio sat down on the other bed and gazed at his friend. Gently he placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a shake.

  “Mori? Are you asleep?”

  The other only mumbled something in reply.

  Fumio felt his heart race. “Look, you’d better get under the covers before you catch a cold. Let me help you get undressed.”

  He turned Mori onto his back and unzipped his windbreaker, removing it. Next he unbuttoned the shirt, recalling the party game as he took it off, and then continued undressing Mori all the way down to his briefs.

  Fumio knew it was often hard to tell how well-endowed a man was just from seeing him in his underpants. As if to prolong the delicious treat awaiting him, he took his time pulling down the elastic waistband of the briefs. As the full length of the penis came into view, he felt his face burn.

  After gazing at it for a while, he gently ran a finger along its whole length, and when he got to the underside of the glans, felt the whole organ give a slight twitch. Glancing at Mori’s sleeping face, he continued his exploration, running his fingers down the smooth velvety skin of the shaft until his fingertips were resting against the balls. He nudged them slightly, feeling them roll lazily against each other.

  And then, wrapping his hand around the heavy shaft, he pulled the penis upright and began slowly stroking it. For a long time it remained flaccid, but at last, to his great delight, he felt it begin to stir. How big would it get when it was fully erect? At the mere thought of it, he felt his own penis stiffen into erection. With his free hand he touched the front of his pants. As the glans of Mori’s penis grew large and shiny, he leaned his mouth down so he could dribble a little saliva onto it. But his mouth was dry. He drew his face even closer so he could use his tongue and lips. The smell of semen coming up from the slit at the very tip made his head swim.

  And then Mori’s entire body stirred.

  “Fumio. What are you doing?” He was awake.

  Fumio froze. “I…. I just….”

  Mori sat up in bed, bringing his knees upright, hiding his genitals.

  Fumio felt unutterably embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help it.”

  “I know. No one seems to be able to resist touching it once he’s seen it.”
He leaned down to scoop his briefs up from the floor and slipped them on.

  Fumio remained frozen in place.

  “Relax,” said Mori. “I won’t tell anyone about this.”

  Fumio merely nodded in relief, unable to look his friend in the face. And then he began hesitantly, “You know…that time you came to my apartment. It must have taken a lot of guts for you to confess.”

  “Oh, that. Actually, I was quaking with fear inside. The moment I left your room, I thought my knees would give way beneath me.”

  “Still, you were a lot braver than me.”

  “Meaning…?”

  Fumio nodded. “Only I didn’t have the courage to admit it then.”

  Mori smiled happily. “I knew it! I just knew it somehow. But I was completely devastated when I thought I’d guessed wrongly. In those days I was dying to talk with someone who would understand.”

  “I just wasn’t ready yet.”

  “Who knows what might have happened if you’d had the guts? We might have been in a relationship by now. Unfortunately, it’s too late.”

  “You mean you have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  Fumio felt his heart sink. “Is it anyone I know?”

  Mori shook his head. “He’s a boy I was tutoring. In fact, I still am.”

  “A high school boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old?”

  “Sixteen. And don’t stare at me like that. It was he who made the first move. I was a complete virgin, but he’d been experienced since he was twelve. Can you believe it was he who seduced me?”

  “I’ll bet he’s really cute.”

  “All the girls in his school have a crush on him. But he fell in love with a nerd like me.”

  “You’re hardly a nerd anymore. You look really good.”

  “Thanks. But how about you, Fumio? Is there anyone in your life?”

  He shook his head, too ashamed to admit that he was married.

  “Well, don’t give up. There are so many good-looking boys out there just looking for someone. Why, if I could find a boyfriend, anyone can. And you’re so much more attractive than me.”

  “That’s not true. But thanks for the compliment.” Fumio thought of how different his life would have been if he’d only had the courage to confess when Mori had. “So what do we do now?” he asked weakly.

  “I think we should take separate taxis home. Staying overnight in this hotel would be risking temptation too much. And I don’t want to cheat on Toshi. Sorry, I just can’t help mentioning his name.”

  “Well, Toshi is certainly a lucky boy.” Fumio paused. “Can I ask you a very personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “When you and Toshi….” Fumio blushed, unable to go on.

  “I know what you want to ask. And the answer is: he’s the one who wears the pants in our relationship. I’m strictly a sister.” Mori grinned. “You’re probably thinking ‘what a waste,’ right?”

  Fumio shook his head in denial, but it was true: just the thought of being rammed in the butt by Mori’s huge dick made his belly squirm with excitement.

  23

  Fumio enjoyed his job as a juku teacher. It wasn’t very different from tutoring individual pupils, except that he had to stand in front of a classroom of ten to twelve children. He was the only part-timer among seven full-time teachers: two taught Japanese, two taught math, and the others covered English. In addition, there was Mr. Kameya, the juku manager, and two young women who took care of administrative work.

  Fumio taught mathematics, and came to work three days a week—on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from four in the afternoon to ten at night. Each class was two hours long, with a ten-minute break in between. He tutored sixth-graders who were studying to enter private middle schools.

  The juku had been established a mere three years ago, on the second floor of a newly-constructed office building near the station. There was enough space for an administration room, a waiting lounge for parents, and four classrooms, all spacious and well lit by large windows. The floor just below was a convenience store where, naturally enough, the students went to buy snacks during their breaks.

  Though Fumio was merely a part-timer for now, Akiyoshi had privately informed Mr. Kameya that his protégé would someday become a manager at another juku.

  From where he stood in front of the blackboard, Fumio could see the orange Chuo Line train passing by, packed with salarymen returning home from work. He stifled a yawn as he glanced at his watch. It was already past ten o’clock. No wonder he was tired. He shut his textbook and several children looked up.

  “We’re out of time, everyone. Finish up those problems at home and show them to me next time.”

  The children began putting away their books and saying good-bye to each other. As always, there were one or two who wanted to remain even longer, to study until their eyes could no longer stay open. Fumio went to his desk in the administration room and put his teaching materials away. A couple of the other teachers were still working at their desks. They nodded their good-byes to him as he headed out.

  When he got home, he rang the bell and Seiko came to greet him at the front door. The professor hadn’t returned yet. Seiko’s mother was watching TV in the living room waiting up for her husband. The younger couple went upstairs where Fumio changed out of his suit as Seiko stood by with the yukata in her hands, ready to hand it to him. When he was changed, they both went downstairs for dinner.

  She had prepared a Japanese meal tonight, and though she’d already eaten, she sat with him at the table to serve him. Tonight, Seiko’s mother joined them as well, and when she saw that the small TV on the cooking counter was on, she frowned.

  “When I was young, a wife would never watch television while her husband was eating.”

  “Mother, when you were young, there was no television—at least not in every household.”

  “Well, the radio, then. Anyway, how can you pay enough attention to Fumio-san’s needs with one eye on the TV screen? A wife should always anticipate her husband’s needs, take his rice bowl to refill it without his even asking. Heaven help me if I had behaved with your father as you do. He certainly would have lost no time in putting me in my place.”

  “I’m surprised,” said Fumio. “Sensei always seems so gentle and forgiving.”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” said Seiko. “Father has changed. He seems so happy now because you’re in the house, but he wasn’t always like this. To me, he was the strict disciplinarian at all times. Wasn’t he, Mother?”

  The older woman merely smiled without answering.

  “Father dotes on you,” Seiko went on, to Fumio. “He does everything you ask. Take the car, for instance. Supposedly it was a gift for both of us, but I know that you happened to mention one day how much you liked the design of the new Volvo. And what happens? He goes to the Volvo dealer the very next day and picks one out in your favorite color.”

  Fumio had been at pains to have the professor tone down his outward signs of affection for him, but apparently to no effect. “You seem to like the car, too,” he said weakly.

  “Oh, I do. But I also know that if I had asked him on my own, he would never have bought it.”

  “Seiko,” her mother remonstrated.

  “But it’s true!” She turned to Fumio. “And my eyes, too. If it hadn’t been for you, Father would never have allowed me to have the operation. But he listened to you and relented.”

  Fumio knew she was only voicing a long-held grudge, but she’d never gotten this worked up before.

  “Sensei might seem a little gruff sometimes,” he said, “but that’s a parent’s prerogative, isn’t it? All in all, I find him a very kind man.”

  “To you, maybe. But then he always wanted a son. I sensed it even when I was a little girl. Maybe that’s why I became so rebellious.”

  Fumio smiled. “You, rebellious? I find that hard to believe.”

  “But I was. An
d I was punished for the least little thing, too. One time he even used a bamboo cane on me. In fact, Father was so strict that my friends were afraid to come over because of his constant scolding. I was so ashamed.”

  In his mind, Fumio was contrasting Seiko’s picture of the stern patriarch with the fawning lover he knew.

  “Seiko,” said her mother. “Your father comes from an old-fashioned family who were traditionalists to the core. But you’ll find, as you get older, that that is the best way. The old ways, tried and true, are always the best in the end.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She thrust out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

  Her mother went on a bit more gently. “Fathers must be strict with their daughters. That’s the way things are. A daughter must make a good wife, otherwise it will reflect badly on her upbringing. What will her future husband say if she turns out to be willful? But sons are different. Boys must be allowed all the freedom they can, because someday they will be the breadwinners and have to support their families. It’s a tough life for the men, you know. In any case, you’ll find out when you have children of your own that it’s no easy job to raise them.”

  “If we ever have a child,” said Seiko, “I want a girl. And I’m giving her all the freedom she wants.”

  “How about you, Fumio-san?” said her mother. “Do you prefer a boy or a girl?”

  He scratched his head. “Either one is all right with me.”

  The mention of children depressed him. Recently, everything seemed to be conspiring against him, trapping him into society’s mesh: marriage, children, a job: responsibility after responsibility....

  “You don’t look so well, Fumio-san.”

  He realized with a start that he’d been gazing blankly at the TV screen all this time.

  “No, Mother, I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired from work.”

  “Why don’t you take a bath to relax?”

  “I think I will.”

  “Seiko, what are you dawdling for? Are the futons set out upstairs? Go on.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Her reply, though dutiful, had a slight tinge of daughterly sarcasm in it.