get your panties wet err, whet your appetite — no, I think I was correct the first time *wink* — here’s an excerpt from the book you can win from Slip of a Girl, your holiday angel.
Amorous Woman, by Donna George Storey.
My chosen lover for the evening is certainly worth spying on in his dashing yukata. In real life, Masaru favored jeans and Nirvana T-shirts for off-duty relaxing, so he’d probably be annoyed to be decked out as Japan Boy, but this was my fantasy.
When he sees me, he sits up, his eyes gliding appreciatively over my slinky, translucent negligee. He beckons to me Japanese-style—a waving gesture that looks rather like an American “goodbye.”
Obediently I sit on the tatami beside him. Without a word, he dips his finger in his glass of chilled saké, anointing each nipple with a few icy drops. They stiffen and poke through the silk, so tender they almost feel sore. Masaru circles the tips with his forefingers, the friction of the wet cloth bringing a sigh to my lips.
He watches my face carefully as he teases me. Apparently unsatisfied with the intensity of my response, he picks up the glass and pours the entire contents slowly over my breasts, soaking the whole front of the negligee.
I gasp, gooseflesh rising all over my body. My pussy tightens in a spasm of anticipation.
“You’ve ruined it,” I protest timidly, for I’m not sure I’m allowed to speak.
His eyes bore into me, amused, taunting.
He grabs the front of the slip and tears it down the front, leaving two jagged, gaping halves.
“No, now I’ve ruined it.”
My cheeks burn as if he’d slapped me, but I don’t dare to complain. I bow my head submissively and see that my chest is heaving, already dotted with the telltale flush of sexual arousal.
“Where do you want to go tonight, Lydia?” he asks. It’s more of a command than a question.
I know the answer, but my tongue is suddenly thick and clumsy with shame. I want too much. I’ve always wanted too much.
Masaru hooks a finger under my chin and lifts it so I’m gazing into those penetrating eyes once again. “Around the world, of course. Isn’t that right, my little traveler?”
I nod, blushing.
“Then let’s get started on our journey. The magic carpet is right over there.” He nods toward the single futon spread out by the decorative alcove. The hanging scroll is very unusual, but well-chosen, an erotic spring print of a courtesan, her legs bound to her torso with rope, her lover’s giant cock poised to enter her ruddy, swollen vagina.
“I know you want me to tie you up just like your cousin, but that wasn’t real shibari. I was going easy on her since it was her first time in Japan. I get the feeling you can handle something a little more authentic.”
Masaru opens the carved wooden chest by the alcove and pulls out a thick coil of golden rope. My heart stops. This is the real thing. But when I’m able to breath again, I notice the bonds are fragrant with the calming perfume of fresh tatami straw, the sweet, intoxicating smell of old Japan.
“I’m anxious to get on to the fucking part, so I won’t do anything too elaborate tonight. Just a little kaikyaku kani, the open-leg crab tie. Do you know it?”
I shake my head. The rest of my body is shaking, too. Masaru pulls the rope slowly and carefully through his hands as if it is living flesh, as if he is making love to it.
“You’ll find out soon enough what it is. Come sit on the futon. Oh, and take off those rags. I always suspected you’d look much better naked.”
About the author: Donna George Storey has taught English in Japan — and Japanese at Stanford and U.C. Berkeley. She is a graduate of Princeton, has a Ph.D. in Japanese literature from Stanford and has published over eighty stories in various journals and anthologies including Scarlet Magazine, Best American Erotica 2006, the past five annual volumes of Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica and Best Women’s Erotica, Clean Sheets, Fishnet, Dirty Girls, He’s on Top, She’s on Top, and Yes Sir.