text: His eyes wide with wonder. Isei wandered through the imperial capital of Miyako. He had never seen such splendid buildings in his life. The wall of the palace with its armed guards frightened him, and the crush of people in the streets and markets was oppressive. The nun walked behind him, volunteering nothing, keeping to her prayers. As the sun stood overhead at midday, he found himself standing before a long imposing temple. He eyed it suspiciously, then decided to examine the rear, just in case. He had been receiving odd looks throughout the day, but in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the large city no one was actually ready to challenge his right to be where he was.
  
  They circled the building to the back. A crowd had gathered at one end of the long open gallery that ran the length of the building in the rear. Isei peered at the other end, then heard a thrum and a "thwok" sound. An arrow sprouted just above the black-centered parallelogram that hung at the end. Using elbows and bulk, Isei shouldered his way to the front of the crowd. Men gave way to the wild, gun-carrying mountaineer.
  
  Kneeling on the platform was a stocky man with tremendous shoulders and overgrown arms. His left shoulder was bare and held a seven-foot red lacquered bow. He let loose another arrow, then bent the bow again using an arrow held out by one of several assistants passing him the arrows. A man beside Isei looked at the sun and muttered, "Some time yet, until midday."
  
  Isei looked at the target. The length of the gallery was about three hundred and fifty feet and was lined by pillars and roof beams receding in a straight row. An easy shot, he decided, at least for a gunner. For an archer though, ... a very fair shot indeed. The low roof beams required a very flat trajectory which meant a bow with tremendous pull. He looked at the archer with greater respect. The pillars, roof beams, and the blackboard were well quilled with arrows. The target itself was obscured by arrows, looking somewhat like a strange flower.
  
  Finally a gong sounded and the archer paused in his monotonous occupation of shooting one arrow after another. He rose smoothly to his feet, bowed to the target, then to the audience. Two official looking men began counting the arrows lodged in the woodwork. The archer looked on impassively.
  
  "Five thousand and eleven! One thousand two hundred and eighty six!" the official declared.
  
  "What is that?" Isei demanded of a man near him.
  
  The man nodded and grinned at the ignorance of the country bumpkin. "Arrows shot. And arrows reaching the target. They changed it every once in a while. What an archer. What stamina! He has been at it since dawn!"
  
  Isei could not resist the jibe and he sniffed audibly. "At this distance, anyone could hit a target."
  
  The archer heard the comment through the commotion. His head turned slowly, his eyes panning the crowd deliberately until he focused on Isei's form. Their eyes locked. Isei examined the archer. He looked to be shorter than the mountain man, but his shoulders were easily half again as wide. His hair was shorn and he ran a hand through the rough greying stubble. He was about to remove his archer's glove, but paused.
  
  "You can do better?" he asked softly, but in a voice that carried.
  
  "More accurately. At a greater distance. Yes. With this." Isei raised the silk-covered bundle of his musket.
  
  The archer's face tightened. "Show me!" he commanded.
  
  "It would not be a fair contest," Isei retorted. "You are undoubtedly tired." He felt uneasy about the public display, but something prideful was rising in his bosom. He drew an odd comfort from the presence of the nun behind him.
  
  "Show me nonetheless, that you are a worthy challenge?"
  
  Isei grinned and nodded. He slipped the gun from its cover in one smooth motion and his flint rasped once.
  
  "I would have pierced you with an arrow by now," the archer commented.
  
  "In other circumstances, I carry the match lit," Isei retorted.
  
  The archer hopped down from the platform, still carrying his bow while the officials removed the arrows. Isei turned, looking for a target. "The pine tree. Over there. See, it sways in the wind. But there is a topmost twig, sprouting above the mass of foliage." He raised his matchlock.
  
  The archer stared unblinking at the top of the tree which swayed in the light wind. The crowd, which had been about to disperse, stopped in its collective tracks. The tree was easily five hundred feet away.
  
  Isei squeezed the trigger lever gently and the match reached the touchhole. He swayed backwards with the recoil, then forwards again. The smoke obscured his vision as he moved to reload, but he heard the long, drawn-out "Ahhh" of the crowd and knew he had reached his mark. The archer's thin smile showed him more clearly the same thing. A young boy raced off to retrieve the pine branch.
  
  "I am Wasa Senri," the archer said. "Come and visit me. Towards evening."
  
  Isei bowed. Overwhelmed suddenly, he asked shyly, "Where does the master live?"
  
  "Right here, on the grounds of Rengeoin temple. That pine tree was mine." He smiled again.
  
  Towards evening Isei proceeded to the house. Lanterns were being lit and their warm glow lightened Isei's gloom. The houses, and no less their inhabitants, scared him. The nun had insisted he have a bath, but the bathing in an artificial bath with crowds of people had not been pleasurable.
  
  They entered the small gateway together and were ushered into the guest room of the house by Wasa himself.
  
  "I apologize," he said. "I live by myself."
  
  The two men discussed the pursuit of their expertise. The nun served them patiently, otherwise sitting meekly by Isei's side, saying nothing. Wasa proved to be a jovial man with a broad knowledge, theoretical and practical, of all sorts of airborne missiles, from firearms through arrows, blowgun darts and throwing knives. Under his friendly professional interest the normally inarticulate Isei seemed to bloom. In his own ignorant way he had thought much about his abilities, and had even made improvements on his firearm.
  
  Wasa examined the notched rear-sight block admiringly. Sighting through it he caught the nun's eye.
  
  "You must be bored by the talk of experts," he said joking and held out his sake cup.
  
  "I too am an expert," said the nun calmly.
  
  "Indeed," said Wasa, somewhat maliciously. "In bead telling?"
  
  "Nothing so simple as that," said the nun. "We of the Tantara school practice the prana of female and male."
  
  Wasa looked at her speculatively. "I have heard of those practices. I have heard too, that they are esoteric. And banned."
  
  "True," she nodded. "But that is neither here nor there. The government is always banning this or that, usually for the wrong reasons."
  
  "And you are Mr. Isei's companion?"
  
  "He is my disciple on the Middle Path." Isei stared at her in surprise. "Though he does not know it yet."
  
  Wasa laughed. "A hidden master. In what art specifically?" "The cloud and rain art. The art of the body. The art of man and woman."
  
  He laughed again, emptied his cup, filled it and passed it to her. "The art of short range fighting. Like a swordsman, you must come in close."
  
  She smiled back. "We are striving to improve ourselves. In future ages, the art of rain and cloud will encompass all others as a way to satori. Come, let me show you."
  
  She rose while the two men held incredulously silent and dropped her robes. Her body was smooth and slim and completely bare. She had taken the opportunity to shave her armpits and crotch. Her belly descended smoothly towards the full lips of her pussy, their outer surfaces slightly blueish from her shave. She stood with her feet together, and they could see a triangle of light between the lips and both sides. Her breasts were full, sagging slightly, the nipples still flaccid, brown nubbins set off center in lighter brown areolas. She stood silently, unmoving.
  
  "I will show you what is meant by the tantara," she said. "Observe my lotus." Raising one foot, she rested it on her thigh between crotch and knee. The two men could see the full outer lips, their inner surfaces slightly obscured by the thinner delicate inner labiae. She started to move the muscles of her lower torso. Her belly rippled and the ripples grew larger. Moisture appeared on the inner lips. She speeded up the movements of her hips and belly and was soon trembling on her one leg like a leaf in a breeze. Her hips jerked spasmodically.
  
  In a perfectly controlled voice she said, "Examine me closely, please."
  
  Both men crept closer in fascination and peered at her naked cunt. Tiny pearls of moisture shuddered between the pink lips.
  
  "Examine closely now," she said. They could hear the faintest hint of strain in her voice. "Insert your fingers."
  
  They both inserted a forefinger into her cunt. The hungry mouth clutched at the intruding digits and they felt the massive ripples of her self-induced orgasm squeezing their fingers wetly.
  
  "You see," she said, lowering her leg. "The start of every art, as you gentlemen know, is control."
  
  She turned to them and helped them strip. Wasa proved to have an enormous prick topped by a broad purplish plum-tip. They fondled her as she undressed them and she encouraged them with quick words. Finally they stood together, the two cocks pressed strongly against her thighs, a mouth on each breast, hands between her buttocks and on her belly, fingers exploring her crack.
  
  The nun knelt gracefully and smoothly frigged both warm shafts. She sucked each of them alternatively. Both men shivered convulsively as the warm silky mouth sucked them in. She alternated between the rampant shafts, frigging the one that was not enjoying her lingual caress with her hands.
  
  "Control," she murmured, "Control yourself," as Isei felt the pulsing of an initial orgasm. He concentrated, thought of himself as addressing a target with his matchlock, and the peak he was reaching for receded into the distance. She screwed her eyes up at him and smiled in approval.
  
  The nun observed both rampant glistening cocks with pleasure. Tugging slightly at his manroot, she had Isei lie on his back on the matting. The aristocratic-faced mountain man followed her actions passively, his face devoid of all emotion. She whispered an incantation, or perhaps exhortation, then straddled him. Touching him only with her nipples, she stroked his face and body. The tiny softly-hard tips scored his skin like brands of fire. They rolled over his face, digging electric traces into his nerve ends. The two reverse-mounds dipped lower, circled his chest, touched his arms and descended to his belly. His cock received its share of attention from the double cones, as did his pulsing jewel bag.
  
  She rose to stand before Wasa, who had not moved. She raised one foot again and placed it delicately on Isei's roll of engorged meat. Frigging him gently with her foot she addressed her nipples to Wasa. His chest, then his belly and loins received the same attention as had Isei's. For all his fortitude and experience the archer could barely forebear to seize this enticing woman and hurl her to the ground. The fantasy grew in his mind but he knew that she was impossible to rape. She could accept anything he could do with equanimity, and return her contempt at ineptness that would be more wounding than any arrow. She kissed his lips appreciatively, an educated tongue licking out, touching his, and withdrawing, then she descended to the supine form of the mountain man.
  
  She crouched, gloriously naked, over Isei. Wasa stood beside the two and he stroked his enormous curved penis to its root, then grasped the jewel bag there with delicate hands. Her mouth descended and Isei was amazed to see the full length disappear into her mouth. Her throat muscles moved and Wasa gave a groan of extreme pleasure. Her throat was as silky and as controlled as the rest of her. Her glottal muscles milked his member while incredibly, her tongue laved the base of his shaft and the top of his scrotum. He stood, his arms folded on his chest, barely moving as she demonstrated her skill and dedication.
  
  Below them, Isei watched the archer's long shaft disappear into the nun's mouth. The large bag swung over his face. His own cock was buried to the hilt in her tight cunt. Though her body did not move, her interior muscles were milking his shaft with an energy and skill he had hardly known existed. He wanted to pinch, to stroke, to feel her lovely nakedness. Anticipating such a distraction, she had imprisoned his arms between her knees, and Isei subsided, watching the growing pulsations of the large male scrotum above him.
  
  She ejected Wasa's cock from her mouth as his balls began to pulse, then led him behind her. Isei felt the pressure of the massive cock head against his own. His hands were released and he reached behind her body to find that she was stuffing her slit with both cocks simultaneously. Wasa's thick member entered easily and she looked back encouragingly. When he was fully in her, his balls rubbing against the mountain man's, she commanded him to be still. The two men luxuriated in the sensation of two cocks inserted in the same woman. Slowly the nun began to move, impaling herself deeply on the shafts, then withdrawing. Gradually she sped up her motions, and as she did so, ground her ass against both men. Wasa was unable to contain himself. He leaned his full weight on her and clutched at her breasts. Her face betrayed little of the regret she felt and she continued encouraging both men with grinding motions of her hips. The men cried out simultaneously as her motions raised them to a climax. They were deaf to the outside world as the nun bore down upon them, forcing every last morsel of flesh into her waiting cunt, her internal muscles squeezing both shafts together. Her enlarged interior channel was flooded with the discharge of two cocks pulsing together, draining both men to exhaustion. Wasa fell on her back as Isei bore the weights of both lovers above him.
  
  The silence after sex was broken by the men's heavy breathing and a giggle. Wasa spun around as Isei slipped from beneath both bodies and streaked for his clothes and his belt. The nun rose from the matting, more composed than either man. At the entrance leading from the genkan hall to the room they were in stood a young girl. She was dressed in a striped kimono over which she wore a red apron stamped with the name of a well-known tea house. Her hairdo was simple, her face smooth, with the high brow, round structure, and heavy eyelids of the classical Miyako beauty. She smelled heavily of sake and bore a cloth-wrapped square package in her arms.
  
  "Who are you, girl?" Wasa asked sharply.
  
  "Momoe. Of ... of Gion," she said defiantly. There was a faint hint of desperation in her voice that neither man heard. "I am delivering these bean-jam cakes for the tea-house. I only stopped, ... I only stopped for a wee drinky. S'very far you know ..."
  
  "She is drunk," said the nun, peering with disapproval at the sodden girl.
  
  "An you ... an you ... I know what you've been doing! And you a nun too!" Momoe wagged a finger playfully at the nun and grinned foolishly. "Anyway," she announced, straightening with drunk gravity, "I am a messenger from ... to Master Wasa. The Master asked for some special ... cakes from the teahouse, and I was the only one who could bring them ..."
  
  She knelt somewhat unsteadily and proffered the cakes, then looked around the luxurious room with naive interest, showing no inclination to go.
  
  Wasa looked at her and notwithstanding his drained state, wondered if perhaps ...
  
  "Would you like to see two women?" asked the nun, almost divining Wasa's thoughts.
  
  He looked at Isei. "Yes," both men said softly.
  
  She approached the kneeling girl and stood beside her. "Come," she said gently, "you will acquire some merit tonight."
  
  The intention behind the words was obscure to Momoe until the nun started undressing her with deft fingers. Momoe closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. The nun's musky body scent reminded her of Ocho, the girl at the fishing village, and Momoe surrendered gracefully to the knowing fingers that were busy at the juncture of her thighs.
  
  The nun rose and clasped Momoe to her body. The two females contrasted delightfully. The nun slimmer and tauter, her body older but still full of knowledge and determination. Momoe's body fuller, broader at the hips, softer with a dark patch of hair at her legs. Trying to please, Momoe lifted one of the nun's breasts, slightly softer and lower set than her own, and kissed it lovingly, her tongue stroking the nipple which sprang erect at the touch.
  
  "You are well set upon the path, my daughter," the nun intoned, then led Momoe to the zabuton and laid her upon her back.
  
  The nun mounted Momoe's prone body. Momoe raised her legs and threw them over the nun's firm buttocks. She searched between their bodies until she could find the nun's slit, then began rubbing the little clitoris that was hidden between the two sweet rolls of flesh. She masturbated herself at the same time while the nun's hands and mouth were busy at her own breasts. Momoe's nipples rose with the pleasure until they were painfully bursting points of desire.
  
  Isei could no longer contain himself. He squatted at the girl's head and tilted her face back, then presented his aroused prick to her mouth. She tried to move away, then seemed to give a mental shrug. The knob slid into her mouth, then down to her throat.
  
  "Breathe loosely through your nose," the nun, her teeth nibbling at Momoe's neck, instructed. Isei pulled out to afford her some air and Momoe set out to suck his pole with a will.
  
  Wasa squatted behind and examined the trio. The mountain man's face was contorted, but even so Wasa fancied he could see the lines of aristocratic heritage in the planes of the face. Many of the sanka were reputed to be descendants of the Taira clan who had pretended to the shogunate centuries before. Defeated, they had supposedly fled to the high mountains. The aristocratic lines of Isei's face seemed to lend credence to the story. Wasa ran his hands down the nun's smooth back. He parted her buttocks and she obligingly spread her legs. Her cunt was occupied by Momoe's busy juice-coated fingers. Wasa assisted the girls with his own strong fingers and the nun's behind twisted and churned with the added pleasure. Wasa examined his own erect prick for a moment. The arrow was ready, and he needed only to choose the mark. He did not want to spoil the nun's pleasure in Momoe's handiwork. Instead he knelt between the women's legs and aimed his shaft at the tiny buttonhole of the nun's anus. She raised herself slightly to oblige him and the knob, then the shaft, slid smoothly into her waiting cavern. She was tight and moistened by his finger laden with the moisture from her and Momoe's cunt. Wasa leaned back and spread her ass as far apart as he could. He could see the base of his cock disappearing into her enlarged hole, appearing and pulling the ring of flesh with it as she moved. He matched his movements to hers. Beneath them, Momoe gasped ecstatically at the added thrust of the nun's mound into her own soft lips. Meanwhile Isei's cock was shafting silkily into her mouth and she knew that she would soon be flooded with his salty juices ...