IND The Goddess and the Girlfriend - a 3P with Manami and Anna Summer

Discussion in 'Independent Japan Escort Reviews' started by Not Even Dave, Apr 12, 2017.

  1. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    Service and/or Provider's Name:
    Manami and Anna Summer

    Date of Encounter:
    April 12, 2017

    Contact Method:
    www.tokyomeltykiss.com

    Appointment Length & Costs:
    3.5 hours (2 with Anna), Y155,000 plus $8000 or so for the LH plus my old foolish heart

    Type/Location:
    Bali-An Resort, Shinjuku

    Language Notes:
    English, Japanese, and "Auf Wiedersein" at the very end

    Details of the Encounter:
    WARNING: Reviewing Manami and Anna Summer on TAG is a lot like reviewing Episode IV: A New Hope on a Star Wars fan site. So, consider this less a review than a tribute. A non-rhyming poem dedicated to two very different but very, very beautiful women.
    ----------------------------------------------------
    “Do you believe in angels?”

    The question was directed at the bartender in the Bar Acqua, in Tokyo’s famed Kabukicho district. Since he was pouring my fourth Jameson’s Irish whiskey, and since he didn’t seem to speak English, I couldn’t blame him for not answering me. But since I was the only customer in the place, he looked at me anyway with feigned interest as he poured my drink.

    “Angels,” I said, and I made what I hoped was a fair impersonation of flapping wings. He laughed and set my drink in front of me, then took a crisp 1000 yen bill from the stack in front of me.

    “How about devils?” I called after him as he walked to the register. He came back with my change and laid it on the counter.

    Debiru?” he asked, and he put fingers to his head like horns.

    “Yeah, sure,” I said looking into my drink. “But not male and not ugly. Not ugly at all. Beautiful. The churches all have it wrong. It’s beauty that will snare a man’s soul; it’s beauty we can’t refuse, and beauty we can’t forget.” I drank half my drink in one gulp and looked up to see the bartender looking at me a little unsure, since the first three drinks had gone down the hatch in rapid succession. What he didn’t know was that I’d been living on a lot more whiskey than sleep in the past few days, as a sort of self-administered prescription to a broken heart.

    “Not all devils are ugly,” I said, more loudly, as though that would make him understand my English. Then more quietly, “And not all angels are innocent.” My eyes took on a faraway stare, as the memories kicked in again, undaunted by the alcohol content of my grey matter.

    He looked around a little desperately, but there was no one else in the bar, and no good reason to walk away. So I pressed my cultural advantage as the honorable okyakusama. Somebody had to hear my story. Anybody. Even if they didn’t understand it.

    I finished my Jamesons and tapped my glass to indicate another round. Then I cleared my throat as he poured.

    “It started a long time ago, I guess,” I began…

    One day, who knows how long ago, Sex became bored and decided to take human form to walk among us mortals. Sex took the shape of a perfect female, an exotic Asian succubus. “I need a name, for the mortals both male and female to moan while they are worshipping me,” Sex said, admiring her new shape in the mirror. Then Sex smiled an alluring smile, and her dark eyes flashed seductively. She said, “I shall call myself, ‘Manami.’”

    Yeah, Manami. And just like so many lost souls before me, I took the bait. Those pictures on her website, in the lingerie, her perfect legs running up to a round rear end unlikely on an Asian woman. The face, visible through the light mosaic, so round and feminine, and the eyes. Yeah. The eyes.

    My drink came and I took a sip this time; the bartender audibly sighed with relief and took another 1000 yen from the stack.

    Contacting her was easy. I was nervous, sure. I’m no newbie to the P4P world, not by any stretch. But my conscience has always demanded that I only do walk-in stuff. Nothing planned in advance. So I can lie to myself and say I’m not really going to do it until right up until the moment when I do it. But this Manami… I paused and took another pull from my whiskey. Jamesons… so smooth but still full of fire, like swallowing a burning swath of velvet. But it wasn’t helping rid me of the memory of Manami’s eyes, her kisses, her scent, her touch. I shook my head, but it wouldn’t clear.

    Manami is different, I went on, though the bartender was cleaning a glass and not looking at me. She has a waiting list. Hundreds of souls, doomed to keep cueing for her attention in tiny doses that arrive too slowly and pass too quickly… I had to book her in advance, I said, which went against everything I’ve done before. But it was easy… maybe too easy. She responded quickly, and she was so friendly, and so it started, this back and forth where we worked out the time, the place, the plan. She encouraged me, and I grew more confident with each email. She even helped me with the arrangements, suggesting the hotel and… other things. She always answered shortly after 11 pm, which is when her daily schedule wraps up, and I started to look forward to hearing from her, which should have been my first clue that I was in for trouble.

    And after a week of sleepless nights and waking daydream days, I found myself in a bar in Shinjuku, two hours early for our date, drinking a local craft beer to try to get my hands to stop shaking. And then the time itself came, and I was sitting in the huge lobby of a love hotel made to look like an island resort, with grating “island” Muzak playing through the speakers. The big soft couch was like a hot bed of nails as I sat and waited for her to arrive. And then she was there, calling my name.

    Nothing had prepared me. Nothing had prepared me for her beauty up close. The whole long trip to Tokyo, I had been looking at every mid-30s Japanese woman, wondering if she looked like them. I could say that I looked at every young German woman and wondered if they looked like Anna, sure, but that’s like saying I looked at every unicorn and wondered if they were going to Candy Mountain. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

    We booked our room, and the nosy young male clerk, upon hearing we would be joined by a third party, asked if it would be male or female, as if that information mattered to him. “Collecting mental images for your ‘wank bank’?” I almost asked him, but Manami answered him in Japanese and soon we were in the elevator with one other person — a resident? A hotel worker? An interference, regardless. I had asked Manami to meet me 90 minutes before Anna, already sacrificing myself at her altar of seduction, so I would have some time to get used to the situation before it got too crazy. Plus, I’ll be honest, I had already been snared by Manami. A long-time germophobe, I’ve almost never allowed myself to indulge my oral fixation on a professional provider. But after looking at Manami’s photos for awhile, I had one thing in mind for our 90 minutes alone together. I wanted to eat. that. pussy.

    Pussy?” the bartender laughed, and it was my first reminder in awhile that he was still here. I nodded and made a crude vagina with the thumbs and index fingers of my hand. He laughed again, but I was in no laughing mood. Manami’s womanhood had been incredible: beautiful as a flower, with nectar as delicious as honeysuckle. I let my hands drop to my glass, which I drained and tapped again, sending the bartender for the bottle.

    We got in the room and I noticed her whole appearance for the first time. Her dress was classy and conservative, and it showed her curves without being overly revealing. And curves she has, in just the right places, more than were dealt to the average Japanese woman. Her hair was perfectly arranged, and her face… well, I already told you about her face. More beautiful in person than I had really allowed myself to hope. From head to toe, she looked almost exactly like one of those stunning mid-30’s women you see in the perfume or makeup section of an expensive department store.

    We talked. It may sound cliche to say we talked like we had known each other for years, so perhaps it’s more accurate to say we talked like we had recently met but weren’t about to get naked together. We talked about her cat, my dog, bugs, worms in half-eaten apples, and half-eaten snakes on your doorstep. The usual sexy foreplay stuff. And then eventually, she took her dress off, but left her blue lingerie on.

    My drink came, and I glared at the bartender for how long it had taken. Or was it only a few seconds? Time, when Manami is involved either in person or in memory, has a way of stretching and compressing. I shrugged and took another drink, and the muted burn on the way down reminded me of the fire in my chest when Manami dropped to her knees in front of me and put me in her mouth. Never mind what anything feels like. The view alone of her gorgeous face enveloping me was heart-stopping. I stopped talking when she did that — and that’s a big deal for me. I felt like an otaku being blown by his favorite AKB48 girl. Manami took her mouth off me for an instant and looked up at me, her dark eyes sparkling, and if it hadn’t happened before, that was the moment that I added Manami’s name to the long list of women that I love.

    As sexy as it was, I couldn’t let her keep going for long. The more I looked at her, the more empty my arms felt, the more my lips grew jealous of my manhood for its contact with her mouth. So, I pulled her up, held her tight and kissed her. It wasn’t the first time I had kissed her, but that doesn’t matter. Every kiss with Manami — and there were thousands — blurs into one kiss, one experience, one moment in time when the whole of Tokyo outside our window came to a standstill. All the traffic and the trains and the crime and the pain and the kids in their playgrounds and aircraft in flight froze when Manami kissed me. Every. Single. Time. And holding her body, so perfect for me, not thin, not fat, but enough woman to be there. Enough to matter. Just exactly like the photos I had been gazing at for a week. Breasts bigger than I expected; an ass that filled my hands to perfection as her lips put mine in a supplication hold and her tongue searched my mouth without a warrant for evidence about how I felt about her.

    That evidence was growing down below, though. So we went to the shower, soaped up, rinsed off and filled the bath, and while it was filling, she sat on the sink and I kneeled before her altar and worshipped her offering of flower petals.

    Just like time itself, my Jamesons seemed to keep evaporating, so I tapped my glass and the bartender turned again to the bottles behind him.

    We moved to the bed, Manami and I (not the bartender… do try to keep up) and I went down on her in earnest while she returned the favor and then, at my request sat on my mouth so I could look up her body to her fabulous breasts and unforgettable face. I followed her instructions and she was getting close when the phone on the nightstand rang… 90 minutes was already up. We had a visitor, and I imagined the young man at the reception desk was dying of jealousy. About one minute later, there was a knock on the door. Manami popped up and answered it nude, while I pulled the covers over me just in time to witness the arrival of an angel.

    There’s probably always something a little awkward about a 3P, but perhaps even more so when one party arrives later, after the other two are naked and have been about it for awhile. Well, it was awkward for me, but not for the ladies. Manami — nude — kissed Anna — in a truly adorable retro/vintage-inspired floral dress complete with petticoat, while I gawked from under the covers at how young and stunning was Miss Anna Summer.

    I knew from her website preferences she’d be dressed the way she was, and she didn’t disappoint. The dress was so cute on her, I almost hated to see it taken off — almost. Manami was the first to request that she disrobe, and Manami and I hugged each other and watched Anna undress with equal fascination.

    Anna. Slender, young, with a face that drew sighs from the depths of my chest. There’s a reason her face is obscured on her website. If it was revealed, men by the thousands would turn up dead in front of their computers, of dehydration or starvation, their staring eyes still transfixed to Anna’s image on the screen. As she shed the layers of her pretty clothing, I stood mesmerized. I had heard she was “slender,” and she is; but she is far from “skinny” or any other negative connotation of the word. Her perfectly matched breasts are just the right size for her frame (a Japanese “D” cup, whatever that tells you) and they are crested by symmetrical little nipples that are perfection themselves. While whatever Danish god was crafting her left in search of a chisel for her abs, Loki crept in and packed a little more clay on her ass, the better to lure men to their doom. If Manami is a Toyota Crown, mid-size and comfortable and luxurious, Anna is lean German engineering, a BMW M-Roadster, stripped of all excess weight but with alluring curves nonetheless. Her face, too, contrasted perfectly to Manami’s round Asian beauty, with gentle angles from her cheekbones to her chin and eyes that constantly ask you, “What am I thinking?” From any angle, Anna is cute; and from certain angles, she is simply art.

    Once the preliminaries were over, which were ultimately more relaxed and less awkward than I ever would have expected, the three of us were on the bed, Anna on her back and Manami and I hovering over her, Manami to my left (Anna’s right). Manami leaned in to kiss Anna and I watched and then time froze and I held my breath, like when a fawn and her foals suddenly steps out of the bushes near you and you don’t want to startle them. Anna, you see, instinctively leaned up towards Manami, her lips pursed, with a look in her eyes that said, “Yes, I am waiting; I want your kiss.” My breath caught in my throat for the barest instant, and in that flash of genuine desire for the lips of another woman, I added Anna’s name to the long, long list of women that I love.

    Manami and I kissed our way down her tight, young body, and Anna lay quietly with her eyes closed. Manami was first to Anna’s valley, and when I moved down to join her there, Manami pushed me out of the way with a look like a dog gives a smaller dog around their shared food bowl. So, I went to work on Anna’s legs, stomach, breasts (not her most sensitive spot, I later learned) and finally went up to her head, which I cradled while Manami slowly, slowly, and quietly worked her nether lips. And beautiful they were. I’m tired of using that word, but I am at a loss for equivalents. Different from Manami’s but glorious in their own right, Anna’s own folds were heart-stirring, breath-stealing, and soul-capturing.

    I cradled her head, and kissed her awhile — Anna’s reputation for kissing is well-earned. I was hesitant to kiss her at first. She’s so young; at least Manami was born in the same millennium as me if several decades later. OK, Anna was, too, but just barely. But when she leaned up to kiss me while Manami worked her below, the feeling I got was one of peaceful passion, a gentle caring swelling up in me.

    I looked at the bartender, but he had long ago stopped listening. My glass was empty, and when I tilted it, I could still see images of Anna’s lovely face, her soft brown hair falling in front of it and then away as she tilted her head, down in the last ripples of the amber liquor.

    The rest of the experience is as you might expect. A blur of incredibly gorgeous faces, doing things to or around me, kissing each other inches from my eyes, my mouth and hands exploring each of them either in rotation or simultaneously, the sensations indescribable, even by a self-proclaimed wordsmith like me. I can tell you that they are so different, but both so perfect in their own way. Their breasts, their stomachs, their eyes, their mouths, their hair, their rear ends, each a constantly renewed fascination. Manami: soft, aggressive, wet beyond description. Anna: delicate but firm, passive, tight beyond belief.

    I looked from my glass to the bartender to the whiskey bottle on the shelf. Not enough booze in that bottle, I thought… not enough booze in the world, to wash these images from my mind. And why would I want to? We’ll get to that.

    Afterwards, we’re in the jacuzzi, absently holding each other, talking about the crazy shit that I have come to realize is what we all talk about with providers after the sex. Laws and allergies, gluten and tea, and kegel exercises (Anna can do something that you just have to experience to believe). Always, their beautiful bodies casually against mine, their perfect faces, their sparkling eyes on either side of me. And me begging silently to a God I don’t believe in, not to let the time keep ticking away.

    And then like the whiskey, the time was gone. We dressed, we packed, we left. On the street, we hesitated, talked about the directions we would walk. Anna one way, Manami the other, and me standing in the middle watching them go.

    Watching them go.

    I hollered at the bartender, perhaps a little too loudly; but goddammit. Another whiskey. Now.

    But it’s too late. In my mind, Manami’s hips are swaying in her white and black dress, Anna’s soft brown hair and floral vintage dress are blowing in the breeze as they recede down the street, each of them the only color images on a black and white cityscape. The urge to call out to them, either of them, both of them… wait! Wait. I’ll do anything for a few more minutes. Anything. Name your price. We don’t have to do anything more than just let me look in your eyes a few more seconds. Manami, I’ll put my hand around your waist. Anna, just put that quirky unsure smile on your face. One more time. Just for a few more minutes.

    But that’s not how it works.

    Not how it works.

    The bartender is wiping the bar with a rag, and he shoots a look up at the clock. Once again, my time is gone. He takes my empty glass and puts it in the sink and gives me a smile that implies a boot to the ass to get out the door so he can go home, maybe to a real girlfriend, maybe one with sparkling eyes, soft hair, a quirky smile. One who won't walk away.

    I stand and scoop up the few remaining bills and coins on the bar. I breathe in, straighten my back, and face the door. We know this stuff going in. We know the game; we agree to the contract. We know they are going to be better than the real world, just like Disneyland. But I get melancholy when Disneyland closes, walking to the parking lot, facing the traffic and the drive home, everyone else asleep in the car, me alone with my thoughts again.

    Say I’m an old fool, call me a patsy. It’s nothing I won’t call myself on the long, long train ride home.

    Final Thoughts:
    Recommended, Will not Repeat.

    Closing Comments:
    Recommended, Will not Repeat. What a shitty period to put on the experience. Let's look at it further.

    Recommended. Should you try this particular 3P? Oh. Hell. Yes. Uncle NED has done a lot of crazy shit in a lot of countries with a lot of women, sometimes in a big oily pile that may have had me occasionally kissing my own legs without even realizing it. But none of it compares to this experience. The chemistry between these two is electric, and they are such a perfect contrast to each other, and so very beautiful (ugh, there's that word again). My gentlemanly nature prevents me from detailing the most amazing experiences that were well worth anything this cost. Book them, and book them for as long as they are willing. I recommend a week.

    Will not repeat. I probably won't do this 3P again. Why repeat something that was perfect? The next time can't top perfection, so that leaves it being "worse" even if it's amazing. Why paint that over the memory I already have? Will I repeat with Manami or Anna separately? I hope so. They are every bit as incredible as I dared hope. I'm not saying that because I think they will read this. Would Uncle NED lie to you, gents? But I don't know if I'll even do that. I'm leaving Japan for six months pretty soon, for one thing. And unlike my spur-of-the-moment low-end shop excursions, meeting these high-class ladies is hard on the NEDster; hard for me to get over. What can I say? I adore women, my friends. I just love them all. So, the angel on my shoulder tells me to quit this. But the devil on the other shoulder reminds me there are still things I want to do. I want to make long eye contact with Alice. I've heard her eyes can burn right into your soul, and mine deserves to be purified by fire. And, for reasons I can't explain, I want to put my arms around her waist while she pulls aside the shoulder straps of her dress and lets it fall to the floor. I also want to stand to Hana's left, and see her exactly as she is in her avatar pic, so I can nuzzle her beautiful shoulder, and look up and see that wicked smile and maybe touch her fantastic black hair. And I want to go see Kanye West with Mischa.

    OK, I'm lying about that last one. Maybe Public Enemy will tour again and we can go to that.
     
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  2. Frenchy

    FrenchyFrenchy is a Verified Member Peace, Love and Camembert

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    Damn you're good! Thanks and congrats! (Can't believe you said so much to a bartender though!)
     
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  3. MikeH

    MikeHMikeH is a Verified Member Presumably Male

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    I would like to place on record that I do hate NED.

    It's because of him I will have a terrible hangover tomorrow as now I need to go and get me a bottle of Jameson Black Barrel to wipe out the memory of a 3P I didn't even have!
     
  4. italianguy

    italianguy TAG Member

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    i dont get emotional very often but this put a tear in my eye.. the best thing i red in here so far. Bravo!
     
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  5. Manami TMK

    Manami TMKManami TMK is a Verified Member Tokyo Escort

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    Gosh, so it was... you, @Not Even Dave

    Thank you for sharing a great afternoon with us. It was one memorable date for me, too indeed.
    I really love the way of your writing. And I would love to be the bartender to hear all of your interesting yet romantic stories. No worry, it would be confidential ;)
    The only problem is I don't know anything about drink.
     
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  6. Wwanderer

    WwandererWwanderer is a Verified Member Kids, don't try this at home!

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    Bali-An has apparently raised its rates big time!!! :D

    -Ww
     
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  7. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    This is the Resort; I think there are three Bali-An. And we chose kind of a mid-tier room.
     
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  8. User#19043

    User#19043 TAG Member

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    Thak
     

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  9. User#19043

    User#19043 TAG Member

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    Siol na fear fearail
     
  10. Wwanderer

    WwandererWwanderer is a Verified Member Kids, don't try this at home!

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    I was referring to your typo in the price...thus the smilie face.

    -Ww
     
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  11. Frenchy

    FrenchyFrenchy is a Verified Member Peace, Love and Camembert

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    Who knows maybe it was the real price , he just asked the room to be fitted with golden furniture and the bath filled with Dom Perignon? :D
     
  12. Anna Summer

    Anna SummerAnna Summer is a Verified Member Independent Escort

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    Once again, I can't thank you enough for bringing me together with the gorgeous Manami again. :love:
    Still remember the sweet lipstick on my lips from her after we kissed in the elevator :oops:

    And you never fail to impress me with your writing skills. Now imagine you really tell that a barkeeper in Japan. I'd love to see his reaction. :p
     
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  13. namae

    namae TAG Member

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    But my love is bigger than a Honda
    Yeah, it's bigger than a Subaru
     
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  14. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    Damn, didn't even see it when you pointed it out.
     
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  15. chinshiko

    chinshiko TAG Member

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    @Not Even Dave Wow! Your April budget for p4p is the envy of everyone here ;)
     
  16. TheScientist

    TheScientist TAG Member

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  17. stringen

    stringen TAG Member

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    Been reading all of your reviews @Not Even Dave and WOW. I'm so impressed from your writing skills. I've read alot of good reviews here on TAG but now they all seem so average compared to yours :) Guess I will stay tuned for the next one :)
     
  18. Taylorjp

    Taylorjp TAG Member

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    Such an appropriate avatar I have;) Having competed with @Manami TMK at the honey spot on more than one occasion, I raise my glass to you sir on such a brilliant line!
     
    #18 Taylorjp, Apr 13, 2017
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  19. namae

    namae TAG Member

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    Would it be poor etiquette to simply fall back to the end of the line - play snatch conga?
     
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  20. Taylorjp

    Taylorjp TAG Member

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    Steer clear of her bunghole and no foul will called;
     
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  21. Frenchy

    FrenchyFrenchy is a Verified Member Peace, Love and Camembert

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    Ok call me a total retard but i have no clue what you guys mean here . Pleeeeease explain to a silly Frog what this all means . You will be rewarded handsomely in "Likes"
     
  22. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    Miss Anna Summer does not allow any anal play, to include rimming her.
     
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  23. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    Damn, sorry, I forgot to call you a total retard! ;)
     
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  24. Frenchy

    FrenchyFrenchy is a Verified Member Peace, Love and Camembert

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    Its ok, i call myself a total retard every morning , good way to start the day! So what is "playing snatch conga"?
     
  25. Not Even Dave

    Not Even Dave Licking Girl’s Clown

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    I believe he is making a reference to a "conga line," a novelty dance that was derived from the Cuban carnival dance of the same name and became popular in the US in the 1930s and 1950s. The dancers form a long, processing line, which would usually turn into a circle.

    So he is playfully saying to take turns at the Y (aka "snatch") since Manami doesn't like to share a tasty meal. (Neither does Anna, she pushed me away from Manami's sweet Y, too. So hungry, these girls!)
     
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    #25 Not Even Dave, Apr 13, 2017
    Last edited: Apr 13, 2017
    chinshiko, TheScientist and Frenchy like this.

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