Two days ago (june 9, 2014), we had some of the most
impressive thunderstorms I ever seen. It started at night and lasted two hours,
two hours of a fabulous sound and light show : so many flash of lightning
that the sky was perfectly white, so clear that the public lights seemed
ridiculous and useless ; thunder constantly roaring, giving the feeling to
be under the fire of thousands of guns and bombers.
It reminded me of that day in 1985, that was no less
tremendous.
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Tokyo, October 1985
All TV channels were warning, for the last two days, that
a giant typhoon was approaching Japan.
The biggest and strongest they are, the slower they move.
Yesterday, the news became sure and alarming : after hiting the Nagoya
area, it’ll move north-east, straight to Kanto whith Tokyo at the center,
forecasted around 15:00 with winds between 100Km/h to 180Km/h at the strongest
(55 miles per hour to 100 mph). The japanese president of the company I worked
with decided that we’ll work until midday then go home because such a monster
typhoon : around 800 Km in diameter (450 miles) moving at less than
25Km/h, may cause serious damages during the following 48 hours.
At the said time, the company closed and I moved to our
manshion. The wind was already moderately blowing.
When I arrived, Yooki had already secured the flower pots
inside the flat, leaving the balcony empty and deserted… The children were in
their room with the shutters closed… That was not our first nor our last
typhoon, we were used to, but it was the first time I was at home because of
it.
From the windows and from the balcony of our 4th floor, I
could see people rushing in the street to
take cover as quickly as possible… and rain not yet falling ;
people were shuting their homes as hermetically as possible… wind was not yet a
tempest. I stood for quite a long time on our balcony, enjoying the wind and
the growing anguish. Then I was back in the living room, took the ropes from
the drawer and…
Yooki was stark naked within seconds, not difficult with
only a skirt and a T-Shirt to strip. Within minutes her wrists and ankles were
fitted with independent not so tight ropes. When she understood what I had in
mind, it was too late, she was on the balcony.
Tied to the balcony guardrail, arms, then legs spreaded
to the uprights, she was facing the outside, visible from the main street, from
the houses under our building and from two other manshions 300 meters away. Risk
there was, but very limited, almost all japanese inhabitants had allready shut
himself or herself away and people in the street were much more carefull with
the growing wind than what was happening over their direct horizon. But,
fortunately Yooki was not in a state to understand such subtleties when
panicked as she was and I had to explain. She cooled down, but it gave me
another idea.
The real risk was our neighbours, the flat next to ours,
just separated between balconies by a sheet of ground glass only ; any
move on any side was evident and bending only a little over the rail allowed a
full view… and chatting . In fact, I had to put my finger on my lips to have
her shutting up when I saw a move on the other side of the glass, but the
howling of the wind was covering efficiently her moanings.
Once fixed facing the world, I could leave her alone
meditating and go to play a bit with the children : the girl was already 5
and our son was to be 2 in some days. « Papa ! Where is
Mama ? » Asked our
daughter. « She’s out now. She’ll certainly be back later when you
sleep… » Then I put a VHS
cartridge in the video deck and switched on the TV set. Then went to have a
look in the wardrobe, feeling victorious when I found a huge bright orange and
yellow Nina Ricci scarf.
Back to the bay window and the view of my wife facing the
world and the fury of elements. Outside, it was raining now but the building
itself and the balcony at the floor above were still spared. Therefore the
puddle on the concrete between her legs and around her right foot was not rain
but a loss of control. The rain was now rushing by waves pushed by a wind
gaining in force. The noise was covering all sounds from where I was : the
TV speakers in the other room as well as the Yooki’s cries outside. The wind
will turn, that’s the rule with a typhoon small or big the same.
I opened slightly the sliding bay window and sliped
outside just to be assaulted by the demonic gusts of the wind. What will it be
when it’ll blow directly toward this side of the building ? I came behind
my wife and caressed her back with the tip of my fingers. She looked at me with
eyes sheding tears that were immediately flown away by the blow, pleading to be
freed. I made the remark that she was having the goose pimples in spite of the
hot and damp weather, so I brought a scarf to protect her throat. As soon as
said, the scarf was knoted around
her neck, leaving a big fold of cloth flapping in the wind. She understood with
a delay : a bright colored flag was moving, perfect to attract the
attention of any persons peeping ouside from the relative calm of their
residences. I left her struggling with the ropes and returned to the living to
prepare the afternoon snack of the kids and insert another VHS in the deck
before considering again Yooki’s interesting situation outside.
Between the change of the cartridges, the Tokyo TV
channel was informing that the « eye » of the typhoon will pass south
of Tokyo over Yokohama and that it’s moving speed was increasing while winds
will not reach the previous strengh forecast. Better forecast on one side, but
on the balcony, understanding was different : wind had turned and was
whipping Yooki with all available rain possible.
She was no more the perfect wife having her hair looking
nice in all situations even the worse, but a
witch with trickling down damp hair flaping around. Only
regret, the damp scarf remained half sagging, but there was nobody in the
street, cars or pedestrians the same ; easy to understand why when I saw
tiles from a roof flying horizontally accross the road. Good to be at the 4th
floor, 15 meters above ground
level.
Each wave of drops were slashing Yooki’s shin like,
perhaps better than a Cat-O-Nine-Tails. She was contracting, relaxing, blocking
her moves, all in one or two seconds only. She was so admirable, so beautiful,
so heroic that I felt being unfair. I took off my clothes, but before joining
her outside, I took some large towels from the wardrobe and spread them on the
ground in front of the sliding door opening. Once out, I was grabbed by a wind
not really willing to accept me, the shock nearly sent me down and I had to
grasp the guardrail and hold it tight to reach my beloved wife. Rain was really
whipping, no other word could have been correct and the situation was giving me
a hard on, a whipped one, a crazy one.
When I secured my position on her back, holding the metal
with one hand, tickling her nipples with the other, she perfectly knew my state
of mind, thank to my rigid cock between her buttocks. My free hand tickled down
and found a clitoris quite raised, then it could check that she was much, much
weter and much more slippery than
expected, near of an unexpected orgasm. My fingers on her bud helped her to reach
it and when I introduced my thing
into her, the less I could say is that I was more than welcome.
Rain or not, pain or not the same, she was overboard and
me too.
I may last long, but in that case, repeat as much as she
wanted was no more human. The real problem was when I untied her from the
guardrail, ankles first, but she was able to stand only because of her tied
posture, and when I freed one of her wrists, she collapsed on the ground,
sitting in the water accumulated
on the balcony, water waiting for space in the drain.
Getting back inside the flat was an olympic
performance : wind refusing the limp weed named Yooki to move on, pushing
me away when we progressed of 20 cm. More than 20 minutes, until she laid on
the towel after I closed the sliding door. She was out of her brain, I was exhausted
with again a major hard on. She was laying on the floor without move, with the
ropes still around wrists and ankles and the scarf around her neck. I fucked
her again quietly this time. Her vagina was still more than welcoming.
She was having such silent and peaceful orgasm as she had
frequently and I could have continued quite long if the voice of our daughter
did not called me : « Papa ! The movie is finished »
I had to move, leaving Yooki as she was were she was.
A good pervert may be a perfect father. I took care of
the kids : bath, diner, sleep. When I returned to the living, my Yooki was
deep sleeping on the wet towels. I undid the scarf, the ropes and passing my
hand on her skin saw that in some places there were some bruises left. No bath
that night and I carried her to bed. End for that day.
Yooki’s absolute worry in Japan has always been saving
face and reputation. To be exposed in such a way « in public » had
been worse than suffering from weather, even if nobody had seen her.
The following days, she was looking at anyone she crossed
in our surrounding, thinking they had been delighted by her exhibition. Then
she cooled down.
Nobody ? Ten days later, she found in our mail box a
large envelope. No address, no sender, just someone put it in the box. It
contained half a dozen of poor quality telephotographies without doubt about
the central thema on the glossy paper.
Loved it !
Rope
14 years later, when I saw the last sequence of Pigfarm
(Insex posted on March 1, 2003), my memory and Yooki’s surfaced like crazy.
Most of what we felt during the typhoon surfaced.
Then several years later, someone explained that
lightning hit the Farm at that moment. We understood so well. It was it !
(If you don’t know go to see for
Pigfarm posted on 03/01/2003
« archives » because it had to close because of
censure in the US.
