White Dick Detox
I spent the last 3 months in Japan. But I needed a break from home, the city I live in is just sort of exhausting. It’s endlessly urban and gray. I’ve never felt like anything but a “city” girl but I was just getting fed up with the noise and the traffic.
I also wanted to unplug for a bit. The previous months has been wall to wall work for me, which mostly involves being in front of computers for 10 hours a day and being on call for the rest of the day. Wouldn’t it be nice to just explore the world for awhile?
I had money and time, so I quit my job, packed a bag and left, what other decision was there to make?
I did two weeks of backpacking before arriving in Sendai. What’s in Sendai? Farms, mostly. Other stuff too, but mostly farms. Before I left, I arranged to stay with a host family on one of these farms. I’m half-Japanese but I don’t really have a strong connection to the country, I think of myself primarily as a Korean, but everyone was very welcoming. I got a small stipend, room and board in exchange for about 3 hours of work a day. Mostly I just picked blueberries in the orchard and packed bags of leeks.
It was nice. Very idyllic and calm. I woke up at 9 AM, learned some Japanese over breakfast with my host family, spent some time in the fields and then explored the country-side for a bit and chat in the little bars and restaurants that were within walking distance. After that, I’d walk by home and go to sleep. Simple living.
The downside, of course, is that there’s White people, basically. I mean, sometimes you’d see someone on a bus riding through on a tourist trip, but that was it. So no White Cock for me, but in a way, I was happy about that. It was nice to take a break from fucking like crazy almost every night of the week. I thought of it as a bit of White Cock Detox - 6 months without White Cock, no big deal, right?
I spent about a week missing my phone’s data plan, TV, porn, all the stuff that I take for granted in America. There’s TVs in Sendai, but it’s easy to ignore them. The wi-fi just blows, mostly. Of course, what I missed most was White Men. I went to bed every night horny as fuck, but literally every male that I saw on any given day was Asian, so, you know. Gross. So I just masturbated. But after that week, everything was smooth. I didn’t even really think about all the things that I was used to having and had to do without while staying on the farm.
That lasted about two months. Then the Australians showed up. Literally the first White Men I’d seen in months (Not counting people just driving through town.) I ran into them at a bar near my host family’s farm. They were all cute, but one in particular really set me off. Tall, muscled, kind of rough around the edges. His name was Brian.
I knew we were going to fuck as soon as I saw him.
He’s confident too. He comes right over to me and speaks in broken Japanese, only to be surprised that I speak English. He tells me that he and his two friends had been backpacking but were going to spend a few days at a hotel to recharge their batteries and hang out around town a bit.
We exchange numbers so that I can show him around a bit, figuring I’d been in town for longer, so surely I knew some fun sights to see. Sure, whatever, just give me your number.
I go home, eat dinner, then bury my face in a pillow and rub my clit for like an hour, flooding my mind with thoughts about what kind of filthy things that powerful, White Man could do to me. I’m addicted to White Cock and I’m utterly shameless.
I call him the next day. He asks where we should meet. How about his hotel room? That’s a good, centralized place to start from, right? (It wasn’t.)
He meets me outside of the hotel, kind of a 3 star sort of place. Not upscale or anything, but it was nice. I text him to ask his room number and he says he’ll meet me in the lobby.
Wait, meet me in the lobby? Did his guy actually think I wanted to show him sights the sights? Did he actually think I gave a f u c k about showing him the blueberry orchard? I just wanted to spend my afternoon riding some White Cock. Ugh.
He gets off the elevator and greets me. He gestures to me to come over to the side of the lobby where we can talk in private.
“Just to be clear, you’re just hear to fuck, right?”
Oh. Good. He gets it and he’s even more confident than I thought. I didn’t respond though, I’d been caught off guard. But I guess he understood my answer anyway.
“Well that’s what I want to do too, but I gotta let you know - I’m sharing the room with one of my friends. He’s still in the room now. Are you down to fuck him too?”
I spent a moment trying to remember exactly what the other friend looks like, but I can’t conjure up the image. But I remember that he’s white and kind of cute, so yeah, whatever, you know? What, like I’m going to fuck him while his friend just sits there in the hotel room? It was his hotel room too. It’d be rude for me to not take care of his friend too.
I say yes, or sure, or something like that, and his arm grabs mine and pulls me into the elevator. Little Japanese ladies look at me, scowling, with envy, probably. He puts his hand down my shorts and cups my ass as we wait for the the elevator doors to open, then uses the grip to guide me to the room.
The three of us chat for a bit and drink a little. I ask where the third guy they were with is at. I was honestly just curious, but they assumed it was because I wanted to fuck him too. Which isn’t to say that I didn’t also want to fuck him, but that wasn’t what was on my mind. Unfortunately, he’d gone off to do some exploring on his own.
They keep pouring me sake- I know what they’re doing and I don’t even mind. Eventually, I kick my shoes off and I guess they thought that was their queue. They pull off my shirt and my shorts and it all comes back to me. I remember what it’s like to be grabbed and groped and fucked and used by White Men. It was the opposite of an out-of-body experience. I was fully, fully in-tune with my body and all that it wanted was White Cock. I spent a moment considering how ridiculous it was that I tried to pull away my love of White Cock and that I went 2 months without doing this. But only a moment, because I had two White Men to focus my attention on. I needed to be present for them. White Cock Detox was an unmitigated failure.
One of them pushes me onto the bed and starts pounding away at my pussy. He’s giving me these long, deep, strokes. I love rubbing my clit, yeah, but sometimes you just need something hard and deep. He’s got me moaning and drooling, a fact that I couldn’t ignore because his friend found it very funny and provided a running commentary. He lets me know that the drool shouldn’t go to waste and takes his place as the last third of the spitroast.
They were having such a good time. My mind floated a bit as they used me: Am I the first girl they’ve done this to? Is his condom still on? Is this the kind of story that men share with their friends when no women are around? I wanted to be that story, the little gook they picked up in a bar who gave them easiest and best fucks of their lives.
More sake. More sucking. More cum. It’s sort of warm in the room so we head to the shower and fuck there. Condoms are hard to keep on in a shower so…we don’t worry about it. They take turns laying down in the bath tub as I ride them while the water from above keeps us slick. They both shoots their loads, probably in my pussy, I don’t really know. What I do know is that they came where they wanted to and that was what was important to me. And them.
I pulled my shorts back on - no panties, they’d been torn, a total loss - and put my shirt back on and prepare to head home after some chit-chat. Brian comments on my hands and notices that my nails are a little beat up. He says that I must really work hard out in the fields. Honestly, I didn’t really work that hard, but my hands are sensitive so it probably looked like I did. I told him to give me money for a manicure.
It was a joke, you know? But he gives me the money. 9500 yen - that’s way too much, but whatever. He says he’ll be back in two days. He doesn’t even bother asking if I want to meet him again, he simply tells me that he’ll be back in two days and it’s understood: We’re fucking. Yes.
The next day after I finished picking my blueberries, I take the bus into the city center and sit down for my manicure. It reminded me of what my materialistic American life is like. Paying someone to dote on me to make me pretty, buying clothes on a whim, and addicted to technology (And weed - nearly impossible for a foreigner to find in Japan.)
You know what? Fuck it, I’ll get the pedicure and back massage too. These little japs could probably use the money, right? So I kick my feet up and they get to work.
An hour later and I have pink nails, soft hands and not a single ounce of stress in my shoulders. I headed home for the night.
In the morning, I enjoy my breakfast, chat with my hosts and head out to the orchard. A perfectly average morning. I start picking the blueberries, but it doesn’t really make sense. Why am I picking blueberries? With these nails? Why would I rough my hands up again after getting them so pretty? Why am I fucking around at this farm for scraps when I could be in a nice hotel, being spoiled by housekeeping and having nasty sex with tourists? I mean, the farm was nice, but it’s wasn’t really me. Wearing make-up, $300 shoes, doing coke and worshiping White Men is me. I’m materialistic and vain and passionate about White Culture. I’d forgotten that for awhile, but Brian reminded me.
I went back to the host’s house and explained to them, that there was an emergency(!!). I would have to leave the farm and head back home, but thank you so much for the stay, blah blah. They were so understanding. I hugged everyone, wrote some letters of appreciation and left some candy for the children.
Two hours later, I was back at Brian’s hotel. He didn’t bother to come meet me in the lobby, this time. I mean, why would he? He already knew what I was there for. He also didn’t bother to tell me that his third friend would be in the room with them this time. I mean, why would he? He already knew that I would do whatever he asked me to.
And I did. It was their last night in Sendai and I had already booked my flight back home. I hadn’t even gotten my own hotel room yet and had a couple of days to kill. What was there to do but be their fuckbunny and earn night’s stay with them? It wasn’t really any different from what I did on the farm, working for a place to stay. It’s just that when you have bright pink nails and soft hands, it makes way more sense to use them to make White Men shoot loads than it does to pick blueberries with them.
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