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I first discovered the Japanese schoolgirl phenomenon some years ago. There was no internet in those days and Japanese porn lived in sealed books and magazines that were way beyond my budget.

I’d been sent up to Tokyo on an assignment and, job completed, I decided to stop off for a couple of beers en-route to my hotel. I found a quiet little place in Shimbashi, there was a small family group singing Karaoke towards the back but otherwise I had the place to myself.

Perfect, the family were singing tunefully, the beer was cold and I was beginning to feel a little less stressed.

But it didn’t last long. After a round of songs the father of the family got up and wobbled unsteadily towards me. Worryingly he was clutching a book of songs and the microphone. He introduced himself as Mr Murasaki, offered me the microphone and invited me to choose a song.

I tried to decline politely but Mr Murasaki was not to be denied so it was with considerable relief that, as I opened the book, I saw that everything was in Japanese. I thought I was going to be spared the indignity of singing but as I neared the end a single word of English leapt out from amongst the Kanji script. Yesterday!

Japanese schoolgirls

A look of horrified recognition must have crossed my face, dad had already swung into action. He demanded the song be set up and another beer poured and delivered to the table where I was to join them and sing.

I trudged over miserably but when I saw the rest of my singing companions my mood lightened. I was placed in the centre of the family group. Directly to my right was the son, a lad of about 12-13 and to his right was dad. On my left was the daughter.

I hadn’t noticed her before because she was slightly out of my field of vision but up close she was heart breakingly beautiful. Long straight hair, full lips and a beautifully clear complexion without a trace of make-up. She wore a grey v-neck sweater over a white blouse that held her small but beautifully shaped breasts snug. She also wore a navy blue, knee length pleated skirt and grey socks.

Next to her was her equally breathtaking mother. perhaps even more so because it was so obvious that the two were related. Mum had shoulder length hair and was wearing a heavy, knee length tartan skirt and a black polo-neck sweater. Such clothes are not particularly figure hugging but they left me in no doubt that they contained a body that had been well looked after.

By the second verse I was already imagining a threesome.

After the song was finished the microphone went around the table and then back to me where upon I sang the only English song in the book again. In all I must have sang it about six times, I sang it as a duet with mum and again with daughter. And, in an attempt not to be obvious, tried to get the whole table to sing together.

Japanese schoolgirls

Now mum, whose English was really quite good, had cottoned on to my emotional trauma and had been teasing me mercilessly. The bar had filled up and become noisy so she would lightly touch the back of my hand when she wanted to speak and then lean close to my ear so that I could feel her breath on my cheek and smell the subtle hint of perfume.

Alas, I knew it was going nowhere so began to think about heading back to my hotel to manually relieve the tension. But before I could another gentleman introduced himself. He wanted to impress upon me that the the two ladies I had been sitting next to were Mr Murasaki’s daughter and wife. “Yes, I know” I replied. He himself had three daughters. I told him he was a lucky man. Not like Mr Murasaki’s daughter, these were for his clients but he only had two clients.

He pointed out the three daughters, they were all gorgeous. He also explained that Mr Murasaki’s wife wanted to give me a daughter and that I should choose one of his, they were all schoolgirls. “Ah so” I said, “Professional Schoolgirls?” “Hai!”, he beamed, but was quick to point out that this was a gift from Mrs Murasaki

I said my goodbyes and thanks and made a big Japanese style bow to the group.

“Thank you for singing so well” said Mrs Murasaki in almost flawless English.

“I’d be happy to sing for you anytime”, I replied, “but we should dance as well”.

She smiled and then the penny dropped, she blushed and then giggled, nobody else had understood. As we emerged into the quiet lane I gave the professional schoolgirls’ bum a gentle squeeze, I earned another giggle. Not bad for second prize I thought.

* The names, of course, have been changed.