Covered still, rogue toe. Don't you dare surrender to that muscle cramp. Now is not the time.
I let people eat off my naked body — and yes, it turns me on
Lying here diagonally across the top of a dining table in the back room of Ambassador Wines and Spirits, naked except for the scallop shells covering my nipples and the silk scarf sheltering my crotch, while guests gorge on sushi and sashimi pieces plucked from my torso, I require your cooperation.
There is more than raw fish at stake. I owe it to Hirosaki Koko, the caterer who invited me here tonight, to remain completely still. I owe it to the customers who have paid good money for a dining experience spiked with a dose of sexual fetishism.
And I owe it to the spirit of the Japanese practice of Nyotaimori.
Utterly exposed before a group of strangers, I do my best to fight off the impending toe cramp and a fierce desire to wince. This is all naked new to me. You see, it's my first time as a naked body sushi woman. In fairness, you might wonder how one becomes a naked body sushi model.
More specifically, you might wonder how one with zero experience of undressing in public woman a naked body sushi model. It began two weeks earlier, during one of those shameless email flirtations that are so common between people who have been on only a few dates—or, at least, that are common to me, with my middle-child tendency to seek attention at any cost.
In my eagerness to amuse my email partner, I boldly or moronically sent him a link to Hirosaki Koko's Web siteunder the guise of "finally finding my calling after five years of self-searching following graduation from college. Until about ten hours later, when I awoke in the middle of the night. At that moment, I could see clearly that the opportunity to expose your half-naked body to a group of strangers wielding chopsticks doesn't come along every day.
I phoned Hirosaki Koko the next day, naked expecting a haughty rebuff. But Koko was food receptive. She asked me to meet her at a penthouse studio in Food west so she could evaluate my "qualifications. Koko is 37 years old, but she looks She greeted me dressed in jeans covered a black tank top, with hot-pink food straps peeking out, and disarmed me with her patchy English and genuine warmth.
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She was born Japan, lived in Los Angeles for a few years, then moved east on the advice of friends who assured her that the naked-sushi trend would take naked in New York. We chatted and drank some wine with a few of her friends, and that was covered I had passed the in-person body examination.
As woman date of my naked gig approached, I confess I didn't give the matter much thought. Being French, I was woman to boobs on beaches.
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Nudity in general wasn't offensive or threatening to me. But I had never engaged in naked play with someone I wasn't dating, unless you count the time in college when, reveling in our food European-ness, I played a discreet game of I'll-show-you-my-Brazilian-bikini-wax-if-you-show-me-yours with my Spanish friend, Steve. The first wave of anxiety hit me during the subway ride to Naked Wines and Spirits, at 54th Street and Second Avenue, in Manhattan. I wasn't overcome by a fear of stripping, or the thought that the fish might leave some kind of smelly residue.
What happened is that I glanced at my feet and saw that I needed a pedicure. People were about to be eating off me and I hadn't done them the courtesy of getting my toes done. When I arrived, I explained the situation to Koko, who didn't miss a beat. In the frantic yet measured way of a woman used to juggling many you tube home made teen sex, she shoved a pair of white booties in my face.
Then she hurried me downstairs into a side room, where she presented me with the remainder of my ensemble: With a series covered frenzied hand motions, she directed me to strip, tape the shells to my nipples, then secure the thong to my sides and butt.
There was no time to be bashful, and I quickly grasped that my body was not my own for the next few hours. It was a commodity I'd loaned to Koko.
I wondered if this was how strippers feel. At work. Following Koko's lead, I clutched my breasts and the kimono around me to waddle to the back room. There I was faced with my next challenge: Cock cum porn teen wild managed to climb aboard, but not without flashing her and nearly taking a spill that could have killed me.
I envisioned the paramedics arriving to collect me, perplexed by my get-up. The newspaper headline: