The subway train disgorged her commuters at nine pm, and they all hurried away into the Tokyo night. Some half ran and others were more cautious, but all were anxious to ensure that there would be as many minutes as possible between their arrival home and rising to recommence the daily grind the next day. Amongst that Tokyo crowd, some wrestled with the stresses of the day. Some thought of the children waiting for them at home. Many headed straight to the drinking dens.

Others, including Mamoru, our hero, went straight home, anxious to retreat from the tedium of work and the crushing anonymity of the megacity into their own private world. Mamoru was a salaryman of twenty-five. He wore his suit six days a week. His parents and his married sister lived in distant Hiroshima. He was quite alone in the big city. Unlike many, Mamoru liked it that way.

Arriving back at his flat at around ten pm, Mamoru cooked ramen noodles and then took a shower. He had bought lubricant for the evening as a birthday treat. Wearing just his bathrobe, he sat down at his desk, turned on the computer and poured a large glass of sake. He’d make the best of this quiet night in…he had a ticket to the sumo the next night.

When he had accessed the pornography site, he browsed his old history. Let’s see, bukkake…sweet college girl…threesome…no. Tonight, he decided to try something new. Anal? No, he wasn’t in the mood for rough stuff. Blowjob? No, too…predictable. What about…interracial?

Mamoru flicked through various Japanese women being screwed by white guys and black guys with huge cocks. He recognized many of the girls, in fact…no, it wasn’t doing it for him. Then, a video popped up.

“Desi babe serves her master at the temple!”

He clicked on that.

An Indian woman, no more than twenty, knelt before the screen. It was shot from the man’s point of view. She undid the guy’s pants and pulled them down. A penis popped out. The young woman had one of those dots on her forehead, and a beautiful chain necklace. There was, indeed, a Hindu temple in the background. The woman had brown eyes like saucers. Her hair was long, black and luxurious and Mamoru’s eyes were drawn to her brown skin. Her sari was red and gold. She looked like a princess! Mamoru stared…she was beautiful!

The woman took the penis in her hand and began to rub it, then she put it into her mouth. Mamoru was rubbing his cock now, rubbing it as the girl’s tongue rubbed and tickled the glans of the actor in the film. He grew harder, and now, as the girl began to pull the penis deeper into her mouth and the actor gave a few heavy breaths, Mamoru was able to jerk his cock. He squirted some lubricant onto his dick, then he closed his eyes and imagined that the temple servant girl was sucking him off. He consciously used his left hand to add to the effect.

“Happy birthday, master!” he imagined her saying. From the computer, the sounds of the dick being sucked filled the air, the slurps, the gasps and the intake and exhalation of air. With his eyes closed and his left hand jerking his wet cock, Mamoru could almost believe that he really was being blown. Oh, it felt so good. Oh, he needed a real girlfriend! Sixty seconds later, he could wait no more. He jerked hard and fast and then his cum burst out, and it was hot and felt like a release.

Mamoru spent the rest of the evening reading about India and drinking. What was that dot on the forehead? What was actually in the karma sutra? Apart from the famous Taj Mahal, what else was there to see? He watched women belly dancing on YouTube, entranced by their sashaying navels and the glimpses of thigh through their saris. He looked up festivals.

By one am, quite drunk, he was back on the pornography site.  His eyes were drooping now, and through blurry eyes, he saw a dark-skinned woman of the subcontinent naked and on her back. She too had a dot on her forehead, and he now knew that meant she was married. The woman had her eyes closed, but, like any married woman worth her salt, she knew how to take a cock and had lifted her legs high into the air. Mamoru was jerking off for the second time in three hours, jerking while looking at those beautiful brown breasts that spoke of exoticism and eros…

When he awoke the next day, Mamoru had a sore head and a sore dick, but he also had a new sense of purpose. Mamoru had decided that he was going to India the next chance he got. He would leave, even if just temporarily, the shackles of his dull job to see the famous Taj, to see the flesh on a young dancer’s belly jiggle and, hopefully, to see that strange red dot hovering around his cock like a laser beam as an unsuspecting Indian’s wife knelt before him to suck his Japanese cock, a penis that would be as exotic to her as her sutra-schooled tongue would be to him.

                                                                        *

When imagining his trip to India, Mamoru pictured himself sitting in the front row of the belly dancing show. He imagined himself in an establishment rather like a strip club as a procession of beauties shook their flesh inches from his eyes. So, he quickly found a place and set out from his hotel to see the show.

But, when the moment came to pay his entry fee and enter, awkwardness and shyness possessed him. Somehow, he felt an innate embarrassment about entering an establishment so obviously designed to titillate. Mamoru had never discussed his sexual desires with another living soul and the habit was so ingrained that even stepping into a theatre when there was no chance of someone that he knew seeing him, he couldn’t do it.

Perhaps it would help if he was further from his hotel? He took a short bus ride to another theatre and had a beer outside. This time, the alcohol emboldened Mamoru and he went in, although he still fumbled furtively for his money at the booth.

Inside, he saw how silly he had been. He had imagined he was going into something like a seedy strip club, but there were families with kids there! It wasn’t like the belly dancers in Japan at all. The music was fun and energetic, and when the dancers came out, they wore the smiles of women dancing for pleasure, not for the titillation of lonely men. Sipping another beer, Mamoru relaxed and enjoyed fixing his eyes on the swerving bellies of the girls. He enjoyed trying to make eye contact with them and letting his eyes wander from navel to navel…

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Mamoru started at the voice speaking close to him. He turned. There was a Caucasian man standing next to his table. He had addressed Mamoru in English.

“Eh…yes. Yes, beautiful.”

“I could watch them all day.”

“Yes.”

“But if you do that, of course, you never get to touch.”

Mamoru smiled and acknowledged this.

“If you’d like…a bit more, we could move on to a…less reputable establishment?”

Mamoru took this in. It took a second to realise what the man meant. His eyes widened.

“I’m not working here,” the man jumped in, sensing Mamoru’s doubts.

“I’m a tourist and I’m looking for a… wingman. Someone to go out with and…”

“Find girls!”

“Yes!”

Mamoru laughed. He had once read that, in most stories, the hero meets a mentor who guides him into the new world. Perhaps this man was his mentor! He offered his hand, and learned the man’s name was Edward.

“Are you ready to split? We can grab a beer and then go get…”

“Shhhhh!” Their talk was annoying the other punters. The manager appeared at the table, looking annoyed.

“Keep quiet or clear off!” he growled.

Mamoru and Edward rose to leave, Mamoru half erect already at the thought of what was coming next.

                                                                        *

They took in a few drinks at a run-down bar. Edward told Mamoru that he knew a place where they could pay to get laid, but that he should use protection as the risk of disease was high.

“We’ll go in for an hour. What we pay these girls, it’s a good wage for them. But for us, with our currency, it’s nothing! We can go every night! We can have two girls at once. Anything we want!”

Mamoru laughed, but he began to wonder if his heart was really in going night after night. He wanted to have sex of course, but he didn’t want to be a sex tourist. Those guys were just sad and weird. Nevertheless, Mamoru was glad he had met Edward. Without a wingman, he wasn’t sure he’d have had the confidence to go into a brothel.

At last, fortified by drink, Mamoru followed his new friend to the red-light district. Casting his eyes around the streets, he saw many, many homeless beggars, and felt a twinge of guilt at his affluent journey to this exotic country.

“It’s just here. On the second floor,” said Edward, who hadn’t seemed to notice the poverty around him. Mamoru was surprised. He’d imagined a doorway into an office or a bar with a red light hanging at the door.

The stairs up to the brothel seemed to go on forever and, with each step, Mamoru found himself fighting an urge to turn back. 

‘Do you really want to be the guy that pays for it?’ he asked himself mentally.

‘Yeah, but I have needs, you know, and I won’t hurt anyone,’ a part of him replied.

At last, they were at the entrance. There was an unsmiling, wiry little bouncer at the door.

“You want girls?” he said coldly.

“Yes,” said Edward, “Two girls, one each.”

“One thousand rupees. And no penetration.”

“No penetration?” Edward wailed, “What do we get?”

The bouncer made a flicking motion with his tongue. Edward looked at Mamoru, who nodded.

They handed over their money.

“You,” he indicated Edward, “Room one. And your friend, room two. Go.”

They walked down the corridor together past rooms labelled from ten downwards to where their rooms were. Mamoru strained his ears to hear if he could hear what was going on in the other rooms, but he could not. At last, they came to their allocated spots.

“Well, here goes. Enjoy!” Edward said, smiling, and disappeared through door number one.

Mamoru pushed open the door. The room was dark, and the curtains were closed. The only light came from a single, wan bulb. There was a young woman sitting on a stool, sewing. She looked up. She was about Mamoru’s age. Her skin was dark, even for India, and her hair was plaited and ran down her back. She wore a sari tied around her waist that finished above her ankles, and a matching cloth that showed her belly but covered her breasts around her upper torso. Her umbilical cord, he saw, had been inexpertly cut, for her belly button stuck out a little.  

“Hello, master,” she said, “How can I serve you today?”

“I would like to…to…have…” Mamoru’s confidence failed him, and he stuttered to silence.

“Perhaps master would like to see my body?”

Mamoru nodded. The girl turned a dial on an old radio and some music began. The girl bade Mamoru sit on the bed, then she began to sway her hips gently, sashaying away from Mamoru then back towards him, twirling her waist, shaking her belly. Mamoru was hypnotized by her. His eyes roved from the slip of thigh the sari revealed to her navel and then her beautiful face.

The girl had danced for about three minutes when, with a flourish that must have taken a lot of practice to master, she moved her hand to her back and whipped off the cloth that covered her breasts. Mamoru’s eyes widened at the sight of her upper torso, at her black skin, at the way her breasts jiggled as she danced. He was not prepared for what she did next. She moved up close to him, gently put the cloth around the back of his head and then pulled his face up to her breasts. He couldn’t help himself. He kissed them, and now he could smell her body, his cock came to life. It swelled up in his trousers. This was far hotter than he’d imagined a trip to a brothel, which he’d assumed would be seedy and perfunctory, would be!

“Do you like my body, master?”

“Yes!”

“Would master care to be undressed?”

He nodded.

She knelt down, seized the hem of his t-shirt, and pulled it up. He raised his arms so she could remove it. Then she kissed his torso all the way down, and when she reached his trousers, she gently undid the button and unzipped them. A squirm from Mamoru helped them and his underpants came down.

“Master is big!” she said.

‘I bet you say that to all the guys!’ he thought, but then she continued,

“I am impressed by master’s cock. It is very nice. Very big and clean. Not like an Indian man’s. Especially a Hindu man’s. I am always happy to serve a circumcised cock!”

Mamoru couldn’t help but giggle at this.

“Indian men aren’t circumcised?” he asked, curious.

“The Muslim ones are. The Hindu ones are not. But all are smaller than master’s. Master’s is like a sausage next to a grain of rice. And, as you know, we Indians love rice, but not cocks the size of rice.”

Mamoru laughed out loud. He’d never imagined a girl would laugh and flirt with him in a place like this. He felt her take his cock in his hand and begin to jerk it, then she let a dripple of saliva run onto the tip. He looked down as she gave it a flick with her tongue, which was pink and looked odd to him against her dark black skin.

“Hey...what’s your name?” he asked, but as he did, she plunged downwards, and he felt his penis tingle as if electrified. Mamoru gasped. She did the same again, then let go.

“Preema. It means ‘gift from God.’”

“You were well named!”

She smiled, and he now saw her teeth were crooked, which was sweet but also a little sad. He guessed her family had not been able to afford or obtain braces for her.

Preema went back down on him, giving Mamoru three strong sucks. He moaned.

“Are you Muslim or Hindu?” he asked.

“Hindu. I can only marry within the faith, and my virginity will be checked on my wedding night, so I can only pleasure master with my mouth.”

“That’s why there’s no penetration!” he cried.

She nodded and combined that nod with another mighty suck that pulled his cock up so hard it almost hurt.

“Ohhhh!”

“Master likes that?”

“Yes! Yes!” Mamoru needed something to hold onto. His cock was approaching the point where polite conversation would not be possible. He reached down and put his hand on her head…

“Master, please, no. The hair is not touched in my country.”

He let go, but said nothing, he couldn’t have if he wanted to because she went back down again, and Mamoru was on the brink of orgasm now. He reached back and grabbed the flesh of his own neck, and then there was another suck.

“Faster, master? Or you prefer to delay?”

“Faster, please! I’m so close!”

She looked up and into his eyes for the first time as she let a dribble of saliva out onto his rock-hard and trembling cock, then she was back down and there were one – two -three strong sucks. “Oh…oh…oh…iku! Iku!”

In his ecstasy, Mamoru forgot himself and reverted back to his native tongue, and Preema’s native tongue emerged from her mouth awash with his cum.

“Would master like to watch me swallow?”

Mamoru, breathing hard and not really concentrating, nodded.

She opened her mouth and arched her neck back. Mamoru saw his semen running down her tongue in a long rivulet and, when it disappeared, she swallowed.

“I’d be pleased to serve master again, if he desires. Perhaps…privately? If master has a hotel, he need only tell me where and I’ll find him?” said Preema.

Dumbly, Mamoru wrote down the address of his hotel and room. He assumed he’d be paying a higher rate the next time, but that was just fine, especially if she could keep all the money and not split it with that seedy little man. Mamoru bowed to Preema, then scuttled out.

                                                                        *

Mamoru didn’t forget Preema, but when she didn’t show up at the hotel for five days, he assumed she’d just fed him a line and had no intention of coming. He had a great time, though. He saw temples and dances and drank a lot with Edward. He explored the city and some surrounding villages. And he jerked off a lot.

On the Friday of that week, he had been to a monkey sanctuary and a big market. He’d walked a long way and was tired, so he didn’t go out with Edward. He decided on a quiet night in to catch up with his diary.

At nine o’clock, the doorbell rang. Frowning, he got up. Who could that be, he wondered? Edward? But he’d seen him just hours ago, they’d said goodbye. Surely not…

Preema stood there in a black dress with a handbag. She smiled, those crooked teeth gleaming white.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello, who? Hello master?” Mamoru said teasingly, rapidly mastering his surprise.

“Hello, unusual client who treated me like an actual human being and who has the nicest cock I’ve seen,” she said, giggling.

“It’s Mamoru!”

“Mamoru, I’ve brought the kit for a very special service. It’s half-price for you. Would you like to try it? It’s called the Holi kit.”

“That’s the festival? Of colours?”

“Yes. Normally, nine thousand rupees but for you, four thousand five hundred.”

“Thanks. Why the discount?”

“You treated me with respect. And I like your body. I wasn’t joking when I said I like your cock.”

Mamoru’s mouth opened, stunned.

Preema shook her head then said, “Just because I’m a sex worker doesn’t mean I don’t feel normal sexual desire for guys, you know. I like some male bodies, some penises,” then she laughed. Mamoru shook his head. Preema added,

“And this time, you’ll be trying something different.”

“Penetration?” he said, hopefully.

“Kinda,” she said and, with a coy smile, Preema patted her bottom. Mamoru froze. He’d never imagined trying that.

“You’d be helping me,” she said matter-of-factly, taking him by the hand and squeezing it. “I need to make all the money I can. Three hundred rupees will pay my family rent for a month.”

“So, you don’t mind doing it? For money, I mean?”

“No. It’s better than begging. So, are you in?”

He nodded. He took the money out of his wallet and handed it to her. She pocketed it discreetly.

“Great! I was hoping you’d say that! But…condom, please, ok?”

He nodded, and they stepped into the room together and closed the door. Preema turned and stood inches from him.

“Kiss me,” she said.

Mamoru leant forward and put his lips to hers, but it was just a peck that he gave her before he withdrew.

“Kiss me like you mean it, I’m not your sister!” Preema grumbled.

Hesitantly, Mamoru leaned in and closed his lips onto her bottom lip, and then he felt her tongue pushing at his teeth and then they were kissing passionately as their mutual physical and personal attraction burst out. Mamoru felt her hands caress his body as if she really meant it, and he ran his hands across her back and bottom and she was breathing hard now and he had grown hard and he marveled at the power of biological lust, that two people from such different lives could have such an effect on each other’s bodies.

She ended the kiss and held his gaze inches from her face. The contrast, Mamoru realized, between their first meeting was striking. In the brothel, he had been the rich client and she had been the serving wench. Here, it was much closer to a meeting of equals and the atmosphere was far more relaxed as a result.

“You know, because of my family, my caste and my profession, they call me untouchable,” she said in a voice barely a whisper. Mamoru saw there was the hint of a tear in her eye.

There was an exquisite moment of silence.

“I’ll touch you,” Mamoru whispered back.

Preema’s dress came off, and she was not wearing a bra. She wasted no time in sliding her panties down. Mamore looked over her now naked body for a moment, took off his t-shirt and shorts and then, impulsively, he took her in his arms and held her for a moment, as if he were hugging an old friend. He breathed in her scent, and he realized that now he was smelling her as she really should smell, not overly perfumed as she was at work. He was getting the real woman. She didn’t smell like Japanese girls did, but she had a pleasant, sweet smell.

He felt her hands caress his bottom through his underwear. His cock stiffened, so he reached down and pulled it out. Her hands were straight on it. He reached for her genitals, but she said no.

“Can’t I tickle you? I won’t break your hymen.”

“Sorry. No.”

Preema knelt and sucked Mamoru’s cock. This time he was standing, and he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling it grow moist and trying to think how he could arouse Preema without touching her pussy. What did he know women liked? They liked having their neck kissed and their nipples pinched. Their thighs kissed. He could try…that! A shiver up his cock as Preema gave a particularly firm and juicy suck.

“Stop. Let’s lie down,” he said.  

“Ok. Wait a minute, though,” she said.

She reached inside her bag and pulled out six small pots. They were roughly the size of a pack of tuna that you pull back the lid to open. She laid them out by the bed.

“What’s in there?”

“You’ll see!”

Then she produced a tube of lubricant.

They climbed onto the bed together and began making out, Mamoru desperate to touch her groin as she fondled his to repair the erection. 

“Just kissing someone I actually want to kiss is turning me on,” she whispered.

Mamoru reached down and pinched her nipples in turn, then he left off snogging her and moved down to kiss her neck. This he did tenderly and but firmly, pinching her nipple with his finger and she whispered,

“That feels good, please do that.”

With her right hand, even while being pleasured, she skillfully opened the lube and squeezed some onto her left hand, which was the one she was jerking Mamoru’s cock with, and he was glad because the saliva from the blowjob had worn off and a wet hand job was, of course, better than a dry one.

His cock was getting too aroused. Mamoru needed a break. He guided her hands off his cock and took her hand in his.

“I’m going to kiss your body. Close your eyes and relax,” he told her.

He started on her face, gently pressing his lips to her cheeks. He kissed her ear, then her mouth before quickly moving down to her chin, her neck. He saw her eyes were closed and she was smiling, completely in her own world. Mamoru then felt an overwhelming sense of pity for her, this girl who had never known genuine affection or tenderness, and who had never been seen as a loveable individual and not an object. And this spurred him to kiss her body even more enthusiastically.

He kissed both of her breasts and her tummy, then he paused just above her genitals. He wanted to…

Mamoru placed a single kiss on that black mound. She didn’t protest. He did it again. She stayed silent. He then rained kisses onto her vagina, knowing he was the first she’d allowed to do so, however many cocks had passed her lips. She was damp there now. He gave her a lick…

Immediately, she pushed him away. The spell was broken.

“You can’t. I must marry, and I have to be a virgin.”

“Ok, I’m sorry.”

“It’s different here, Mamoru. My life could be in danger.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just want to make you orgasm.”

“Let’s try it from behind. You’ve made me feel really good. Hopefully I can come then, and we can get to your surprise, ok?”

“Ok!”

They both stood, Mamoru gently shaking his cock to restore his erection. Preema took to her knees, her head positioned above the pillows. Mamoru slipped on a condom, then picked up the tube of lubricant. Oh, that black ass looked tasty. He had to do it…

Mamoru crouched and gave her taut buttocks a kiss. Then another one. Jerking his cock gently with his hand, he kissed her ass and then, as he had seen done a thousand times on the pornos, he slipped his tongue between her cheeks.

“What are you…oh!!” Preema squealed as she felt Mamoru’s wet tongue tickle at her sphincter.

“Isn’t that nasty? For you?” she whispered as he jiggled his tongue a little at the rim.

“No. It’s nice.”

And it was. She was clean and she smelt good. And he was showing her she didn’t disgust him, and he felt that that was about the best thing a whore could ever dream of.

Two minutes later, Mamoru pulled back, then he squirted some lube onto his finger and rubbed it liberally around her asshole. To be sure it was sufficiently wet, he popped his middle finger into her bottom and stroked her inside a little.

“Mmmm…that feels nice!”

Mamoru’s finger brushed up and down and he liked the sensation, as if he were stroking the inside of a peach. He could have carried on, but then Preema whispered,

“Fuck me! From behind!”

Mamoru eased his finger out, then took to his knees behind her. Squirting a little more lube, he parted Preema’s buttocks then shook his penis, so it was as firm as possible, then prepared his approach...

As Mamoru pressed his cock into Preema’s sphincter, he recalled that evening not so long ago when he had, as casually as anything, happened to click on a video of a desi girl from the comfort of far off Tokyo, a night he could never have guessed would lead to him sodomizing a bubbly hooker who just wanted to protect her maidenhead, but was as horny as any young woman.

Preema gasped as his cock entered her, and he began to thrust gently into her bowels. He grasped her hips, and he took a deep breath, picturing her breasts and her torso from the first time she’d undressed for him. He found his rhythm, and, in her tight ass, it felt so, so good and now she was beginning to moan and gasp and exhale sharply. What did it feel like, he wondered? He would have to buy a dildo to find out.

“That’s great! Keep that up,” said Preema, “but close your eyes. Your surprise is coming!”

Mamoru closed his eyes, pumping gently. He heard a clink sound, then another, and then there was a feeling as if ash from a nearby fire was falling on his body. He opened his eyes, and, to his amazement, he saw what Preema had brought in the pots. It was coloured paint! She was throwing handfuls of colours into the air. The paint dust was sprinkling down upon their naked bodies like snowfall and covering them. A shower of gold. A sprinkle of pink. A puff of blue.

Preema was certainly feeling the cock in her ass, for she gave occasional yelps and moans, but she carried on scooping up the paint and throwing it up over them.

The colours mixed on her dark body and his white skin. As more of the powder fell, it began to actually coat them. Preema’s black back and buttocks and Mamoru’s white head and upper torso were soon a rainbow of bright colours and the skin-deep differences between them fell away. It was as if they were not a Japanese and an Indian, but of another species entirely, a species evolved to peacock through the exhibition of the wildest patterned skin.

Mamoru was finding that focusing on the strangeness and exotic beauty of the colour palette helped him maintain control over his orgasm. Preema’s, on the other hand, was apparently getting going. She stopped throwing paint…Mamoru suddenly worried about the laundry bill from the hotel…and bent over tighter, lowering her head to the bed and grasping the sheets.

“Faster?” he asked.

“No. Just like this.”

He thrust into her ass six more times and each time she squealed and wailed in a tone that he couldn’t tell was pleasure or pain. Or maybe it was both? Her next words,

“Oh, I love it! More, Mamoru, more!” answered that question.

“You want it more in your ass?” he cried, approaching orgasm himself suddenly.

“Yes, yes, hard! I’m coming! Pump me hard!”

Mamoru sped up. Their cries and moans between them nearly raised the roof as he drilled his cock into her rainbow-coloured ass, and he pumped harder, as hard as he could until Preema went limp, and Mamoru’s cock burst his load into her colon. He came so hard that he half imagined his cum would shoot straight through her digestive tract and out of her mouth.

He pulled out and they collapsed together on the bed. He planted a kiss on her lips when she had her breath back. And she smiled at him, and it was the sweetest smile he ever had because it was not the fake smile of the whore to her client but the smile of a woman acknowledging a sexual partner’s success in satisfying her needs.

Mamoru and Preema exchanged email addresses but, of course, they never saw each other again. Back at home, Mamoru bought a sex toy to try to recreate it from her point of view. And for many years to come, Mamoru would look up videos of the great Holi festival of India and remember the night that he and that sweet Indian forgot about their differences and united together under a coat of many colours.