by Luna Zega
Table of Contents
Tokyo Tease
Copyright
Dedication
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Tokyo Tease
About the Author
Also Available
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press, Inc. publication.
Tokyo Tease
by
Luna Zega
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Tokyo Tease
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Luna Zega
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, March 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-839-4
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Kevin for his faith in me
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Luna Zega
AND HER BOOKS
TOKYO TEASE
"Tokyo Tease is a totally fun, sexy and very hot romp. Every woman will identify with Natalie and fall in love with her story. Want to feel good? Feel sexy? Take a fantasy trip? Then this is definitely the story for you."
~Desiree Holt, author of Out of Control
"Taking this sexy ride will leave readers panting for more. Zega has her fingertips on the pulse of her fans and knows what makes them hot."
~Velda Brotherton, author
"Tokyo Tease delivers sensual shiatsu with the right amount of pressure and release!"
~Linda Joyce, author
Tokyo Tease
I’d been living in an apartment with an oversexed pilot in Shakujii-kōen for close to a year. Dildos littering the bathroom vanity and lubricant on the kitchen counter weren’t new, but waking up to two hot, buff, naked men in my living room came as a bit of a surprise. From the articles of clothing strewn about the room, I deduced they were U.S.Marines.
My roommate, Jenn, had come in around two a.m., but she’d kept it quiet, so I had no idea she still had guests.
“Ohayou gozaimasu—good morning,” I muttered as I darted past them to the kitchen. My face flamed so hot, I could’ve cooked breakfast on it. Even with my fast retreat from the living room, I noticed the men sprawled on the tatami-mat floor—defined muscles, flat abs, and strong thighs.
Coffee. I needed coffee. Not green tea or Oolong cha. A strong, dark Columbian blend—kind of like one of those guys in the living room. I splashed some cold water on my face and ground the beans. While the pot brewed, I toasted an English muffin.
A deep, bass voice startled me. “Hey, baby. The coffee smells great.”
Both men stepped into the kitchen. Naked. But that didn’t surprise me. Jenn’s friends could never be accused of modesty.
“I’m Sanchez,” the tall, bronze-skinned, chiseled stud introduced himself.
“I’m Ramon,” the even taller, ebony-skinned, sculpted stallion said. “You must be the roommate. Jenn said you were a looker.”
That was doubtful. A five foot two inches, ninety-three pound blonde, Jenn had a tight ass and the best breasts money could buy. A real stunner. Everyone’s beauty paled in comparison.
“I’m Natalie. Nice to meet you both.” I grabbed a couple of mugs from the shelf and poured coffee for them. “Cream? Sugar?” Playing hostess to nude Marines strayed from my norm, but manners were manners.
“Baby, only sugar I need is you.” Ramon stepped toward me.
A look of fear or shock or something akin to panic must have flashed across my face because Sanchez grabbed Ramon’s arm. “Dude, give the girl a chance to enjoy her coffee before you pounce,” he said in a silky smooth voice.
With a weak smile, I stepped back but hit the counter. Casually, I propped against it, like I meant to be plastered to its side. I really wanted to munch down on my English muffin but couldn’t bring myself to pick it up.
Chunky girls should never eat in front of men. My mother’s voice haunted me.
“Would y’all like something to eat? I could make eggs or something.” I asked nonchalantly as if cooking for strange naked men was something I always did.
Funny how the day before I’d been turned down for a hostess job, and here I was doing just that. Although serving coffee wasn’t the kind of hostessing the fat guy at the Yakuza-run bar had in mind. Sure, I needed another job. Needed to earn enough money to get my own apartment. To move away from Jenn’s nightly orgies. In an act of desperation, I had applied for a hostess job. I shook my head to wipe away the memories of the embarrassing interview.
Ramon smiled. “Baby, are we making you nervous?”
With one hand, Sanchez lifted his coffee cup to his perfectly bowed mouth and ran his fingers along his abs with the other. I couldn’t decide which miracle of nature to focus on.
Ramon saw my reaction and chuckled. “You want some action, don’t you, sweetheart?”
I cleared my throat. My ability to speak surprised me. Without croaking or stammering I said, “I’m admiring the view. That doesn’t mean I want to fuck it.” I set my empty cup on the counter. “Why are you two in the living room by yourselves anyway? Where’s Jenn?”
My answer came few seconds later when Jenn walked into the kitchen with a scrawny, white guy. She ran her hands across Ramon’s and Sanchez’s stomachs as she sashayed to the coffee pot. “Morning, Natalie.” She kissed my cheek.
“Morning, Jenn.”
“This is Brent,” she introduced the guy. “I see you’ve already met Ramon and Sanchez.”
I nodded an acknowledgement to Brent. I studied the men. Or should I say I studied the gods and the man. Why on earth would Jenn be hanging out with the wormy looking guy when she could have had perfection? My puzzlement must have been evident because Jenn turned to Ramon. “Show her why, okay? I need a shower.” She left me in the kitchen with the three men
“Gladly.” Ramon placed his cup on the table and wrapped his huge hand around Brent’s cock. “You’ve got to see this,” he said to me.
Unsure what to do, I stood with my back to the counter and watched. Men stroking each other’s cocks was not part of my morning routine.
Jenn’s? Yes.
Mine? No way.
My god, it was hot. The contrast of Ramon’s dark skin against Brent’s white cock made my knees buckle. My nipples puckered and strained against the lace of my bra. Tingles ran down my spine and concentrated in my pussy.
I glanced at Sanchez. He stood against the door frame, sipping coffee and watching Ramon. His dick rested against his leg, but it slowly came to life, twitching and enlarging. A glance at Ramon showed his cock’s response as well.
I watched Ramon’s hand glide up and down Brent’s shaft. For a second, I tore my eyes away and glanced at Brent. Upon closer inspection, I realized he was handsome in his own right. Sure, he wasn’t brown and buff like the other men, but he had a lean, runner’s build and dark hair covered his chest.
With a wide grin, Brent winked at me. “It’s worth the wait, darling. I promise.”
Ramon licked his palm and continued pumping his hand along the length of the man’s shaft.
With each stroke, my heart beat faster. My puss
y dripped and flooded my panties. I wasn’t sure what turned me on more, watching a man pleasure another man or being surrounded by three aroused men. There wasn’t enough blood left in my brain to analyze the situation.
“Yo, Ramon, dude.” Brent grabbed Ramon’s wrist. “We’re just supposed to show the lady, not get me off.”
A deep chuckle filled the room. “Sorry, man. Got carried away.”
With one last caress, Ramon ran his smooth black hand from base to tip of Brent’s cock. The biggest I had ever seen.
“Oh, my.” My breath caught in my throat.
“Pretty impressive, huh?” Sanchez asked. “Check out the tatt.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I had to see. The sheer enormity of Brent’s cock overwhelmed me, so it took a second to focus on the fact we were all standing in the kitchen watching Ramon bring Brent to his turgid state. Once I finally noticed the very elaborate Japanese symbol tattooed on Brent’s shaft, I had to process what it meant.
“You have the kanji symbol for penis tattooed on your penis?” I glanced up and looked him in the eyes—pretty blue—for the first time. “Did you think people wouldn’t figure out what it was without the identifier?”
Sanchez and Ramon laughed. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to tell what it is, ain’t it?”
Brent shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He smiled at me. Pretty blue eyes, radiant smile, and a Godzilla-size cock. No wonder Jenn was hanging out with him instead of the studly Marines. “So, baby, interested in feeling it stretch your pussy?”
I gasped. No one ever talked to me that way. The crudeness shocked and aroused me. Fortunately, Jenn showed up before I gave into temptation. God, was I tempted.
“Don’t even bother.” Jenn walked into the room, hair wet and silk robe clinging to her perfect body. “She has a thing for a guy at work. And she’s a good girl.”
“Damn, that’s too bad.” Ramon ran his hand along his throbbing manhood. “I’m ready to go again, and I like women with meat on their bones.” He leaned against the wall and smiled as he cupped his balls and stroked his shaft. “Jenn?”
“No, baby. You fucked me too hard, and I need a break. Have a go with Brent.”
With a smile, Ramon took Brent’s hand and lead him into the living room.
Blood pounding, cunt dripping, nipples tingling, I needed relief, but I was already running late for work. Jenn would notice if I tried to sneak back into my room. She would never allow me to pleasure myself in private. She’d make it a big ol’ love fest. With a sigh, I placed my mug in the sink and headed toward the genkan—the entry.
“Are you going to the train station?” Sanchez asked.
I nodded.
“Great. Give me sec, and I’ll walk with you.”
When Sanchez opened the door into the living room, Brent’s moans filtered into the entry. He was obviously enjoying himself. Oh, how I wanted to take a peek, to see the action, but I didn’t have the guts.
Clothes in hand, Sanchez shut the door and returned to the genkan. I watched as he covered his muscled chest and tried to button his pants over his erection.
“Tight squeeze, but I’ll be okay by the time we get to the station.” He held the door for me and waited as I grabbed my briefcase and purse.
Gorgeous and a gentleman.
I liked to spend the twenty-minute walk to the train station in thought, clearing my mind before going to work. Impossible when all the blood in my body pulsated in my pussy.
“So, you have a thing for some guy at work, huh?” Sanchez smiled.
“Yeah, but he’s way out of my league.”
“Guys don’t have leagues. We’ll screw anyone.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I tried to ignore the punch to my gut. Images of my humiliating interview danced through my head. How could I be stupid enough to think any man would want me as a hostess? This was Japan, for God’s sake. I wasn’t petite, blonde, or perky. The fat pimp at the bar didn’t care about my fluent Japanese. The pity on his face nauseated me. Everyone knew Japanese men wanted dainty Western women. Western men wanted willowy Japanese women. A year in Japan had yielded me, Natalie James, a big fat zip in the date department.
“So, what about this guy does it for you?” Sanchez pulled me from my thoughts.
As we walked past the odd only-in-Japan combination of cabbage fields and suburban homes, I explained. “I’m not sure exactly. He’s tall, attractive. His hair is so thick and black it shines blue in the sunlight. When he laughs, my toes curl. He smiled at me once in the canteen, and I thought I’d pass out.”
“Smiles are good. That means he likes you.”
“Well, I don’t think he was actually smiling at me, maybe at the woman standing next to me, but it was in my general direction.”
“Ha! You’re funny.” Sanchez’s strode much faster than I, and I struggled to keep pace. He noticed my heavy panting and slowed. “What do you talk about?”
Fifteen minutes stretched between me and the train station. There was no way to outrun the guy, so I figured I’d go ahead and talk. Might as well take advantage of the male perspective. “Nothing.”
He stopped and turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think he knows who I am.”
“How long have you worked together?”
“About a year.”
“Then, trust me, baby, he’s noticed you.”
“Yep. A year. And he hasn’t talked to me. So, woohoo, he’s noticed me and doesn’t like what he sees.”
“Baby…” It felt nice being called such a sweet endearment. I didn’t care that he was using one because he probably couldn’t remember my name. I’d take it. “You’re very noticeable. Especially around all these skinny chicks.”
He should have just hit me in the stomach. It wouldn’t have hurt nearly as badly. Fat pimp guy’s laughter filled my head. “Japanese man want skinny blonde. You fat, like sumo. No one want you.”
I couldn’t stop it. Tears filled my eyes. I clenched my jaw, hoping to stop their flow and trudged forward. Sanchez grabbed my arm, “Baby, stop.”
“My name’s Natalie,” I said, no longer appreciative of the endearment.
“I know, Natalie.” He pulled my arm, making me stop. “I hurt your feelings. That’s not what I meant. I meant you have some pretty damn spectacular curves and most women around here are sticks.”
“Yep. I’ve got curves.” I shrugged free and started walking.
“Goddammit, ba—Natalie, stop!” His adamancy shocked me, and I halted. He put his hand on my face. “You’re hot. The guy at work has noticed you, and I can assure you, he’s pictured you naked.” He chuckled when I blushed. “If you like him, talk to him. He could be shy.”
I shook my head. Kentaro wasn’t shy, but I appreciated Sanchez’s attempt to buoy my spirits. “Thanks.”
We continued our stroll past the pachinko parlors and ramen shops that crowded the entrance to the station. Unlike Shinjuku and Shibuya, the Shakujii-kōen Station wasn’t wall-to-wall people on the platform. I glanced at the crowd of commuters and gasped in surprise. I couldn’t believe what I saw and dared another glance.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s him. Over there in the blue suit. It’s Kentaro.” The pit of my stomach gripped in excitement.
“The guy from work?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen him here before.”
“He’s looking over here. Smile at him.”
“No. He doesn’t know who am I in the office. Why would he recognize me out of context?”
“This is your chance. Smile at him. Chat him up. Make him interact with you outside the familiar setting.”
“You’re insane.” The idea held appeal, but the fat pimp’s words still stung and I couldn’t take another rejection.
“He’s still looking.” Sanchez grabbed my arm and pushed me against the ticket machine. “This will show him.” His hard, muscled body pinned me. His perfect bow mouth lowered to mi
ne, and he took me with a rough gotta-have-you-now kiss. Entwined tongues and burning desire. He held me so close I could feel his cock harden.
Having seen him naked earlier, I’d already admired his abs and watched as he stuffed a dildo-model dick into those jeans. I kind of forgot where I was. Within seconds, I moaned and wrapped my leg around his hip so I could feel his cock grind against my tingling cunt.
Sanchez pulled back. “Whoa, Natalie. Save it for your office boy.”
“Who?”
He laughed and glanced around. “Office Boy is still watching. Trust me, he’ll remember who you are after our little show.” With a wink, he turned me around, patted my ass and sent me toward the train platform.
I didn’t get it. If I’d seen a guy I liked making out with some woman, I’d think they were a couple and back off. Then again, Sanchez had just spent the night with the hottest blonde chick in Tokyo, a smoking hot black dude, and a white man with the biggest cock I’d ever seen. Maybe he knew what he was talking about.
Trying to cool my lust, I straightened my skirt and joined the queue on the train platform. What a way to spend the morning!
Without looking, I knew when Kentaro stepped behind me. I recognized his scent and the familiar warmth that overcame me every time I was in his presence.
The crush of commuters crammed onto the express train—the nonstop from Shakujii-kōen to Shinjuku, a twenty minute trip.
As the train doors closed, I found myself smashed with my back to the door and Kentaro smooshed against me. We were crowded in the train, unable to move. My fellow commuters had their backs to me, but he stood directly in front of me.
Should I make eye contact? Acknowledge him? Why bother?
All doubts that he knew my identity vanished when he touched my hip.
My heart stopped.
Riding on the trains and subways of Japan had taught me one thing. No matter how many orgasms you had from dry humping the briefcase of the guy in front of you, you did not touch. Even if you had to ride forty-five minutes with some short Japanese man glued to your cleavage, there was nothing intimate about it. Unless you were a chikan, a pervert, you kept your hands to yourself.