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Sexually Adventurous contains an even dozen short stories I wrote using the Mo Beevir pen name. Themes range from accidental sexual encounters, naughty students and teachers, and wildly incestuous families. The collection also includes Mark Twain’s 1879 lecture, “Some Thoughts on the Science of Onanism.”
A lucky young man checks into a cheap hotel and winds up in bed with his sexy neighbor across the air shaft in “New in Town.” In “Business Trip” a lesbian manager seduces her willing assistant in a shared hotel room. A horny chap makes out with his sexy girlfriend in “Fun in a Used Car Lot.” The boss screws his secretary while looking out the office window at a couple fucking in a convertible in “Office With a View.” Back during the Vietnam War, a soldier finds lots of sexual adventures in Japan while on “R & R.” A tutoring session finds the teacher getting it on with his oversexed student in “Study Date.”
When a young man gets a new camera for his birthday, he soon finds himself involved in a lot more than he expected with his 18-
The steam, and then a good soaking in the tub, was followed by Miki carefully drying me with the same cloth she’d used to wash me. She then placed me on the massage table, with a towel across my butt, and proceeded to knead my back and legs before turning me over to work on the front. As she worked her way down by chest she asked the question you always heard in the more basic bathhouses. “Special? You want hormone massage?”
“Very good. Special is ¥2,000. For ¥3,000, you get double special.”
With the yen currently worth just about a penny, ¥3,000 is quite a bit for what amounts to a hand job with groping privileges, but at the time the rate of exchange was controlled at ¥360 to the dollar, so she was asking for $8.33. I naturally agreed, since she had been massaging my balls while she was asking the question and I was hard as a rock.
“Very good,” she said. “You enjoy very much, I think.”
Miki walked over to the door and hung a towel over the little window–something Japanese law requires, so that inspectors can wander through and make sure nothing illegal is going on. It very often is, which, of course, is why she was covering the window. Then she walked back to the massage table–a flat couch, really–and with a cheerful smile unzipped her tight shorts and stepped out of them. Her bush was sparse, with straight, black hair framing a wonderfully inviting pussy.
She sat on the edge of the table, facing me, and put my right hand on her thigh, close to her cunt. She took down a bottle of white liquid–a popular American hair tonic, as it turned out–and dribbled some along the length of my rigid cock, then began to massage it.
Published by Lot’s Cave. 16,300 words. $4.95