text: Momoe giggled nervously and tried to push Saburo's calloused hand away. His teeth nipped gently at her soft ear, and his hands stole again into the folds of her plain cotton robe. She sighed and relaxed against his muscular chest as his lips moved down to her shoulders. She shivered slightly as a stray hair from his topknot tickled her cheek.
  
  "No Saburo, we must stop. I'm a good girl!"
  
  "Very good indeed, darling Momoe, the best of all girls in Miyako." His hand did not cease its wandering and he now held her small plump breast. Her heart fluttered at the touch. He bent and parted the lapels of her summer-printed yukata robe. The tiny nipple slipped between his lips and involuntarily Momoe moved to urge more of the mound into the delightfully warm cavern. She was disappointed when he removed his lips only to recover as the other nipple was treated in the same way.
  
  A flood of loving feeling rushed through her body. She felt her insides moisten as they did when she played with herself, delicately stroking the petals between her legs. His hand seemed to divine her thoughts and it wandered lower across her belly, stopped by her tightly wound obi sash.
  
  Momoe made a token protest, even pretending to slap at his hand while wondering how he would overcome the barrier. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. His own were dark almonds, twinkling usually with humor, and now, with passion. His tongue flicked out and licked the tip of her nose, and then his mouth was upon hers and he was searching her tongue with his own. She responded lovingly, clutching his muscular body to her own, when she realized that his kiss, pleasurable as it was to both of them, had only been a diversion. His left hand had glided between the folds of her yukata and her red wraparound underskirt and up her legs. One of his fingers was gently teasing the soft hairs that grew at the base of her rounded belly.
  
  "You must not do that ..." she started to say, and then realized how foolish it was. They both knew what they were about, both were adults, she sixteen and he a newly-made craftsman of twenty. So instead of protesting, she relaxed trustingly against his broad shoulder and allowed Saburo the freedom of her person he craved.
  
  Saburo found Momoe's sudden capitulation exhilarating. He kissed her lovingly again and his hand parted her thighs gently. His right hand went around her and stroked the small breast through the slit at the base of her yukata sleeve while he stroked the full length of her plump little cunt with his left.
  
  The soft lips gradually moistened and Saburo inserted a questing finger between the lips, searching for her nubbin. A woman had taught him all about sex on her goza mat some years ago, and he fancied himself an expert. He twiddled the tiny button slowly and then faster. Another finger dipped in circular motions into the sweet tight hole while he nibbled at her neck and throat. Momoe clutched at him as he penetrated the initial narrow entrance of her vagina and encountered the thin skin barrier. He drew her moisture out gradually, until his finger was slick with her internal moisture. The faint hint of an enticing perfume came to his nose and he wondered what she would do if he were to raise his finger to his nose and sniff her essence. He put the thought from his mind till later.
  
  Saburo let Momoe incline backwards on the soft moss. They had sneaked into the garden of one of the temples, intent on their affairs. Fortunately for the color of her clothes, Saburo had thoughtfully brought along a small goza mat. He slipped her thick linen sash off and opened her robe. In the summer moonlight she barely had time to see his muscular body as he stripped himself, then lay down between her legs. His fingers returned to playing with her juicy pussy and he reinserted the delightful finger up her channel, gradually widening the opening as much as he could.
  
  Her shy hand stole down their bodies until it encountered a warm thick fleshy knob. She grasped it delicately, not really knowing how to go about it. He pressed forward and she noted the tip was slightly sticky and wet. Saburo rose and directed his prick to the tiny eagerly waiting hole. She spread her legs as far as she could and felt with her hand as the knob tip touched her lower lips.
  
  "Hold my shoulders dear Momoe," he whispered. "It will hurt for only a moment."
  
  She did as she was bid and he sank gradually into her sweet body. The work of his fingers had widened and softened the passageway. The head made its way up her channel, slowed only momentarily by the thin membrane at its throat. Then the shaft was through, coasting up to end nosing at her cervix. Momoe sighed and clutched Saburo to her body. The pleasure of having him in her was almost more than she could bear. Their tongues meshed and she pulled him on, hoping to increase the pleasure. He withdrew somewhat and she hauled back at him, terrified it was over. But then his weight came down again and he started a sweet motion with his fleshy shaft. She accommodated herself to his motions and the pleasure of his being filled her body. She was unconscious of the inarticulate cries that escaped her lips, stopped only when his mouth covered hers, resumed when he bent his neck to suck on her nipples.
  
  Their joined motions became faster and faster. They rocked together in a panic, he trying to bury himself to her depths, as she urged him on frantically. Their pleasure rose steeply, like a bubble rising through oil, growing as it rose. Momoe found herself suddenly bursting, her pleasure overwhelming her and she bit his neck and twisted her hips hard to anchor Saburo to her. At the same time she was conscious that he was wriggling on top of her, his pole jerking frantically at her insides, which were being flooded by warm liquid.
  
  The spurts from Saburo's organ gradually died down and he lay on her as if dead, barely moving. After a while the weight became uncomfortable, and she bit his neck lightly. "You liar," she said.
  
  "What? What did ..." He saw her laughing face and she bit his chest.
  
  "You are a liar Master Saburo. You said it would hurt a bit. But it didn't, not at all." Momoe stretched languidly. "I have never felt such pleasure in all my life. Look at the moon. Oh!" she suddenly remembered. "I must rush home. It is late."
  
  They hurriedly dressed, though not so hurriedly that their fingers did not meet on one another's body.
  
  "Tomorrow then?" she asked, suddenly shy.
  
  "Tomorrow I go to your father and tell him we are married. We will have the feast soon and you will move in with me," Saburo said firmly. Momoe rested her head on his chest, happy beyond words.