Japan Dreams Collected Stories 13 - 17: Japan Dreams, #3

By Japan Dreams

The third collection in the smoking hot Japan Dreams series!

Contains the stories The Matchmaker, The Spiteful Landlady, The Girl with the Low Grades, Sapporo Nights, and A Japan Dreams Christmas Story.

Steaming hot, not for under 18's!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Japan Dreams
• Release date: Jan 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524247270

Book preview

Japan Dreams Collected Stories Volume 3

Japan Dreams Collected Stories Volume 3

Japan Dreams

Japan Dreams

Contents

The Matchmaker

The Spiteful Landlady

The Girl with the Low Grades

Sapporo Nights

A Japan Dreams Christmas Story

What’s Next?

By Japan Dreams

Copyright

The Matchmaker

My first couple of years in Japan was the usual kind of adventure that most red-blooded males enjoy. Living in the suburbs of Osaka I spent the routine eight to nine hours a day pretending to teach English, then the rest of the evening drinking as much beer as I could, singing bad karaoke and feasting on the starry eyed type of girl who used to follow us gaijin around like flies hunting shit.

I’d read up on all the forums before coming, and had known what to expect, but the reality was a little different. The really hot chicks didn’t just line up to jump into your bed; they were cold and elusive, disinterested in a bunch of borderline alcoholic foreigners looking for a quick screw or pseudo-relationship for a few months. Japanese bars were a tough place to pick up, while the gaijin bars were filled with short, dumpy types, who, although nice and tight for a few rides, were hardly long-term relationship material with their tendency to agree with everything you said and an unhealthy obsession with Disney.

I had a mate obsessed with tapping easy-smile virgins, short and plump, with a cushion for the pushing that was his favorite catchphrase. Two or three mornings a week he’d nurse a coffee with his hangover in the teacher’s room and tell me far too loudly about the girl he’d picked up and fucked the night before, how tight her fresh little pussy had been, how soft her tits, and sometimes, if I was really unlucky, about the virginal blood that had stained his sheets.

Eventually, as all transient mates you make out here tend to do, he found one he liked more than the others and married her up, then moved off up country to a quiet little town where he could set up his own business and pump his fat little wife full of load every night. For a while the teacher’s room was almost peaceful.

Like my mate, and the dozens of others I had known, I played the game for a while, but rather than find myself married off I just became disillusioned with so much easy pussy and stepped away from the game as my life in Japan passed five years and I remained single. I stopped going out all the time, joined the gym, took up taiko, and even got a little allotment on rental from the city government to grow a handful of stringy potatoes and occasionally share a flask of hot sake with one of the granddads who hung out there on weekends. As for women though, I was feeling burned out.

We had a lot of strange people pass through our English school. We taught anyone from babies up to ancients who had to be wheeled in and could barely remember their own names let alone anything we taught them, but we were a shameless money-making factory so all and every student was treated like royalty. The teachers were a mixed bag; there were always a few transients who quickly tired of the vacation-less treadmill of dull work, but others were long-termers either lacking anything else to do or caught into a need for money by a family but with no time to ever look for anything better. Then there were those like me who filled the gaps. Six years in and I was sitting on the fence, neither an old hand or a noob, and as a result didn’t really fit into either group. The old timers hung out in the gaijin granddad bars, the kind of places populated by disillusioned fifty-plus Americans, while the noobs rode the endless merry-go-round of izakaya and karaoke bars.

In the middle, I was left to socialize with the students.

When you reach a stage where you don’t need any more friends and you don’t have the energy for staying out all night, you started looking for what you could gain from a social occasion. I found myself going out with handfuls of adult students after work in order to practice my Japanese whether they liked it or not, but after a year or so of this I woke up one day, looked in the mirror and wondered when exactly I had fallen by life’s wayside. I was out of challenges, out of enthusiasm, and out of energy. Barely thirty, I hadn’t been laid in nearly a year, didn’t do anything other than grow potatoes or visit onsens, and only drank draft beer in small quantities.

Looking back on my life, it was easy to pick out the worst part of my situation.

I hadn’t been laid in nearly a year.

What was wrong with me? In days gone past I’d woken up with dick ache three or four times a week. Now I barely even looked at a woman. I wondered if I was actually bi, but when I started looking at guys I found no attraction there either. Something was up, a general apathy that was overtaking me and had to be shaken off soon.

I did what I felt needed to be done to rectify the situation. Over the next couple of weekends I went out and picked up a couple of the short, plump sort of girl I had once gorged myself on, then took them back to hotels and pounded them with an intensity that was all my frustrations with myself coming out in one sudden rush. I fucked these girls like a man possessed, hammering them into the bed, my cock like an iron bar handing out retribution. Clearly more impressed with my performance than I was, I shrugged off the requests for phone numbers, emails, my LINE and Twitter accounts, and stumbled off into the night, mentally making a note of which bars I needed to avoid for a while.

Clearly, getting laid wasn’t a problem. It was the quality of the pussy that was the issue.

And then one day, when I least expected it, the answer came walking through the door of my school, sauntered up to the secretary’s desk and requested a private lesson.

Her name was Alina Kobayashi. She was forty, according to the secretary’s sign up sheet that I later managed to get a peek at, and listed her job title as homemaker. She was tall, elegant, endowed in all the right places, wore her hair in a bob to her shoulders, kept her top low and her skirt high. She was the kind of woman who made you hard the moment she walked into a room, and best of all, she had the most perfect resting bitch face I had ever seen, a pout that would tear you apart.

I was on a free period when she walked in through the door, and I snapped to attention like one of the Emperor’s guards on inspection detail. Beside me, Jerry, the gay guy who was shacked up with some Japanese dude, smiled and whispered, ‘Damn, even I’d tap that.’

Alina swung her eyes around the room as she waited for the secretary to finish a phone call, and for a second they paused on mine. Not a muscle in her face twitched, then her gaze was gone, passing over Jerry and a couple of the female teachers who were drinking coffee at a table at the far end of the room.

I didn’t hear what she said as she leaned over the secretary’s desk, but I saw her name appear on my teaching schedule for the following week. Wednesday night, a one-on-one private lesson.

For the first time in years I couldn’t wait to get to work.

She was a goddess, and I finally had a focus for my attention. She was nearly fifteen years older than me but several ranks up the attractiveness scale. Laying her would be greater than a bank heist, but I knew from our first lesson that it would take a Herculean effort just to get within her general vicinity.

‘Please take a seat.’

She sat down opposite me, not smiling, those pouting lips so