text: The work at "Sakamotoya" shop was hard and exacting. As a beginner, Momoe had to do all the work disliked by the senior maids, and in addition, occasionally had to assist Mr. Sakamoto in his examination of the various stuffs he had purchased for his establishment.
  
  She was scrubbing the woodwork in one of the smaller display rooms while next door a well-padded matron examined material brought her by scurrying shop boys. Passing by her bent figure, the chief clerk beckoned to her in his usual curt way. "Mr. Asano, one of our valuable customers, is waiting for his wife, who will be some time. He is taking tea in the Pheasant room, across the main courtyard and up the stairs. Go and attend to him. And no unseemly noise or behavior, mind."
  
  She walked up the steep wooden steps. The bottom and top steps squeaked musically to warn the occupants of visitors. Otherwise her feet were soundless on the polished wood. Asano was a thin man, dressed expensively in a brown silk-lined kimono. There was grey on the sides of his head, though his topknot, lying diagonally across his pate, was black as ink. He looked at her as she poured the tea and offered him cakes.
  
  "You are new here?" he asked.
  
  "Yes sir," Momoe said and bowed.
  
  "That's very thoughtful of Sakamotoya. I must compliment them. Move the tea things aside please."
  
  She did so, and was surprised to see him beckon to her. Momoe knelt before him, asking what she could do for him. The merchant examined her thoughtfully. He stroked her neck lightly, then opened the lapels of her robe. She started to pull back then remembered the chief clerk's words. It seemed she was expected to do as Asano wished. She shrugged her shoulders mentally. He looked pleasant enough, and there was not much he could do with his wife downstairs.
  
  Asano exposed her breasts and admired the full mounds. He flipped back the skirt of his brown robe, then opened his snowy loincloth. A monstrous prick, only half erect, emerged from a nest of iron-grey hairs.
  
  "I think I'd like your mouth," he said conversationally.
  
  Momoe gaped at him.
  
  "Come girl. Come here." He pulled her gently down to his crotch.
  
  The memory of yesterday's time with the fish-paste maker came back to Momoe. It made sense that if she enjoyed having a mouth on her pussy, men would enjoy the same thing on their cocks. She bent forward without any further urging. The cock had a strange bitter smell. Peculiarly attractive. She touched the tip experimentally with her lips. It was soft and dry, slightly spongy. Asano let her have her way. Her tongue peeped out, a tiny pink mouse. It licked at the cock head and scurried quickly home, back to its nest. The second time she tried she was much bolder. She laved the tip of the monstrous prick with the wet tip of her tongue. Asano moved appreciatively. She became bolder still, running the oral digit around the broad crown, under the two lobes that formed a base of the plum, then across the hole. The tiny blind eye exuded a transparent substance and she sipped at it like a bee. It was faintly bitter, smelling of male and lusty promise. She tried an experiment, running her tongue down the length of the shaft. The skin was soft and loose, covering a stiffness she had never had the opportunity to explore before. Asano gave her her head, allowing her to explore him and provide his pleasure at her own time.
  
  Momoe cupped the large wrinkled hairy bag below the shaft. Inside she could feel two soft eggs moving around as if encased in oil. She raised her head and looked at the tip one more time. The single hole regarded her with a blind stare, dripping a single tear. Opening her mouth she engulfed the entire head, taking care to cover her teeth with her lips. Asano quivered slightly. The taste was nice, Momoe decided. Salty and bitter and entirely male. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked more of the shaft into her mouth. Her tongue pressed moistly against the shaft, pressing the cock to her palate.
  
  She withdrew to examine her handiwork. The entire plum head was glistening with her saliva. The prick quivered, straining at its leash. She became conscious of Asano's quickened breathing above her head. The sound made her realize that she too might join in. Her left hand stole between her legs as she bent again to her task. She sucked at the flesh pole and released her cheeks, then sucked again. The desire to see how much of the hand-long shaft she could take in occurred to her. At first she found it very difficult. The end of the penis hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She withdrew somewhat, teasing only the tip with her tongue and lips. Trying again she found she could ease it in further, then further again. She set to work in earnest, pulling in more of the warm quivering length each time, pulling back and assuaging the cock's hunger by licking the tip each time the deep penetration became too much to bear.
  
  Finally she learned the trick and found herself with her nose buried deeply in the black iron-gray hairs at the base of Asano's muscular belly. She was in a haze of lustful accomplishment. She doubted many women could do what she had just done. Sucking mightily and stroking her own clitoris with a thrumming violence, she set about trying to make both of them come. Asano's hands were about her. He stroked her head and nape, the backs of her ears, then loosened her kimono and squeezed her round breasts unmercifully. All that was almost unnoticed by Momoe as she found her pleasure rising with her accomplishment and with the feel of her own hand, slipping in and out of her wet cunt channel.
  
  Asano's hips started jerking furiously into her. His balls started contracting. He grunted rhythmically. She pulled back against his hands. She wanted the pleasure of his sperm streaming into her mouth, not just vanishing down her throat. Reflexively he tried to force her deeper but she held onto his cock with her mouth, squeezing and milking it with lip-covered teeth. A wash of warm thick liquid filled her mouth. She gulped at it and swallowed, wishing to take it all. Another spurt followed on immediately and Asano's grunting increased in volume and frequency. His hips jerked uncontrollably now. A driblet of sperm she was unable to control ran down Momoe's chin. She felt it go regretfully but her mouth was filled again with a final major spurt of his male essence. She swallowed gratefully, noting how the liquid assuaged a soreness in her throat. Finally she licked his softening cock clean, tasting and swallowing all his juices. She gave her own clitoris a final stroke. A tiny shiver of orgasm shook her frame for a brief moment, and then she was kneeling before Asano again, peering modestly downwards, helping him rearrange his clothing.
  
  Asano's eyes were closed. His breathing slowly returned to normal. He slumped slightly. Opening his eyes he smiled slightly at Momoe. "That was very well done. You have had much experience in the toothed vagina?"
  
  "No," she said, suddenly shy. "This is the first time ..."
  
  "Indeed? Remarkable. You are a true asset to Sakamotoya. I'm afraid we must end this delightful session. My wife will be here soon. However, should the opportunity arise, I will call for you again. Please accept this as a token of appreciation." He laid a small paper-wrapped package on the floorboards and slid it over to Momoe. She bowed appreciatively and poured him some tea, then put the parcel in her sleeve. It was an oblong silver momme: a craftsman would have to work for an entire month to make as much.
  
  After Asano left to join his wife, Momoe made her way to the quarters she shared with the other maids. The flavor of his sperm still seemed to linger round her mouth, though she tried rinsing it out from the waterbucket. One of the older maids, plump and fortyish, looked at her with sympathy.
  
  "Been with that old pig Asano, have you?"
  
  "Yes," Momoe shrugged indifferently. She was becoming used to the varied responses of her body, and besides, in the sophisticated atmosphere of the Sakamotoya she did not want to appear an innocent waif.
  
  The other woman laughed coarsely. "He always does the same, doesn't he? Here, come with me. The pressure's slacking off and I don't think they'll miss us. I've got something to get the taste out of your mouth."
  
  She scrabbled in the small chest that held her personal belongings and produced a gourd-shaped bottle. Uncapping it she took a healthy swallow, rolled the liquid around in her mouth and said "Ahhhh. Try some."
  
  Momoe followed suit. The liquid smelled like the wine she occasionally smelled on her father when he came home after an evening out. It seemed innocuous enough. She gave a cautionary sniff, then seeing the look of superiority of the older woman's face, tilted her head back and took two healthy swallows. The liquid streamed like hot silk down her gullet, then burst into a warm coal at the pit of her stomach. Momoe blinked in surprise then took another swallow. Her head began swimming pleasantly and she giggled.
  
  "You're already red!" the other maid exclaimed and snatched the flask away. They took alternating sips of the bottle as night descended around them.
  
  "Gone, all gone," the maid tilted the bottle down and sighed regretfully. Momoe rose unsteadily to her feet and made her way, weaving, to the stairs leading down from the long gallery in which all the maids slept.
  
  "Where you going, Momoe dear?"
  
  "Tge' ... Tgetch ... To get some more." Momoe hiccuped then giggled.
  
  "No, not there. See you drunk, they'll shrow you out."
  
  "Careful," Momoe waggled a solemn finger. "I'll be careful. Find a sake seller. Careful." She eased herself slowly down the stairs. With a drunk's cunning she made her way out a side door of the "Sakamotoya" and wandered off into the night.
  
  The lights and laughter drew her to the small isolated shed by a large unpainted shrine building. She peered blearily through the cracks. A group of young men sat around a couple of lanterns weaving straw rope. The short happi coats they wore proclaimed their membership in the neighborhood's youth association. They laughed as they talked, and the large ceramic bottles beside them rose frequently to their mouths. Momoe saw the bottles through the cracks then hiccupped loudly.
  
  "What was that?" one of the men turned his head.
  
  Momoe giggled, tried to stifle the sound, and hiccupped again.
  
  The men rose to their feet and advanced on the wall. Two of them slipped suddenly through the door and had her by her arms before Momoe could react.
  
  "A woman," they said, laughing, as they dragged her into the light. "Looking for a drink, no doubt," one of the men said smiling. They all laughed. "And some fun besides." One of them pushed a bottle at her, and Momoe took a large swig, trying to bluster her way out of the situation.
  
  "Hmph. Now you wouldn't harm a lady would you?" she asked coquettishly.
  
  "A lady? Of course not. But you, you will be nice to us, won't you?"
  
  She looked at them, bronze chests shimmering in the lantern-light, and liked what she saw. "But I'm so terribly thirsty," she complained. They laughed again and encouraged her to drink again. She took a large swallow. The sake did not taste so bad now that she was used to it. And the men were nice and attractive. "What are you celebrating?" she asked, more to have something to say than out of any real curiosity.
  
  "Why, we've just finished preparations for the festival. We're going to dance ..." Someone chimed in, "... and wrestle ... ," and another added, "... and vie for the ladies' favor."
  
  One of them, his topknot awry, leaned confidentially to her and asked, "Are you a good judge?"
  
  Momoe hiccupped and looked at him, then blinked the bleariness out of her eyes. "Of what?"
  
  "Of things, you know, various things. I'm sure you're very good ..."
  
  "Of course I am," she said with drunken gravity. "I told them at Sakamotoya didn't I?" She hiccupped again.
  
  "You sure did!" the men encouraged her. The leader smiled again. "Then you can do us a favor, since you're so discriminating ..."
  
  "Of course I can ... can ..."
  
  "We've been arguing, and we want you to be the judge."
  
  She swayed slightly and took another ladylike sip from the large bottle. "Anythin' I cn ... cn ... can do t'help."
  
  "Here," he said, whipping off his loincloth, "Judge our cocks. Which is the best, d'you think?" He was grinning broadly and winking at his companions.
  
  Momoe looked at the semi-erect penis gravely and blinked. She shook her head. "I can't tell. S'only one. Gotta see the rest."
  
  There was a flurry of movement and she was faced with a row of expectant cocks. Some were erect, others slowly rising to erection, still others limp, barely showing between their owners' thighs.
  
  "Gotta have them all in the same state," she mumbled and moved towards the nearest one. Several of them reached promptly for their cocks and started stroking their shafts with their fists energetically.
  
  "You're trying to cheat!" Momoe said furiously. "Stop it!" She reached for the group leader's prick and stroked the shaft hard with her soft hand. It rose proudly. The shaft was a pale brown, the head a fiery brownish-pink. When the member was erect to her satisfaction, she reached for the next one. The young men crowded around her, shoving their cocks in her direction.
  
  "Sit in seiza!" she commanded and slapped the nearest half-erect shaft. They obeyed and Momoe was faced by a row of young men in blue-happi, sitting on their knees, cocks exposed. She stroked the first one in line, a stubby cock with an enlarged head like a mushroom. The young man smiled at her, his breathing frantic. She looked at her handiwork critically while sipping at a cup of sake someone handed her. Then she turned to the next one. Many of the shaven pates sprouted beads of sweat as they watched her progress.
  
  Momoe paused at the end of the row. The men sat, some smiling dreamily or lustfully, others watching her curiously. Before her stretched a long row of erect pricks. Thick and thin ones, some longer, some shorter. She smiled. "There, that's better."
  
  "Well?" The one who had suggested her office prompted. "Which is the best?"
  
  "I don't know," she said. "They all look gorgeous. But how can I tell which is the best?"
  
  "There's only one way to tell," said one of the men slyly.
  
  "Yes, I imagine you're right." Some of her drunkenness had left her at the thought. She took another long swallow. The liquor did not burn at all as it went down this time. She looked at them thoughtfully for some time. They peered back anxiously, as if she were a real judge deciding their fate. With slow erratic motions she opened the bosom of her robe, then hiked up her skirts and tucked them into her sash. One of the men rose, his prick bobbing before him as he rushed to fetch an old quilt from a corner of the shed. He spread it rapidly. She waited until he had returned to his place. Before them the men saw a young woman. Her thick eyelids were half closed. Her lips were full and generous, her face the rounded beauty of Miyako. Some peered in anticipation at the small black patch of fur between her full white thighs. She opened them slightly as she stood there, then one of her hands descended past her obi. A finger inserted itself gradually into the bottom apex of the fur and stroked lightly, once, then again. The men held their collective breaths. She knelt gracefully, wriggled herself into a comfortable position, then spread her legs wide and motioned to one of the men. They could see, at the juncture of her thighs, the faintly darker slit where they all longed to bury themselves.
  
  The lucky young man knelt quickly between her legs. The others clustered around as he fumbled with his erect prick, trying to lodge the head of the iron-stiff bar into the waiting entrance. Momoe put her hands behind her head and looked at him with amusement. How silly these young inexperienced men were, she thought gaily. The excited youth fumbled with her cunt, knocking against her thighs with the tip of his prick. His friends urged him on silently. In his lustful excitement he could not manage to make any headway. At last Momoe raised her knees slightly and with a twist of her loins helped him lodge the tip of his prick between her soft full nether lips. He reached for her breasts, throwing himself forward as hard as he could. The long shaft tore its way up her damp waiting channel. The expectation was too much for the man. His balls suddenly pumped and a flow of liquid bathed Momoe's insides, soothing and lubricating her interior. The young man buried his face in her breasts, his hips stuck lustfully to hers. Reluctantly, trying to put a good face on his quickness, he rose from her.
  
  His place was taken by one of the nicer cocks Momoe had seen in what she now regarded as her private collection. Fatter and heavier than the rest, the man mounted her enthusiastically. His cock, curved like a bow, widened her eager cunt lips and reached deep into her belly. She raised her hips to meet his thrust. This time there would be no quick end. He gripped her hips and rammed himself again and again against her clitoris. His curved cock sought out all her best parts and she panted with delighted lust. He sucked at her erect nipples, mauling them with teeth and tongue. Clutching him to her she felt the first of many orgasms overcome her as glazed and lustful male eyes peered at the couple before them, waiting their own turn.
  
  Momoe lost track of time. The straw was warm and comfortable under the robe, and the face of her lover kept on changing. She found in herself an endless capacity to love. Her body was racked with orgasmic flashes as the prick in her body replaced itself ever anew in a different form. The men discharged lustfully into her, without regard now for her pleasure, having seen that she took from each as well as they received. Her cunt overflowed with the men's discharges, and the rocking of their slick bodies on hers conspired with the alcohol in her blood to lull her to sleep.