When Eri left later that morning she took a piece of Katsumi with her. Katsumi had only ever let one other person do that to her and she’d paid the price for it.
They had both been 16. Miho had met Katsumi a week after her father had “left”. Katsumi had spent much of her time out of the house, already feeling isolated from her mother, her father’s departure had increased her need for solitude. She sought out quiet spaces, in her head and if such a thing were possible, in the heaving metropolis.
It was on one of her many directionless walks that Miho had caught her eye. She had stopped on the pavement, unsure of which direction to turn. Home? Not yet her mother’s solemn face made her feel uncomfortable. Where too next? She scanned the streets heading off left, right and centre. Her gaze alighted on a smiling Miho. Katsumi felt her previously sullen expression break into a weak smile. Despite herself she exchanged greetings.
Neither of them looking back could explain why they had begun to talk. They were complete strangers, Katsumi miles from home. They even attended different schools. It made no difference, within days they were firm friends, soul mates whose personalities complemented each other perfectly. Katsumi was forthright, impulsive, passionate, meticulous. Miho reserved, quiet and a little naÃ¯ve. But there was passion in Miho, a passion that she shared with Katsumi a month after they first met.
Katsumi had been invited to Miho’s parents house, that was a revelation in itself, a family rich enough to buy a house. Katsumi and her mother had already been forced to move to a smaller apartment, so stepping into the traditional stone and timber home inhabited by Miho’s family felt like travelling to a different universe. Miho’s parents were polite to her but distant. She got the feeling that she was not the sort of friend they would have liked for their daughter, because of her address and the conduct of Katsumi’s father.
They spent the night in the summerhouse at the bottom of a garden that would have swallowed a whole apartment block. Miho’s parents obviously assumed the two girls would sleep apart
The lights in the summerhouse were extinguished almost as soon as Miho’s parents had bid them goodnight and retreated to the main house. Miho slid under the sheet next to Katsumi. The light from the full moon filtered in through the skylight turning the room silver and grey. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to hold each other, they were friends after all. Then a kiss, it was a sign of affection, at first.
Then something happened, neither could tell who made the first move to undress, but one followed the other’s lead and soon they were naked next to each other. Their hard nipples were pressed against soft flesh and kisses, at first innocent, soon became deep and intoxicating.
The rising excitement was accompanied by an intense sexual aroma as they both felt a rush unlike anything they had attained in the privacy of their bedrooms fantasising about the latest boy band. Their hands began to explore, Miho taking the lead as the hidden passion inside was released. Katsumi was almost shocked as Miho cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently and sucked each erect nipple in turn, back and forth, until they tingled.
Miho then slid a hand down to the moist furrow between Katsumi’s legs and gently rubbed her engorged clitoris. She brought the fingers back to her face where they both savoured the exquisite essence of femininity with which they were now coated. Katsumi knew what she wanted to do, needed to do. She pushed Miho onto her back and dropped her head to kiss her stomach. Miho writhed as Katsumi’s tongue traced a delicate and inexorable path to her pussy.
It was a first time for both of them, with a partner of any sex. It seemed to natural and a little innocent, yet these were two sixteen year old girls, hormones racing passion flowing in their minds and between their legs. They knew what this meant and yet they had no regrets, whatever anyone else might think of them.
Katsumi swung her leg over Miho’s head and positioned herself to allow Miho easy access to her expectant labia. Katsumi began to lick Miho’s clitoris, flicking it with her tongue and sucking gently. Miho reciprocated, moaning from the joyous sensation between her own legs and the delicious flavour of Katsumi’s wet pussy. They were unhurried and spent hours exploring each other that night. They formed a mass of ghostly white limbs and torsos in the silvery moonlight, undulating and moving flesh on flesh.
Around two in the morning Katsumi slid two fingers inside Miho for the first time. Miho’s gentle whimpers of pleasure were silenced. The penetration of the place where no fingers but her own had been before seemed to change her. Miho pushed herself down onto Katsumi’s hand, far harder then Katsumi would have dared. Miho gasped with the intensity of the sensation, for an instant turning pleasure to pain. Katsumi withdrew her fingers slightly and began to move around inside Miho.
They both pulled themselves up into a squatting position, Miho sliding two fingers inside Katsumi’s hot snatch. The next ten minutes saw each building to their first orgasm together as they discovered what the other enjoyed and drew on the other’s obvious arousal. They came seconds apart and leant against one another for support hands and pussies drenched in glistening fluid.
Their relationship grew more intense over the next few weeks, they became inseparable. Only school and the impracticality of staying at each other’s houses more often than they were allowed meant they spent any time apart at all.
But it was not to last, Miho’s mother began to look at them in a peculiar way when she saw them holding hands. Miho sensed it too and remarked on the rising tension whenever she announced she was going out to meet Katsumi. Then one day the phone call Katsumi dreaded was taken by her mother.
“Miho’s mother says that it would be best if Miho and you did not see each other again.”
“Why? We L… we’re best friends.” Katsumi had protested.
“Because we are your parents and know what is best.”
And that was the end of it. Katsumi never saw Miho again, not in the flesh at least. She pined for weeks and was inconsolable, though her mother seemed to regard Katsumi’s ordeal as character building. Or perhaps a punishment for not being so distraught as her when Katsumi’s father died.
The last image of Miho in Katsumi’s head was from the photograph under the newspaper headline, “Tokyo Industrialist and Wife found Murdered”. ” … their daughter, Miho Hayashi, is being held by police …”.