and work in a culture I didn’t understand was making me lonely.
Very lonely.
And Steve was just the magic pill I needed. I could already taste him on my tongue. Hot and salty. I imagined my lips and tongue working along his shaft, sucking on him, around the head, my tongue diving into the little hole on top, before bringing him to a climax as pleasure overtook him. My daydream made me hot and wet, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted Steve.
I hungered for his strong body and firm touch, his arms holding me, his cock driving again and again into my tight pussy. I’d been too long without sex, busy with twelve-hour days casting actors, consulting with legal regarding the contracts, getting the proper filming permits, checking with post to make sure they’d have the spot sweetened with music in time to give to the client on the pre-arranged date. Hectic, exhausting work with no time for play. A lunch date was exactly what I needed to rev up my energy.
Tired and wet, we sat down on stools in a tiny shop and ordered a typical Japanese lunch of soba noodles. While we ate the noodles with chopsticks, I made every attempt to keep my mind on business as we discussed tomorrow’s shooting schedule for a genki, energy drink, commercial. When I asked Steve his opinion about the location of the shoot, he smiled.
“The Tsukji fish market is my favorite place in Tokyo,” he said, slurping his soup, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. “Slick, wet, and it smells of the sea.”
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