The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

ALMOST TRANSPARENT BLUE by Ryu Murakami

Translated by Nancy Andrew

IN THE MIDDLE of Oscar’s room, nearly a fistful of hashish smoldered in an incense burner, and like it or not, the spreading smoke entered one’s chest with every breath. In less than thirty seconds I was completely stoned. I felt as if my insides were oozing out through every pore, and other people’s sweat and breath were flowing in.

Especially the lower half of my body felt heavy and sore, as if sunk into thick mud, and my mouth itched to hold somebody’s prick and drain it. While we ate the fruit piled on plates and drank wine, the whole room was raped by heat. I wanted my skin peeled off. I wanted to take in the greased, shiny bodies of the black men and rock them inside of me. Cherry cheesecake, grapes in black hands, steaming boiled crab legs breaking with a snap, clear sweet pale purple American wine, pickles like dead men’s wart-covered fingers, bacon sandwiches like the mouths of women, salad dripping pink mayonnaise.

Bob’s huge cock was stuffed all the way into Kei’s mouth.

Ah’m jes’ gonna see who’s got the biggest. She crawled around on the rug like a dog and did the same for everyone.

Discovering that the largest belonged to a half-Japanese named Saburō, she took a cosmos flower from an empty vermouth bottle and stuck it in as a trophy.

Hey, Ryū, his is twice the size of the one ya got.

Saburō raised his head and let out an Indian yell, then Kei seized the cosmos flower between her teeth and pulled it out, jumped on the table, and shook her hips, like a Spanish dancer. Flashing blue strobe lights circled the ceiling. The music was a luxuriant samba by Luiz Bon Fa. Kei shook her body violently, hot after seeing the wetness on the flower.

Somebody do it to me, do it to me quick, Kei yelled in English, and I don’t know how many black arms reached out to throw her on the sofa and tear off her slip, the little pieces of black translucent cloth fluttering to the floor. Hey, just like butterflies, said Reiko, taking a piece of the cloth and spreading butter on Durham’s prick. After Bob yelled and thrust his hand into Kei’s crotch, the room filled with shrieks and shrill laughter.

Looking around the room, watching the twisting bodies of the three Japanese girls, I drank peppermint wine and munched crackers spread with honey.

The penises of the black men were so long they looked slender. Even fully erect, Durham’s bent fairly far as Reiko twisted it. His legs trembled and he shot off suddenly, and everyone laughed at the sight of his come wetting the middle of Reiko’s face. Reiko laughed too and blinked, but as she looked around for some tissue paper to wipe her face, Saburō easily picked her up. He pulled her legs open, just as if he were helping a little girl to piss, and lifted her onto his belly. His huge left hand gripping her head and his right pinning her ankles together, he held her so that all her weight hung on his cock. Reiko yelled, That hurts, and struck out with her hands, trying to pull away, but she couldn’t grab on to anything.

Her face was getting pale.

Saburō, moving and spreading his legs to get more friction on his cock, leaned back against the sofa until he was lying almost flat and began to rotate Reiko’s body, using her butt as a pivot.

On the first turn her entire body convulsed and she panicked. Her eyes bulging and her hands over her ears, she began to shriek like the heroine of a horror movie.

Saburō’s laugh was like an African war cry, as Reiko twisted her face and clawed at her chest. Squeal some more, he said in Japanese, and began to turn her body faster. Oscar, who’d been sucking Moko’s tits, Durham, who’d placed a cold towel on his wilted prick, Jackson, who wasn’t naked yet, Bob on top of Kei – all gazed at the revolving Reiko. God! Outasight! said Bob and Durham, and went over to help turn her around. Bob took her feet and Durham her head; both pressing hard on her butt, they began to spin her faster. Laughing, showing his white teeth, Saburō then put both hands behind his head and arched his body to drive his cock in even deeper. Reiko suddenly burst into loud sobs. She bit her own fingers and tore at her hair, because of the spinning her tears flew outward without reaching her cheeks. We laughed harder than ever. Kei waved a piece of bacon and drank wine, Moko buried her red fingernails in the huge butt of wiry-haired Oscar. Reiko’s toes were stretched back and quivering. Her cunt, rubbed hard, gaped red and shone with mucus. Saburō took deep breaths and slowed down the spinning, moving her in time with Luiz Bonfa’s singing of “Black Orpheus”. I turned down the volume and sang along. Laughing all the time, Kei licked my toes while lying on her stomach on the rug. Reiko kept on crying, Durham’s semen dried on her face. With bloody tooth marks on his fingers, sometimes growling like a lion from the pit of his stomach – Oh-h, I’m gonna bust, get this cunt off me, Saburō said in Japanese and thrust Reiko aside. Get away from me, pig! he yelled. Reiko grabbed at his legs as she fell forward; his come shot straight up and splattered and sprayed on her back and buttocks. Reiko’s belly quivered and some urine leaked out. Kei – she’d been smearing her own tits with honey – hurriedly slid some newspaper under Reiko.

That’s jes’ awful, she said, slapped Reiko’s butt and laughed shrilly. Moving about the room, twisting our bodies, we took into ourselves the tongues and fingers and pricks of whoever we wanted.

I wonder where I am, I kept thinking. I put some of the grapes scattered on the table in my mouth. As I skinned them with my tongue and spat the seeds into a plate, my hand felt a cunt; when I looked up, Kei was standing there with her legs apart, grinning at me. Jackson stood up dazedly and stripped off his uniform. Grinding out the slim menthol cigarette he’d been smoking, he turned toward Moko, who was rocking away on top of Oscar. Dribbling a sweet-smelling fluid from a little brown bottle on Moko’s butt, Jackson called, Hey, Ryū, bring me that white tube in my shirt pocket, OK? Her hands held tightly by Oscar, her bottom smeared with the cream, Moko let out a shriek: That’s co-old! Jackson grasped and raised her buttocks, got his cock – also thickly coated with the cream – into position and began thrusting. Moko hunched over and screeched.

Kei looked up and came over, saying, That looks kind of fun.

Moko was crying. Kei grabbed her hair and peered into her face. Ah’ll put some nice mentholatum on ya afterwards, Moko. Kei tongue-kissed with Oscar and laughed loudly again. With a pocket camera, I took a close-up of Moko’s distorted face. Her nose was twitching like a long-distance runner making a last spurt. Reiko finally opened her eyes. Perhaps realizing that she was all sticky, she started for the shower. Her mouth was open, her eyes vacant, she tripped again and again and fell. When I put my hands on her shoulders to lift her up, she brought her face close to mine. Oh, Ryū, save me, she said. An old smell came from her body. I dashed to the toilet and threw up. As Reiko sat on the tiles getting drenched by the shower, I couldn’t tell which way her reddened eyes were looking.

Reiko, ya big dummy, ya’ll jes’ drown. Kei shut off the shower, thrust her hand in Reiko’s crotch, then squealed with laughter to see Reiko jump up in panic. Oh, it’s Kei. Reiko hugged her and kissed her on the lips. Kei beckoned to me as I sat on the toilet. Hey Ryū, that cold feels good, right? Since I was cold outside, I felt hotter inside. Hey, ya got a cute one. She took it in her mouth as Reiko pulled back my wet hair, sought out my tongue like a baby seeking the breast, and sucked hard. Kei braced her hands against the wall and thrust out her butt, then buried me in her hole, washed free of mucus by the shower and dried. Bob, his hands dripping sweat, came into the shower. There’re not enough chicks, Ryū, you bastard, taking two of them.

Swatting my cheek, he roughly dragged us, dripping, just as we were, into the next room and threw us on the floor. My prick, still tight inside Kei, twisted as we fell. I groaned. Reiko was tossed like a rugby pass up on the bed and Bob leaped on top of her. She struggled, raving, but she was pinned down by Saburō and a chunk of cheesecake was crammed into her mouth, choking her. The record music changed to Osibisa. Moko wiped her butt, her face twitching. There were traces of blood on the paper. She showed them to Jackson and muttered, That’s awful. Hey Reiko, that cheesecake’s good, huh? Kei asked, lying on her stomach on the table. Reiko answered, Something’s thrashing around in my stomach, like I’d swallowed a live fish or something. I got up on the bed to take her picture, but Bob bared his teeth and pushed me off. Rolling to the floor I bumped into Moko. Ryū, I hate that guy, I’ve had it, he’s a fag, right? Moko was on top of Oscar, who rocked her while he gnawed a piece of chicken. She started to cry.

Moko, you’re OK? It doesn’t hurt? I asked. Oh, I don’t know anymore, Ryū, I just don’t know.

She was rocked in time with the Osibisa record. Kei sat on Jackson’s knee, sipping wine, talking about something. After rubbing her body with a piece of bacon, Jackson sprinkled on vanilla extract. A hoarse voice yelled Oh baby. A lot of stuff had ended up on the red rug. Underwear and cigarette ashes, scraps of bread and lettuce and tomato, different kinds of hair, blood-smeared paper, tumblers and bottles, grape skins, matches, dusty cherries – Moko staggered to her feet. Her hand on her ass, she said, I’m famished, and walked to the table. Jackson leaned over to apply a band-aid and a kiss.

Pressing her chin on the table, breathing hard, Moko attacked a crab like a starving child. Then one of the blacks stuck his shaft in front of her, and she took that in her mouth too. Stroking it with her tongue, she pushed it aside and turned again to the crab. The red shell crunched between her teeth, she pulled out the white meat with her hands. Piling it with pink mayonnaise from a plate, she put it on her tongue, the mayonnaise dribbling onto her chest. The odor of crab flowed through the room. On the bed, Reiko was still howling. Durham pushed up into Moko from behind. Her butt jiggled, she held onto the crab, her face twisted, she tried to drink some wine but with the rocking of her body it went into her nose and she choked, tears in her eyes. Seeing that, Kei laughed loudly. James Brown began to sing. Reiko crawled to the table, drained a glass of peppermint wine and said loudly, That tastes good.

“Haven’t I told you over and over not to get in too deep with that Jackson, the MP’s are watching him, he’s going to get caught one of these days,” Lilly said as she snapped off the TV picture of a young man singing.

Oscar had said, OK, let’s finish up, and opened the veranda doors. A piercing cold wind blew in, a fresh wind, which I could still feel.

But while everyone was still lying around naked, Bob’s woman Tami had come in and gotten into a bad fight with Kei, who’d tried to stop her from hitting Bob. Tami’s brother was a big gangster, and since she’d wanted to run and tell him, there was nothing I could do but bring her along here to Lilly’s place. I’d heard Lilly was a friend of hers, she’d talk her around. Until just a few minutes ago, Tami had been sitting over there on the sofa, howling, I’ll kill them! Her side had been raked by Kei’s nails.

“So don’t I always say you better not bring in punks who don’t know anything about this Yokota territory? What would you have done without me, huh? You wouldn’t have got off easy, Ryū, Tami’s brother is real bad.”

She drank a swallow from a glass of Coca-cola with a lemon slice floating in it, then passed it over to me. She brushed her hair and changed into a black negligee. Still seeming angry, she brushed her teeth and shot up on Philopon in the kitchen with the toothbrush still in her mouth.

“Aw, come off it, Lilly, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, all right, I know you’ll just go and do the same thing tomorrow… But listen, you know, the waiter at my place, a guy from Yokosuka, is asking if I want to buy some mesc. How about it, Ryū? You want to try it, don’t you?

“How much is it, for one tab?”

“I don’t know, he just said five dollars, should I buy it?”

Even Lilly’s pubic hair was dyed to match. They don’t sell stuff to dye the hair down here in Japan, she’d told me, I had to send away for it myself, got it from Denmark.

Through the hair over my eyes, I could see the ceiling light.

“Hey, Ryū, I had a dream about you,” Lilly said, placing her hand around my neck.

“The one about me riding a horse in a park? I’ve heard that one before.” I ran my tongue along Lilly’s eyebrows, which were growing out again.

“No, another one, after the one in the park. The two of us go to the ocean, you know, a real pretty seaside. There’s this big beach, wide and sandy, nobody there except you and me. We swim and play in the sand but then on the other side of the water we can see this town. Well, it’s far away, so we shouldn’t be able to see much, but we can even make out the faces of the people living there – that’s how dreams are, right? First they’re having some kind of celebration, some kind of foreign festival. But then, after a while, a war starts in that town, with artillery going boom, boom. A real war – even though it’s so far away, we can see the soldiers and the tanks.

“So the two of us, you and me, Ryū, just watch from the beach, sort of dreamy like. And you say, Hey, wow, so that’s war, and I say Yeah, right.”

“You sure have some weird dreams, Lilly.”

The bed was damp. Some feathers sticking out of the pillow pricked the back of my neck. I pulled out a little one and stroked Lilly’s thighs with it.

The room was dimly gray. Some light stole in from the kitchen. Lilly was still asleep, her little hand, with the nail polish off, resting on my chest. Her cool breath brushed my armpit. The oval mirror hanging from the ceiling reflected our nakedness.

The night before, after we’d done it, Lilly had shot up again, humming deep in her white throat.

I just keep using more, no matter what, I’ve got to cut down pretty soon or I’ll be an addict, right? she’d said, checking the amount left.

While Lilly had been rocking her body on top of mine, I’d remembered the dream she’d told me about, and also the face of a certain woman. As I’d watched the twisting of Lilly’s slim hips…

The face of a thin woman digging a hole right next to a barbed wire entanglement around a large farm. The sun was sinking. The face of a woman bent down to thrust a shovel into the earth, beside a tub full of grapes, as a young soldier threatened her with his bayonet. The face of a woman wiping away her sweat with the back of her hand, hair hanging over her face. As I’d watched Lilly panting, the woman’s face floated through my mind.

Damp air from the kitchen.

Is it raining? I wondered. The scene outside the window was smoky, milk colored. I noticed the front door was ajar. Yesterday, since we were both drunk, we must have gone to bed without closing it. A single high-heeled shoe lay on its side on the kitchen floor. The tapering heel stuck out, and the curve of firm leather over the front was as smooth as part of a woman.

Outside, in the narrow space I could see through the open door, stood Lilly’s yellow Volkswagen. Raindrops stuck to it like goose bumps, and then the heavier ones slid down slowly, insects in winter.

People passing like shadows. A mailman in a blue uniform pushing a bicycle, several school children with book bags, a tall American with a Great Dane – all passing through the narrow space.

Lilly took a deep breath and half turned her body. She gave a low moan and the light blanket that had covered her fell to the floor. Her long hair stuck to her back in an S shape. The small of her back was sweaty.

Scattered on the floor was Lilly’s underwear from the day before. Far away and rolled up small, the garments were just like little burn marks or dyed spots on the rug.

A Japanese woman with a black shoulder bag looked around the room from the doorway. Her cap bore some company insignia, the shoulders of her navy jacket were damp – I thought she must have come to read the gas or electric meter. When her eyes got used to the dim light, she noticed me, started to speak, seemed to think better of it, and stepped outside again. She glanced back once more at me, naked and smoking a cigarette, then went off toward the right, her head cocked to one side.

Through the space outside the door, now open a little wider, passed two grade-school girls, talking, gesturing, wearing red rubber boots. A black soldier in uniform ran by, leaping over the muddy spots just like a basketball player dodging a guard to shoot.

Beyond Lilly’s car, on the other side of the street, stood a small black building. Its paint was peeling in places; “U-37” was written in orange.

Against the background of that black well, I could clearly see the fine rain falling. Over the roof were heavy clouds, looking as if someone had smeared on layer after layer of gray pigment. The sky in the narrow rectangle that was visible to me was the brightest part.

Thick clouds swollen with fever. They made the air damp, made Lilly and me sweat. That’s why the crumpled sheets were clammy.

A think black line slanted across the narrow sky.

Maybe that’s an electric wire, I thought, or a tree branch, but then it rained harder and soon I couldn’t see it anymore.

The people walking in the street hurriedly put up umbrellas and began to run.

Puddles appeared on the muddy street even as I watched and widened out in a series of ripples. Played on by the rain, a big white car moved slowly along the street, almost filling it. Inside were two foreign women, one adjusting her hairnet in the mirror, and the other, the driver, watching the road so carefully that her nose was almost pressed against the windshield. Both were heavily made up; their dry skin appeared to be caked with powder.

A girl licking an ice cream bar passed, then came back and peered in. Her soft, blonde hair was plastered to her head, and she took Lilly’s bath towel off the kitchen chair and began to wipe herself dry. She licked ice cream off her finger and sneezed. When she raised her head, she noticed me. Picking up the blanket and covering myself, I waved at her. She smiled and pointed outside. Putting my finger to my lips, I signaled her to keep quiet. Looking toward Lilly, I laid my head on my hand to show she was still sleeping. So be quiet, I gestured again, my finger to my lips, and grinned at her. The girl turned toward the outside and gestured with the hand holding the ice cream. I turned my palm upward and looked up in a pantomime of noticing the rain. The girl nodded, shaking her wet hair. Then she dashed outside and came back drenched, carrying a dripping bra that looked like one of Lilly’s.

“Lilly, hey, it’s raining, do you have washing hanging out? Get up, Lilly, it’s raining!”

Rubbing her eyes, Lilly got up, saw the girl, hid herself behind the blanket, and said, “Hey, Sherry, what are you up to?” The girl tossed the bra she was holding, yelled in English “Rainy!” and laughed as her eyes met mind.

Even when I gently peeled the band-aid off her ass, Moko didn’t open her eyes.

Reiko was rolled up in a blanket on the kitchen floor, Kei and Yoshiyama were on the bed, Kazuo was by the stereo, still holding tight to his Nikomat, Moko lay on her stomach on the carpet, hugging a pillow. There was a slight bloodstain on the band-aid I’d peeled off, the hurt place opened and closed as she breathed, reminding me of a rubber tube.

The sweat beading her back smelled just like sex juices.

When Moko opened the eye that still had false eyelashes, she grinned at me. Then she moaned when I put my hand between her buttocks and half turned her body.

You’re lucky it’s raining, rain’s good for healing, I’ll bet it doesn’t hurt much because of the rain.

Moko’s sticky crotch. I wiped it for her with soft paper, and when I stuck in a finger, her naked buttocks jiggled.

Kei opened her eyes and asked, Hey, so ya stayed over last night with that whore-lady?

Shut up, stupid, she’s not like that, I said, swatting at the little insects flying around.

Ah mean Ah don’ care, Ryū, but ya got to watch about getting a dose, like Jackson said, some of the guys around here have got it real bad, ya could rot to pieces. Kei pulled on just her panties and fixed coffee, Moko stretched out a hand and said, Hey, give me a smoke, one of those mint-flavour Sah-lem.

Moko, that’s Say-lem, not Sah-lem, Kazuo told her, getting up.

Rubbing his eyes, Yoshiyama said loudly to Kei, No milk in mine, OK? Then he turned to me – my finger still in Moko’s ass – and said, Last night when you guys were messing around upstairs, I got a straight flush, you know, really right on, a straight flush in hearts – Hey, Kazuo, you were there, you can back me up, right?

Without answering him, Kazuo said sleepily, My strobe’s gone somewhere, somebody hiding it?

Jackson said I should wear makeup again, like I’d done before. That time, I thought maybe Faye Dunaway’d come to visit, Ryū, he said.

I put on a silver negligee Saburō said he’d got from a pro stripper.

Before everybody arrived in Oscar’s room, a black man I’d never seen before came and left nearly a hundred capsules; I couldn’t tell what they were. I asked Jackson if he might have been an MP or a CID man, but Jackson laughed, shaking his head, and answered, Naw, that’s Green Eyes.

“You saw how his eyes are green? Nobody knows his real name, I heard he’d been a high school teacher but I don’t know if it’s true or not. He’s crazy, really, we don’t know where he lives or whether he has a family, just that he’s been here a lot longer than we have, seems he’s been in Japan an awful long time. Don’t he look like Charlie Mingus? Maybe he came after he’d heard something about you. He say anything to you?”

That black man had looked very uptight. I’ll give you just this much, he’d said, then rolled his eyes around the room and left as if he were making an escape.

His face hadn’t changed even when he saw Moko was naked, and when Kei asked him, How about some fun? his lips had trembled but he didn’t say anything.

“You’ll get to see the black bird sometime, too, you haven’t seen it yet, but you, you’ll be able to see the bird, you’ve got them kind of eyes, same as me.” Then he’d gripped my hand.

Oscar said not to take any of those capsules, because Green Eyes had once passed around laxatives. He told me to throw them out.

Jackson sterilized a battlefield syringe. I’m a medic, he said, so I’m a real pro at shots, right?

First they shot me up with heroin.

“Ryū, dance!” Jackson slapped my butt. When I stood up and looked in the mirror, I saw what looked like a different person, transformed by Moko’s painstaking, expert makeup technique. Saburō passed me a cigarette and an artificial rose and asked, What music? I said make it Schubert and everyone laughed.

A sweet-smelling mist floated before my eyes and my head was heavy and numb. As I slowly moved my arms and legs, I felt that my joints had been oiled, and that slippery oil flowed around inside my body. As I breathed I forgot who I was. I thought that many things gradually flowed from my body, I became a doll. The room was full of sweetish air, smoke clawed my lungs. The feeling that I was a doll became stronger and stronger. All I had to do was just move as they wanted, I was the happiest possible slave. Bob muttered Sexy, Jackson said Shut up. Oscar put out all the lights and turned an orange spot on me. Once in a while my face twisted and I felt panicky. I opened my eyes wide and shook my body. I called out, panted low, licked jam off my finger, sipped wine, pulled my hair, grinned, rolled up my eyes, spit out the words of a spell.

I yelled some lines I remembered by Jim Morrison: “When the music is over, when the music is over, put out all the lights, my brothers live at the bottom of the sea, my sister was killed, pulled up on land like a fish, her belly torn open, my sister was killed, when the music is over, put out all the lights, put out all the lights.”

Like the splendid men in Genet’s novels, I rolled saliva around in my mouth and put it on my tongue – dirty white candy. I rubbed my legs and clawed my chest my hips and my toes were sticky. Gooseflesh wrapped my body like a sudden wind and all my strength was gone.

I stroked the cheek of a black woman sitting with her knees drawn up next to Oscar. She was sweating, the toenails at the end of her long legs were painted silver.

A flabby fat white woman Saburō had brought along gazed at me, her eyes moist with desire. Jackson shot heroin into the palm of Reiko’s hand; maybe it hurt, her faced twitched. The black woman was already drunk on something. She put her hands under my armpits and made me stand up, then stood up herself and began to dance. Durham put hash in the incense burner again. The purple smoke rose and Kei crouched down to suck it in. At the smell of the black woman, clinging to me with her sweat, I almost fell. The smell was fierce, as if she were fermenting inside. She was taller than I, her hips jutted out, her arms and legs were very slender. Her teeth looked disturbingly white as she laughed and stripped. Lighter colored, pointed breasts didn’t bounce much even when she shook her body. She seized my face between her hands and thrust her tongue into my mouth. She rubbed my hips, undid the hooks of the negligee, and ran her sweaty hands over my belly. Her rough tongue licked around my gums. Her smell completely enveloped me; I felt nauseated.

Kei came crawling over and gripped my cock, saying, Do it right, Ryū, get it up. All at once spittle gushed from one corner of my mouth down to my chin and I couldn’t see anymore.

Her whole body glistening with sweat, the black woman licked my body. Gazing into my eyes, she sucked up the flesh of my thighs with her bacon-smelling tongue. Red, moist eyes. Her big mouth kept laughing and laughing.

Soon I was lying down; Moko, her hands braced on the edge of the bed, shook her butt as Saburō thrust into her. Everyone else was crawling on the floor, moving, shaking, making noises. I noticed that my heart was beating terribly slowly. As if matching its beat, the black woman squeezed my pulsing prick. It was as if only my heart and my cock were attached to each other and working, as if all my other organs had melted.

The black woman sat on top of me. At the same time her hips began to swivel at tremendous speed. She turned her face to the ceiling, let out a Tarzan yell, panted like a black javelin thrower I’d seen in an Olympic film; she braced the grayish soles of her feet on the mattress, thrust her long hands under my hips and held tight. I shouted, felt torn apart. I tried to pull away, but the black woman’s body was hard and slippery as greased steel. Pain mixed with pleasure drilled through my lower body and swirled up to my head. My toes were hot enough to melt. My shoulders began to shake, maybe I was going to start yelling. The back of my throat was blocked by something like the soup Jamaicans make with blood and grease, I wanted to spit it up. The black woman took deep breaths, felt my shaft to make sure it was deep inside her, grinned, and took a puff on a very long black cigarette.

She put the perfumed cigarette in my mouth, asked me quickly something I didn’t understand, and when I nodded she put her face to mine and sucked my saliva, then began to swivel her hips. Slippery juices streamed from her crotch, wetting my thighs and belly. The speed of her twisting slowly increased. I moaned, getting into it. As I screwed both eyes shut, emptied my head, and put my strength into my feet, keen sensations raced around my body along with my blood and concentrated in my temples. Once the sensations formed and clung to my body, they didn’t leave. The thin flesh behind my temples sizzled like skin burned by a firecracker. As I noticed this burn and the feeling became centered there, I somehow believed I had become just one huge penis. Or was I a miniature man who could crawl up inside women and pleasure them with his writhing? I tried to grip the black woman’s shoulders. Without slackening the speed of her hips, she leaned forward and bit my nipples until blood came.

Singing a song, Jackson straddled my face. Hey, baby, he said, lightly swatting my cheek. I thought his swollen asshole was like a strawberry. Sweat from his thick chest dripped onto my face, the smell strengthened the stimulus from the black woman’s hips. Hey, Ryū, you’re just a doll, you’re just our little yellow doll, we could stop winding you up and finish you off, y’know, Jackson crooned, and the black woman laughed so loudly I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud voice might have been a broken radio. She laughed without stopping the movement of her hips, and her saliva dribbled onto my belly. She tongue-kissed Jackson. Like a dying fish, my cock jumped inside her. My body seemed powder dry from her heat. Jackson thrust his hot prick into my dry mouth, a hot stone burning my tongue. As he rubbed it around my tongue, he and the black woman chanted something like a spell. It wasn’t English, I couldn’t understand it. It was like a sutra with a conga rhythm. When my cock twitched and I was almost ready to come, the black woman raised her hips, thrust her hand under my buttocks, pinched me, and jabbed a finger hard into my asshole. When she noticed the tears filling my eyes, she forced her finger in even deeper and twisted it around. There was a whitish tattoo on each of her thighs, a crude picture of a grinning Christ.

She squeezed my throbbing cock, then plunged it into her mouth until her lips almost touched my belly. She licked all around, nipped, then stroked the tip with her rough pointed tongue, just like a cat’s. Whenever I was on the verge of coming, she pulled her tongue away. Her buttocks, slippery, shiny with sweat, faced me. They seemed spread almost wide enough to tear apart. I stretched out a hand and dug my nails into one side as hard as I could. The black woman panted and slowly moved her butt from side to side. The fat white woman sat on my feet. Her blackish-red cunt hanging down from under sparse golden down reminded me of a cut-up pig’s liver. Jackson seized her huge breasts roughly and pointed to my face. Shaking the breasts that lay on her white belly, she peered into my face, touched my lips split by Jackson’s prick, and laughed Pretty in a soft voice. She took one of my legs and rubbed it against her sticky pig liver. My toes were moved around – it felt so bad I could hardly stand it – the white woman smelled just like rotten crab meat and I wanted to throw up. My throat convulsed and I nipped Jackson’s prick slightly; he yelled terribly, pulled out, and struck me hard on the cheek. The white woman laughed at my bleeding nose, Gee that’s awful; she rubbed her crotch even harder against my feet. The black woman licked up my blood. She smiled gently at me like a battlefield nurse and whispered in my ear Pretty soon we’ll have you shoot off, we’ll make you come. My right foot began to disappear into the white woman’s huge cunt. Again Jackson thrust his prick into my cut mouth. I desperately fought down my nausea. Stimulated by my slippery, bloody tongue, Jackson shot his warm wad. The sticky stuff blocked my throat. I heaved pinkish fluid, mixed with blood, and yelled to the black woman, Make me come!