Don’t expect to see any photos of her here or anywhere in this blog, as she enjoyed my company but preferred to keep out of the public eye.
She did that by suddenly appearing at my apartment door every night at 8PM… or mere seconds after the last visitor to my place left… it was uncanny…
“See ya, An-do-ryu!”
SFX: Door Slam
SFX: Doorbell Ring
“Hello An-do-ryu-kun… (purrrrr)
“Hi Jun-mmmmmmffff (as she jumps into my arms straddling my torso passionately kissing me as she begins to unbutton her own blouse, my pants and her pants, all the while tugging at the hair band holding my pony-tail… which is how many hands? She should have been called Takko-ko (Octopus Girl)
My time with Junko was epic.
Effing monster epic.
I’m no god in the looks department. but I do know what I’m doing when given the opportunity.
I actually had to break off our relationship because we were having too much sex.
How terrible… too much sex?
Now.. before you lose all your faith in me and decide to forgo this blog forever in favor of… well… any of the blogs listed HERE.
Do I care that I’m not listed there? No. One person’s opinion… and I have no issue with anyone’s opinion. Maybe I do care... after all... I did check. Damn. I did so want to seem cool about it all.
The point I wanted to make however, was, that yes, I actually broke up with a Japanese woman who actually looked like the woman in the photo at the top of this blog… who would have worn the black, medium hole fishnets and maid outfit if I had asked her to… Women will do nice things like that for you, if you let them in on your little secrets, fantasies, fetishes… if they won’t… sorry…
Here’s the problem.
Junko would come over at 8PM. There would be no dinner or drinks or actual dating. No… it was straight to sex (which was the only thing straight about it)… pretty much non-stop sex for 10 hours…
I know… most of you are calling bullshrt on that… but I did say pretty much. I had learned a few tricks of the happy boyfriend trade, such as the male multiple orgasm… an orgasm, as you know is the psychological feeling you get, while the ejaculation is the physical.
Trust me… I used to write a very popular blog on such things under a pseudonym.
So… imagine 10 hours of sex every night… with no time for sleep before I had to go to work, as the 40 minute shower was about all I could do to eradicate the happy stench of satisfaction from my skin…
10 hours a night multiplied by seven nights a week… I know… that’s 70 hours of sex in one week… I didn’t even have time for self-love… though I think it would have fallen off if I had tried… who needed to try?
Have you ever gone one whole week without sleeping? Seven days of no sleep?
I was still in my late 20s… no big deal… especially because I was getting the best sex of my life… and recall, if you will… not yet two years earlier, I was still a virgin, even though I had gone horseback riding twice.
I was a bit loopy from the lack of sleep… maybe a bit clumsier, the longer I was deprived of sleep… but the promise of soul-quenching sex with a she-devil in disguise of an angel… well… I would rise to the occasion with ease and gladly suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Seriously… it was only a 168 straight hours without sleep. I had never counted the actual hours before... it's kind of the initial point of this particular blog...
168 hours... If I could stand on my head, I would tell you it was as easy as standing on my head. But I couldn’t and can’t stand on my head.
But I wasn’t ready to break things off with Junko… are you kidding? I just had 70 hours of sex in a week. It was… orgasmic.
At the end of the next week (week 2)… things in my head began to slow down a lot. I was tired… that’s an understatement… I looked like hell… smelled like the sweetest, most ugly sex you’ve; ever imagined you smelled (which is still pretty good, all things considered), as I began to forgo a shower after she left in the early morning just so I could catch 40 minutes of sleep before I had to get up and teach the masses… whatever the hell it was I was in Japan trying to teach…
So… let’s say 70 hours of sex + 70 hours of sex = 140 hours of tie-her-up-ain’t-that-nasty-I-didn’t-know-that-was-legal intercourse. Love? It wasn’t love, despite what we might have grunted at each other in the midst of our felonious fellaciating felonies.
Two weeks… no sleep… that's 336 hours… less the 280 minutes of catnapping she allowed me…
No wait… my math is off.
5 days x 10 sexy hours = 50 hours
2 days x 24 sexy hours = 48 hours
= 98 hours of sex for the first week.
Out of 168 hours in a week. Which also means 168 hours of no sleep.
Obviously we had to stop a few times on the weekend so I could stagger off to try and get some liquids in me from something other than Junko… but really… that first week was non-stop… even though the rawness I experienced made me want to question the sanity of what I was doing… what with the lack of sleep... but who cares… I was getting sexy sex sex from a sexy sex bomb. Ka-blooey!
5 days x 10 sexy hours = 50 (ow-ers)
2 days x 24 sexy hours = 48 hours
= 98 hours of sex in that second week.
Grand total after two weaks:
196 hours of what the fug am I doing sex
Out of 336 hours in the two weeks, meaning essentially 336 hours of no sleep… but let’s assume I got 4 hours of sleep that second week, as my brain was no longer jumping for joy, even though my weenis was still jumping for Junko.
4 days x 10 sexy hours = 40 hours
The point is… for a guy who was nearly 26 years old before he had sex for the first time… there was no way in hell I was not getting for for the occasion. Never say die, eat more pie…. oh wait… now I get it.
But it did mean 236 hours of sex over a near-three week period.
That’s 236 hours of sex out of a possible 432 hours over three-weeks, and maybe 10 hours of sleep… so 422 hours of being awake.
I was hallucinating… stammering… nodding off… disinterested in school… I looked like crap… the school I was visiting that third week was concerned enough to ask me about what was going on…
I just want to say that for whatever reason... even after three weeks of non-stop sex... I'm pretty sure that Junko looked as fresh as the day we first started our marathon session. She did have a shower at my place before she left... but I joined her... at least that first week... no one ever has a shower duo and expects to actually have a shower. One person always gets the water, and the other one shivers... and for me... it was an opportunity to wet my eyeballs... as my very dry contact lenses surely appreciated the lapse in... what is she doing now... judge... ment...
Exactly... even if you've never done it, you can imagine it. Go ahead... I'll wait until you're done...
I talked to Shibata-sensei at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School)… and babbled out the whole story… Now… keep in mind that Shibata-sensei was an English teacher and considered to be a rock god amongst the women in town… a good-looking, funny, intelligent dude with a wicked smile… and I could tell he didn’t believe everything I struggled to get out… I really was dehydrated.
Needless to say… you’ll notice that Week 3 only had four days of sexually nirvana for Andrew…
It’s because I told Shibata-sensei on the Thursday night… he made a phone call to the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE)… and together my OBOE office gathered at my apartment to intercept Junko before this succubus could suck even more of my… life-force from me…
There was more to all of this, of course… Junko had quit university to be with me… why?… I had a day job… school in Utsunomiya was during the weekdays… there was no conflict… except that she wanted to be near me all the time… to watch what I was doing… to go to the school(s) I was teaching at… to sit in her car and watch and wait for any appearance by me… she would never ever get out of the car, so she said… and wouldn’t talk or make eye-contact with me… she was simply stalking me.
Having a stalker was fun that first week… until I asked her why she wasn’t at school. I was very disappointed and angry that she would give up her education for me… especially when she insisted on keeping our relationship on the down-low, for her own reasons. I really did try and convince her to go back to school...
I was also quite thrilled that my sex gorilla would give up everything to be with me.
Let me just state right now… that Junko was the first suspected case of mental illness I had ever come across, and come across, and come across. I didn’t know anything about mental illness… and even though its shadow crossed my path a few more times in the ensuing years, I still was too blind to see it for what it was… as I was they type of person who mixed up sex for love.
The bosses… they were my wing men that night… as they took Junko back to her mom’s place… and explained to her what was going on… and suggested she get her some help… and to leave An-do-ryu-sensei alone.
They essentially grabbed her and bundled her into a white van… I observed it from my northern balcony as she wailed my name out into the still Ohtawara night… it was so sad…
And it wasn’t her fault… it takes two to tango…
I did try and stop it earlier asking her if we could stop and get some sleep, or go out like a regular couple of whatever the fug we were… but no… a well-placed grope by Junko and I was raring to go.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I just want to say I was still an immature 27. Department of redundancy department.
Not quite three weeks straight of sex - 236 hours. I didn’t want to touch myself for fear of making the rawness throb some more… the thing is… for me, anyways… I felt no pain while I was with her…
So… 25 years ago… it was the best of times, it was the blurst (sic) of times… I still haven’t recovered from my lack of sleep…
Andrew “I’m up, I’m up!” Joseph
PS: Don’t you just love double entendre?