My job is an office worker.
It's a small to medium-sized company, but the salary is quite good. I've been working at the same place for 10 years since I graduated from college. I got married along the way, but I'm working until I have children. I'm on good terms with my husband.
We also make sure to have our time together at least once a week before a day off, but for some reason, I haven't gotten pregnant.
The problem is that my parents' home is having a hard time due to the current situation.
What, they have debts—what? That much?
I consulted with my husband and lent all our savings to my parents, but it's still not enough.
It's my decision.
I told my husband I'm working part-time at a pub, but even if I get a little salary from the pub,
it won't help much.
I've decided to secretly work in the adult entertainment industry without telling my husband.
It's one station past the station where our house is, by train from the company.
There's a spa there.
When I opened the entrance on the second floor of the building, there was a counter, and a man was there.
"What do you need, miss? Are you here for an interview?"
"Yes, please."
The man looked me up and down and said, "I'll call the owner, so wait."
I was guided to a private room next to the counter and waited there.
It was a room with just a bed, a tissue box, and a box that seemed to contain medicine.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, I'm the owner here, please tell me about yourself."
"Yes."
I was made to sit on the bed, and the owner brought a chair from the counter and sat down.
"First, how old are you?" "32." "Are you married?" "Yes."
"Do you have experience in this job?" "No."
"Does your husband know?" "No."
I was told what to do here and the amount of money.
"Um, what about sex?"
"Basically, you shouldn't do it, but if you both like each other, it can't be helped.
But keep it a secret, and if that happens, you'll get this much," he said, holding up two fingers.
I nodded when asked if I had decided up to that point, and then
it started.
"Then we'll do a check and practice, okay?" "Yes."
"First, take off your top." I was prepared, so I took it off.
As expected, being nude in front of a man I met for the first time today was uncomfortable, but
I took off my bra and covered my breasts with my hands. "Show me," he said, and I lowered my hands.
"You have quite nice breasts, you don't have children, right? The color of your nipples is
beautiful," he said, staring intently. I was embarrassed, and then
"Now, show me the bottom." As expected—
I took off my skirt and panties—"All of it."
I took them off, but I really didn't want to show it, so I held it tightly with my hands.
"I need to check the important part," he said.
I gave up and put my hands behind me.
"Lie down on the bed," he said, and I lay down.
The owner came between my legs and spread them.
I covered my face with my hands and closed my eyes tightly.
This posture is like a doctor and patient at a gynecologist's office, though I've never been to one, probably.
The owner's fingers stroked my pubic hair, perhaps checking the texture, and then grabbed my labia minora and spread them open. My sense of shame was at its peak.
"Alright, there doesn't seem to be any problem, I'm okay with it. Then, ask A at the reception about the technique."
"Hey, it's okay, teach her the rest."
He called A, and I was in this posture—like a gynecologist's patient.
I hurriedly closed my legs and covered my breasts and there with my hands.
The owner left.
A said, "The technique is just an extension of what you do at home with your husband,
so it's easy," and A got completely naked.
"Switch," A said and lay on the bed, while I stood beside it.
"There's oil there, right? Pour it here,"
I did, and A took my hand and made me grab the slippery genitals. I had never seen or touched anyone's genitals other than my husband's, but I couldn't help comparing them. They were hard—
"Like this, you're surprisingly bad at it. Don't you do it to your husband?" A said, grabbing my hand and teaching me.
"This is normal, well, it's called a handjob, and if they finish with this, that's fine, but if they want more," A said, applying lotion to my there.
I wondered what was going to happen, and then my hips were grabbed, and A's thing was rubbed against my genitals without inserting it.
"This is called sumata, it gives the feeling of insertion without actually inserting."
"And then," A grabbed my head and brought the tip of the genitals to my mouth.
"You've done this before, right? It's a blowjob, try it. Oh, this
lotion is safe to ingest," A said, and I was made to take it in my mouth.
"Pucker your lips more, lick the tip with your tongue," A instructed, and I was sucking on a man's genitals that I didn't like or anything. Suddenly, the size changed, and it was released.
I hurriedly spat it out into a tissue.
"It's okay to spit it out, but don't do it like you hate it," A said, and I was made to clean A's thing, and the lesson seemed to be over.
I was told the price for each action, and I was advised to avoid doing the real thing as much as possible, and if I did, to keep it a secret.
I waited in the room for about 30 minutes.
My name was given as Mayumi, but "Mayumi, you have a customer."
A opened the curtain in the room, and a man came in.
"Oh, you're a beautiful person. Is this your first time today? I'm a friend of the owner,
nice to meet you, I'm Saito."
Saito took off his clothes, and I wrapped a bath towel around him and took him to the shower room. I waited for Saito to finish washing and returned to the room.
Watching the naked Saito—I also got naked.
"What would you like to do?"
"I'd like to put it in here." "No, you can't, I'll get in trouble."
"The owner is my friend, so he won't get mad." "My husband—"
"I see, then I guess it's sumata and oral, please."
"Okay."
I poured lotion, and although it wasn't as hard as A's, it was still big.
I applied lotion to mine as well and moved carefully to avoid insertion. When it came to the middle, he seemed to be thinking of pushing it in, so he lifted his hips. I dodged.
"Ah, it feels good, please use your mouth."
I took the slippery genitals into my mouth, and when I played with the tip with my tongue, where the urine comes out—
"You're good—it's nice—I'm going to—"
It was released, but I quickly spat it into a tissue.
After that, I gave a little massage-like thing, and it was over.
Saito added one more bill to the agreed amount.
"So much—" "It's fine, please take care of me next time," he said and left.
Another 30 minutes or so.
This time it was an old man, probably—my father is 60, but he seemed 10 years older.
"Please take care of me, I'm Ishikawa."
"How old are you, Mr. Ishikawa?"
"Hehe, how old do you think I am?" "Well, about 60?"
"Unfortunately, I'm 75."
What? Can you do it at 75? I was surprised.
Mr. Ishikawa's genitals were still small after the shower, is it impossible?
"What would you like to do?" "Please use your mouth, and let me touch you." "Okay."
Mr. Ishikawa's wrinkled hand on my chest, but he's good, flicking my nipples up and down, and then his wrinkled hand on my genitals, inserting a finger. "Don't hurt me."
"I know, you're getting wet." No way, but it feels good.
I took the small genitals into my mouth and licked them like ice cream.
Huh? Huh? It's gradually swelling, oh.
It's about 80% the size and hardness of Saito's. I licked it with all my might.
It didn't finish easily, so I asked Mr. Ishikawa, "Do you come here often?" "When my pension comes in." "What about your wife?" "She passed away."
I was massaging it to keep it from getting small, and licked it again.
This time—"Ugh," he said, and a little came out.
I spat it into a tissue, and Mr. Ishikawa's finger was exploring inside me.
I couldn't let myself feel it.
That's where it ended today.
I became friends with the girl in the next room.
According to her, if A is mean to you, you might get assigned unpleasant customers, so be careful. Even if you don't let them do it, it's good to let them kiss you. Also,
if you have a favorite customer, it's more profitable to do the real thing. I do it, etc.
When I got home, my husband had prepared dinner.
I said I had been working part-time at the pub.
My husband said, "Thank you for your hard work," and I thanked him.
At first, I didn't let them put it in, because it would be betraying my husband—
But, but
Mr. Oki—40 years old, a good man, is it normal there?
During sumata—when I thought the tip hit—inside—
"No, no, pull it out, please."
"It's okay, I'll release it outside."
I felt good too, but just before I finished, on my stomach.
"That's not good." "Sorry, sorry, it went in."
"Geez, but I'll forgive you, Mr. Oki, because I like you."
"I'm happy, I'll be generous with pocket money, and I'll request you from now on."
"I'm happy," I said, hugging Mr. Oki tightly and kissing him, intertwining our tongues.
With Mr. Oki, it's always the real thing. Mr. Oki brings condoms.
Since it's only a relationship at the shop, it doesn't count as betraying my husband, right?
Now, besides Mr. Oki, there are five others—with the real thing.
