Message-ID: <11650eli$9805271533@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: specpress@earthlink.net (Odile Santiago) Subject: The Lily Flower (by Sachi Mizuno) (modern Japan, f, mf, voy) 1/1 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: specpress@earthlink.net Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6keoot$kk3$1@argentina.it.earthlink.net> THE LILY FLOWER by Sachi Mizuno Copyright (c) 1996, 1997 Sachi Mizuno All Rights Reserved Published by Spectrum Press *The Lily Flower* is an anthology of Mizuno's erotic fiction of modern Japan. The full 357-page text is available in electronic form on IBM disk or via Email. For more information, contact: with subject "mizuno info". The following text is intended for adults only. ----------------------------------------------- from *The Lily Flower* *Jubun*, Mariko thought. It cannot go on. She spoke out loud, muttering the same words into the night air. It was a warm evening, quiet but for the faraway sounds of traffic, trucks headed to the center of Tokyo, and the occasional bark of a nervous dog in the alley that ran along the back of the apartment block. Mariko was annoyed at the sound of her own voice breaking the stillness. Seated on the balcony of the small apartment she shared with her husband, she wondered if Kenji was still sleeping. They had been married five years, and for the past year they had been living in this small flat in the Magome district on the outskirts of the city. Kenji was a decent husband, but Mariko thought there were too many evenings when she wanted physical affection and Kenji either ignored her or went to sleep. When they did manage to get together, it seemed to Mariko their lovemaking was routine and too brief, like one of those tasteless meals in an American-style fast food shop, nothing like what they had experienced at the beginning of their marriage. Was Kenji tired of her? Mariko thought maybe it was true. The *kentaiki* -- the phase when married couples became bored with each other -- was supposed to occur after seven years, but she thought in their case it may have occurred sooner. She felt sad and bitter. The situation seemed hopeless, with no way to get Kenji to understand her disappointment. Whenever she would try to talk to him about it, he would find some reason to change the subject. I'm wilting, Mariko thought, wilting like a drying cherry blossom. She was almost twenty-eight, and Kenji was the only man she had known during the five years of their marriage. Before her marriage, she had had her chances with other men. She was attractive and men always showed an interest in her. She had shapely legs, a slender body, and firm round breasts. Everyone said she looked good in a bikini. Her dark hair framed a face pretty enough to draw a second glance on the street, and her women friends often told her they envied her. But at the moment she had a thoroughly wet *momo* and a sexually boring husband fast asleep with a belly full of beer. But I still love him, she thought. Kenji was hopeless as a lover, but he could be kind and generous when he was in a happy mood. The stars seemed to laugh from out of the black sky. Mariko felt secure in the darkness, although the balcony of the adjoining apartment was only a few feet away. A short trellis separated the two large balconies, and sometimes she would see Mrs. Ohira watering a flowerbox or cleaning the stone floor. The Ohiras were a little older than Mariko and Kenji. They had moved into the building only recently and the two couples had not had much contact yet. Mariko thought the man was a teacher. His wife also worked somewhere, but Mariko did not know her occupation. They seemed like a happy couple, which made Mariko envy them. After glancing once more at the Ohira balcony to make sure it was unoccupied, Mariko unbuttoned her blouse and slipped her hand inside to tease one of her nipples. She had walked around all evening without a bra, wearing a thin blouse, her breasts swaying seductively, but Kenji had hardly noticed. Now the touch of her fingers on her nipple sent a shiver of pleasure straight down to her belly. With a sigh, she slipped her free hand under her skirt and she explored the terrain inside her panties. As she expected, she found her slit sopping wet, the slippery labia warm and throbbing. When she had been a girl, her friends had often teased her because she had been too modest to parade naked in the gymnasium locker room. They ought to see me now, she thought with a blush. At this moment she was definitely not a picture of maidenly modesty. More like a wanton soap-girl, she thought. But she doubted any soap-girl had to sit in the dark like this. She spread her juices up and down her crack, her fingertips slowly stroking the shaft of her clitoris. She never liked to rush the finger play. She wanted the pleasure, but she thought it stupid to be so wet and not be with her husband. Kenji, after all, was sufficiently endowed to please a woman. When he was aroused, his impatient penis dripping juice on the sheets, her excitement was always intense. The image of his organ brought a moan to her lips, and her fingers stroked her clitoris more rapidly. Suddenly she stopped -- she was too close. It was always better to build it -- to climb the mountain of delight slowly. She pulled her hand away and slipped it inside her blouse to wet her nipples with her juice. She fingered the tips, pulling them, tugging them until they were extended to a maximum. She suddenly thought of Mr. Tanaka, the manager of the department store where she worked behind a cosmetics counter. Mr. Tanaka walked by a hundred times a day, and each time he made certain to stare at her breasts as he passed her. She enjoyed the attention, but the way he stared at her always made her blush. What would she do if one day he asked her to have coffee with him? Probably nothing. She liked younger men. She liked strong bodies and hard cocks. Athletes were the best. She remembered a young weight-lifter she had seen on television. The way his cock and balls had deformed his briefs had made her quiver. She was about to move her hand back to her sex, when she heard a noise. It was the cry of a woman, a woman moaning. The cry came from the flat at her right, the Ohira apartment. Mariko caught her breath at the sound of another cry. She knew what it was; she was certain it was the sound of a woman in the heat of sexual pleasure. She felt guilty at her invasion of the privacy of her neighbors. But at the same time she bit her lip with excitement, her heart beating rapidly. The Ohira flat was in fact only a few feet away. She could see a light, a crack where the door had been slid to the side a bit to allow some air into the apartment. Or perhaps the door never closed properly. These were old apartments, and they needed repair in places. Would it be possible to see anything? Mariko's excitement and curiosity were more than she could bear. Leaving her chair, she stepped carefully over the low trellis and approached the door on the balcony of the Ohira flat. The crack was just wide enough to make it possible to see into the lighted room. Mrs. Ohira, wearing a cotton robe pulled up to her waist, lay on her back on the edge of the futon with her knees in the air and Mr. Ohira's head between her thighs. Mariko stifled a gasp. She could see everything. The woman's robe was bunched at her waist, and the man had his mouth on her sex. The woman's hands were holding his head. The woman moaned. "*Hai*, do that again!" Mariko did not have to see Mr. Ohira's face. She could imagine his tongue tickling his wife's clitoris, lapping at the lips of her sex, dipping into the wet opening. The woman writhed on the bed, moaning, her hands gripping her husband's head. The knot of excitement in Mariko's chest brought her close to fainting. She slipped her hand beneath her skirt and cupped it over her sex. She had never witnessed anything like this, and it was more exciting than she had ever imagined. Kenji sucked her occasionally, but he never seemed to enjoy it. As much as she liked it, she was always too embarrassed to ask him to do it. But as she watched the Ohiras engage in this act, it seemed so natural for a man to lick a woman there. The fact that they were still wearing clothes made the scene even more exciting. Truly, it reminded her of one of those erotic Edo paintings. Mariko guessed the Ohiras did this often, and she was envious. She could see more now. Mrs. Ohira had moved her feet further apart so that her legs were spread as wide as possible. When Mr. Ohira raised his face, Mariko could see his wife's patch of sex hair and the glistening red groove of her sex. Even at this distance, it was obvious that Mrs. Ohira's cunt was lush, ripe, dripping its wetness on a towel placed under her buttocks to protect the bed. Mr. Ohira passed his hands over his wife's hips to cup and squeeze the globes of her buttocks. Mrs. Ohira pulled a pillow beneath her head and she peered down at his face. "Go on, do it," she said. Mr. Ohira muttered. "Is this what you want?" "Yes! You promised!" Using both hands, she held her labia apart, stretching out the folds, showing him the meat of her pink and red sex. Mariko quivered at the lewdness of the woman's behavior. She had more than once wanted to open herself like that to Kenji, pry herself open and show him the essence of her femininity, the humid cavern of her sex. She was always afraid Kenji would be shocked at her immodesty. Mr. Ohira lowered his head and began a slow and deliberate lapping of his wife's slit. She groaned with each stroke of her husband's tongue, and Mariko wondered how long the woman would last before having an orgasm. Mariko expected to come when the woman did. She now had three fingers massaging her sex, her pelvis moving in rhythm with Mrs. Ohira's groans. Inside the room, Mrs. Ohira moved her hands to the backs of her knees and pulled back her thighs to completely expose her crotch. Her husband gave up licking and rooted his face in the crack. His tongue probed and flapped inside her cunt as his nose rubbed her clitoris. In a few moments, Mrs. Ohira bucked her hips and cried out in the throes of her orgasm. Mariko gasped her own release, her juices flowing through her fingers. When she opened her eyes again, Mariko saw Mr. Ohira wiping his face with a towel. He smirked down at his wife from where he knelt beside her. "Was it good?" Mrs. Ohira sighed. "You know how much I like it." She sat up on the futon and pulled her robe down to cover her knees. Mariko was amused by this act of modesty. In public, Mrs. Ohira seemed like such a demure creature, the perfect little modest housewife. It was difficult to imagine Mrs. Ohira ordering her husband to suck her, but that was exactly what Mariko had just witnessed. Mrs. Ohira was now untying the sash of her husband's robe, and Mariko watched breathlessly as Mrs. Ohira spread the *yukata* apart to reveal the lower half of Mr. Ohira's body. His penis looked huge, a long thick cock above heavy balls nesting in a patch of dark hair. Mariko shuddered. The sight of the man's superb weapon made her heart race. The shaft was dark, with prominent veins, the tight skin of the fat knob showing a purplish hue. His large testicles looked bloated. I'm acting crazy, Mariko thought. Was it reasonable to have such a strong response to the sight of a man's organ? But she did find it exciting. She and Kenji never looked at each other any more. She could hardly remember the last time they had done anything in a lighted room. Mrs. Ohira smiled at the evidence of her husband's arousal. "The twig is now a mighty branch," she said with a smile. He shuffled forward, and his wife extended her tongue to lap at the mushroom-shaped purplish crown. Then she slid her mouth along the shaft to the base of the cock, and she licked the underside of the shaft upward to the rim of the knob. Mariko's juices were flowing again. At the moment she would have given anything to change places with the woman. Her mouth watered for the swollen penis. Turning her head, Mrs. Ohira caught the shaft of her husband's organ between her teeth, teasing the sheath of skin up and down the cylinder, moving to the swollen tip and finally opening her mouth to engulf it. He closed his eyes and uttered a deep grunt of pleasure. Mariko caught her breath as she rapidly stroked her clitoris with a fingertip. Watching Mrs. Ohira suck her husband's penis made Mariko frantic with excitement. She fixed her eyes on the woman's head as it bobbed up and down on the shaft. The organ was now slick with Mrs. Ohira's saliva, the cylinder thick enough to completely distort her face as she engulfed it. She was no longer the demure little housewife with quiet eyes. It was obvious to Mariko that Mrs. Ohira was enjoying herself. Gobs of saliva dripped out of the corners of Mrs. Ohira's mouth and flowed down the shaft of her husband's cock to coat his swollen balls. Suddenly Mrs. Ohira pulled her mouth away and looked up at the man. "Do you want to finish in my mouth?" He shook his head. "No, not like that. Let's undress and you can lie on your back." Mariko watched them undress. Mr. Ohira was lean and muscular, his stiff organ bobbing in front of his belly. Mrs. Ohira had small breasts, a thick waist and full buttocks. With a sigh, Mrs. Ohira stretched out on the bed, moved her legs apart and slid a hand past her belly to fondle her sex. "Hurry!" she said. Her husband grunted. Mariko held her breath as she watched him kneel and position himself between his wife's thighs. He lifted her legs, draped them over his shoulders. When he leaned forward, she doubled up with her knees against her chest and her ripe cunt turned upward. He took hold of his cock and rubbed the tip up and down her wet crack. When he found the opening, he rammed forward to penetrate her with a single stroke. "*Hai*!" Mrs. Ohira let out a wailing groan. "Hold still! Let me feel it!" Mariko kept her eyes on the man's hips. She could see the hang of his heavy balls under the dark crack between his buttocks. She slipped two fingers inside her vagina and stifled a moan. Mr. Ohira began thrusting, hammering his body against his wife's sex, his organ pistoning in and out of her channel, skin slapping against skin, the sound clearly audible through the thin wall. Each powerful stroke brought a grunt of appreciation from his wife's throat. They enjoy it, Mariko thought. Their obvious pleasure made her boil with envy. She realized she had to do something to change the pattern of her life. Biting her lip with excitement, she watched the man and woman move into the finale of their lovemaking. The sheer animality of it made it beautiful. Mariko imagined she could hear the slurping of Mrs. Ohira's cunt each time her husband rammed it with his cock. He had a muscular body, and he looked strong enough to keep going indefinitely. Mrs. Ohira had been transformed into a moaning, wailing creature, her teeth clenched, her hands clutching the bed, her hips rotating and thrusting to meet each stroke of her husband's penis. "I'm almost there!" Mr. Ohira rasped. Mrs. Ohira turned wild. "*Hai! Hai!* Do it! Do it!" Mariko stayed until the very end, until the last quiver of the man's buttocks as he finished shooting his sperm into his wife's cunt. Mariko almost swooned as she watched the cheeks of his ass contract with each thrust. At last she moved back, moved away from the door and stole silently across the low trellis to her own balcony and the door to her own apartment. Kenji was still sleeping on the large futon in the center of the room. Mariko switched off the light and stripped off her clothes. She lay down in the darkness, and she immediately plunged her fingers inside her sex. She thought of the man and woman together, their strong coupling, vigorous, direct, even if artless. She would prefer more subtlety, more dalliance, but she had to admit the force the man displayed was exciting. With swift precision, she rubbed her clitoris. She came quickly, and then she came again, and then finally, when she could not come any more, she pulled her fingers away and she went to sleep. ------------------------ end of extract from *The Lily Flower* by Sachi Mizuno Copyright (c) 1996,1997 Sachi Mizuno All Rights Reserved Published by Spectrum Press Odile Santiago -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----