Arriving for his rendezvous, he tapped out a message. "I've arrived." "Turn
around," came the reply. And standing there on the street was a absolute
knockout, with stunning features, coiffed hair dyed brown and a healthy tan.
"Did I keep you waiting?" he asks.
"Not really," she smiles, showing her pearly whites. "Is it okay if we go to a
hotel I know?"
Hiroshi couldn't believe his good fortune. He shouldn't have. Rather than a
roll in the hay he eagerly awaited, he was to get rolled instead.
Then, just as the amorous couple was about to enter their hotel room, three
nasty juvies dressed in hip-hop fashion, accompanied by a dumpy looking female,
pounced on him from out of nowhere, and while two held down Hiroshi's arms, a
third restrained him with duct tape.
"I-i-is this a setup -- some sort of badger game?" Hiroshi stutters.
"Badgers? We don't know no steenking badgers," one hood replies. "All we're out
to do is roll middle-aged guys like you and have some fun on the side. So let's
party!!!"
The four toughs and the cutie (who was clearly involved in the caper) helped
themselves to the supply of beer in the room's minibar and then passed around a
white powder on a sheet of aluminum foil, which they took turns snorting into
their nostrils.
To amuse themselves, they yanked down Hiroshi's trousers and took a lighter to
his pubic hair.
Aroused by the drug, they took turns gangbanging his date, while he looked on.
Watching them thrusting in and out of her crotch, he developed an erection in
spite of himself.
"Oho! Look at that!" one cried, pointing at the offending member. To "punish"
him, the hoods squeezed his testicles until he blacked out from the pain.
The dumpy girl had passed out from the drug and was barely moving. Could she be
dying?
Just when it seemed things couldn't get any worse, the doorbell rang.
"Mister, what're you doing in there?" exclaimed a hotel employee. "Our guests
in the other rooms are complaining! Open up! Let me in!"
As if he didn't have enough problems! Tabloid headlines glared before Hiroshi's
eyes: "Bank employee charged with drug-related death while abetting teen
prostitution!!"
Thinking quickly, Hiroshi stammered, "Look, I'm checking out now! I'll make it
up to you -- you can double my room charges!"
That failed to persuade.
"If you don't open the door immediately, I'll summon the police!" came the
response.
Hastily donning his clothes, Hiroshi -- who by this time had used the edge of a
table to cut off the tape -- grabbed a towel and started wiping his
fingerprints off all smooth surfaces.
As police sirens sounded off in the distance, the dumpy girl awakened from her
drug-induced stupor and began bellowing at the top of her lungs.
With the employee pounding on the door and no other avenue of escape, Hiroshi
launched himself out the room's tiny window toward the landing of the
neighboring building and fled. Except for leaving behind all his money, plus a
few scrapes and bumps, throbbing testicles and no public hair, he was none the
worse for wear.
The story never made the newspapers, and finally, after two years, Hiroshi can
once again sleep with his full weight on the mattress.
Uramono Japan ponders the percentages of a first enjo kosai tryst winding up as
such a disaster. Pretty low, it figures. But then again, you never know.
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