Sex is the best way to learn about other cultures. - Chapter 2

On the outskirts of Los Angeles, there was a restaurant that looked like a rundown café.

I had come all the way to America. Ideally, I wanted to try local places like real diners or greasy spoons, but unfortunately, there was nothing like that around. So I ended up going to an old restaurant where I saw pickup trucks and classic American cars parked outside—something I never saw back home.

It was just past eleven o’clock.

The inside of the restaurant was full of rough-looking customers. Remembering my nightmare on 5th Street, I almost turned around at the door, but a voice stopped me.

“One person?”

It was a waiter at the restaurant.

She had vibrant blonde hair and was about the age of a high school student in Japan. She was white, with emerald-colored eyes.

Her pretty twin ponytails were accented by a red hairband. Her face was a bit intense, but she was still such a pretty girl that it just added to her personality.

She wore a white apron, the mark of a waitress, along with what seemed like her own shirt and miniskirt. The glimpse of skin from her black knee socks was dazzling. Compared to Japanese high school girls, her hips and chest seemed quite developed.

“Y-yes. One person…”

I had planned to turn back, but the blonde girl’s question caught me off guard. I couldn’t help but answer. It’s hard to deal with so many pretty women and girls here.

“O.K.”

Compared to Japan, the waitresses here were much less courteous. They treated customers like they were old acquaintances, with careless attitudes. As she turned away, I felt her scornful glance aimed at me. I’m sure it wasn’t just my imagination.

A small heckle is heard from the other side of the table. I don’t understand what they’re saying in English, but it’s probably something discriminatory against me for being Asian.

It depends on the individual, but it seems that even in the free country of America, there is still some discrimination against Asians.

I’m shown to a seat by the wall and urged to order. The waitress was so impatient that I hadn’t even received a glass of water yet.

“Th-this…”

In a panic, I ordered a hamburger steak set, which is common in Japan. In truth, there was something else I wanted to eat, but I couldn’t bear the waitress’s glaring gaze.

Then, without saying a word, she typed my order into her handheld and disappeared into the kitchen.

Although it didn’t say anywhere that it was self-service, there was no sign of her bringing me a glass of water.

(This place feels uncomfortable…)

No one was picking on me like last time, but I could tell other customers were making snide remarks now and then.

(I’m caught between a rock and a hard place here. I need to get to a safer, quieter town as soon as possible…)

After about thirty minutes, the same server brought out my hamburger set.

The food looked far less appetizing than the pictures on the menu. But I knew it would be a waste of time to complain in my rusty English, so I had no choice but to accept it quietly and eat. Maybe it was just an off day for the chef…

“…!”

Suddenly, my eyes were glued to one spot.

As the server bent down to put the plate on the table, her cleavage was completely exposed.

A pink bra and a pure white valley burst into my view.

True to its reputation, even the teenage girl had a great body. She might have been an F cup or more.

“JAP.”

I looked up, and the waiter was glaring at me with a ferocious expression.

Even a complete idiot like me knows that the word Jap is a discriminatory term.

It seems that the combination of discriminatory attitudes towards Japanese people and disgust at the lewd gaze had resulted in me receiving the most scornful words possible.

When she said something in English, a cheer erupted from the audience. It seemed like I was being made fun of, but fortunately for me, I don’t understand English.

I decided to finish my meal quickly and look for a place to stay for the night.

Trying to ignore the eyes around me, I focused on eating my hamburger set. I couldn’t taste it, but I could tell it wasn’t very good.

The inside of the hamburger steak was undercooked, and the french fries were a little cold, probably because they were frozen.

I finished my tasteless, un-American dinner, but then I realized something terrible:

My wallet was nowhere to be found.

It couldn’t be, I thought.

I searched my backpack and pockets, but my wallet was nowhere to be found. I thought I might have dropped it on the floor, so I looked there too, but there was no sign of it.

Then it hit me.

About twelve hours earlier, I’d had my first-ever s3x with a prostitute on top of a trash heap.

The session lasted for hours, ending only when she fainted. I didn’t want to pay a huge sum, so I fled the scene as quickly as I could. But in all that confusion, someone must have stolen my wallet.

There’s no way such a beautiful woman would give it away for free, I thought.

That would explain everything. She must have taken my wallet from my pocket beforehand, then let me have my way with her as much as I wanted.

That’s why she was so eager to please.

We’d had s3x like a couple in love, spending sweet time together.

I had been completely deceived.

I was in the wrong for trying to run without paying, but that wallet held everything I owned, including cards and cash.

My passport was in my bag, but my driver’s license, money, and cash card were all in that wallet.

“What should I do…?”

In a foreign land with no friends, I’d gone from fine to broke in one night.

I wanted to call for help, but this was America. I didn’t have the money to call Taku, and even if I did, there was no way he’d come to this place at this hour.

At a loss, I could only wait for time to pass without doing anything.

I knew that the passage of time wouldn’t change anything, but it was a kind of mental paralysis.

An incredibly long time passed, and it was now midnight.

When I came to my senses, there was no other customer left.

I was the last person left in the place. Which meant…

“HEY JAP.”

The same waitress was standing over me.

It’s closing time. Even without knowing the words, I understood what she meant as clear as day.

What should I do?

Should I be honest and apologize?

Should I take advantage of the fact that she was a girl and run away?

I didn’t have many options left.

I didn’t know what they would do to me if they found out I had been eating and drinking without paying.

But I had no desire to run away.

Dine-and-dash is a crime in any country, and I couldn’t add a story about eating without paying to the tales I’d bring back for Taku.

“Ah, I’m sorry… have no money.” 

As I said this in a faint voice, I could feel the waiter’s veins burst.

“Fvck you, JAP!!”

There was something arousing about a cute girl like that saying “fvck,” but the situation was going in a very bad direction.

She called over a man in chef’s clothes from the kitchen and excitedly explained the situation.

(This dirty Jap ordered food even though he doesn’t have a cent—) I didn’t understand all the words, but I got the general idea.

I wanted to explain that I’d been robbed, but I didn’t know how to say it in English.

First of all, being robbed doesn’t excuse you from eating and drinking without paying. After all, you should at least check whether you have a wallet or not before entering a restaurant.

Just as I was preparing myself for the police to be called, the man in the chef’s uniform suddenly burst out laughing.

The tall, muscular young white man with his clean-cut features was talking to the waiter as if I didn’t even exist.

“Wait! Mike!”

The handsome man, who was called Mike, removed his apron and disappeared into the back of the store.

(Who cares about one or two people eating without paying?) His broad back seemed to say.

“Fvck you…”

The girl looked at the man’s back as he left and started to work, with a lonely look on her face.

Maybe she liked him. That’s why she couldn’t be harsh, even if he was being careless. Maybe she had no choice but to follow him quietly.

As I stared at her lonely profile, she glared at me. Her frustrated face was the perfect expression to describe it.

Perhaps I’d be forgiven. But before I knew it, she pointed to the back of the kitchen. It seemed like she was telling me to come in.

I entered the kitchen hesitantly and found it to be in a terrible state. The ingredients were scattered everywhere, and plates were piled high with leftovers in the sink.

The man was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he had just left.

“Your job.”

“Eh?”

I couldn’t help but repeat her words.

If my middle school-level listening skills were anything to go by, she would have said, “Now it’s your job.”

Then, without saying a word, she disappeared out of the kitchen. Just when I thought she had left, she was fiddling with her smartphone in the hall.

She probably couldn’t just leave me, a stranger, alone in the restaurant. It seemed she decided to keep an eye on the entrance to make sure I didn’t try to escape.

Who would’ve thought I’d end up washing dishes in America?

And what a mess it is! That guy seems to have no idea what “clean up” means. Ingredients are just left on the chopping board.

(Guess I made this mess myself.)

Whatever, I’m responsible for eating without paying. If they’ll forgive me for that with just one night of dishwashing, I’ll consider myself lucky.

I still have the big problem of how to live from tomorrow, but for now, I’ll just tackle the issue right in front of me.

“Kitchens are all the same everywhere.”

Having worked part-time at a bar before, I was used to washing dishes. I didn’t know the local rules for where to put things, but the process of washing dishes with detergent on a sponge is probably the same in almost every country.

After putting the ingredients in the fridge and spending about an hour washing dishes, I started sweeping the floor with a broom hanging on the wall.

They probably don’t clean properly here most of the time. Every time I swept with the brush, more dirt came up. No wonder the food in this place isn’t very good.

After a while, she came into the kitchen. She’d taken off her apron and was wearing her clothes.

“Wow.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of the kitchen, now spotlessly clean. She must have thought I’d just be doing a half-hearted job. I’m not boasting, but I’ve been trained by a bar owner on how to properly clean a kitchen.

The manager used to say, “You can’t make good food in a dirty kitchen.”

Whether her anger had cooled with time or for some other reason, she seemed perfectly calm now.

It was almost 2 AM, so maybe she was just tired.

I was curious though—why would a teenager like her be working at this hour?

“Huh?”

Then, for some reason, she handed me a Coke from the bar. She seemed to want me to drink it.

“Th-Thanks.”

Worried it might be poisoned, I cautiously took a sip. But it was just regular cola. Maybe because I’d just finished my work, it even tasted better than usual.

I never expected to get a drink for free after eating without paying.

She poured herself a Coke, sat down on a chair in the kitchen, and began to talk to me.

She probably knew I didn’t understand English. In other words, she was just talking to herself.

I couldn’t tell if it was complaining or just chatting, but it was better than talking to a wall.

Eventually, her monologue turned into questions directed at me.

I don’t know the exact meaning, but I think she was probably saying something like, “Why are you in America when you have no money and don’t understand English?”

“I’m a heartbreaker.”

I answered honestly.

That I had just been heartbroken.

That’s why I was traveling.

She seemed to be carefully considering my words. After a moment, as if she finally understood what I meant, she said with a hint of exasperation.

“You are crazy.”

I have to agree.

I threw away my time with my best friend, came here on a whim, and now I’m penniless in a foreign land.

It’s a pathetic, crazy story.

Then she said something while avoiding my eyes. I couldn’t hear her clearly, so when I asked her to repeat it, she hastily said, “Forget it.” over and over.

She realized she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

Just then…

“Oh!”

She must have been flustered. She spilled cola all over my pants.

It’s a classic trope in romantic comedies, but having cold cola poured on your crotch is not comfortable.

“Sorry…”

For the first time today, she looked genuinely apologetic. I suppose she felt bad about what happened.

Unfortunately, these pants were my only pair. I carried a few changes of underwear and shirts, but I hadn’t brought any extra pants because they take up too much space.

In the end, I washed my pants in the store’s washing machine and waited for them to dry there.

Well, it’s not like I could find a hotel at this late hour anyway. It’s perfect for me, but I wonder if it’s okay with her.

If she don’t go home, her parents will probably get worried.

“You can go to sleep.”

She must mean that it’s fine for me to sleep. But I can’t just leave her awake while I go to bed.

And I certainly can’t suggest sleeping together.

So, I ended up staying in my chair, waiting for my pants to dry.

I forgot to mention that my pants had been hung out to dry, so I was now just wearing my boxers. I was wearing a T-shirt, but it was still embarrassing to be in just my underwear in front of a cute girl.

As we sat there, she started pretending to row a boat in her chair. I still had jet lag, so I wasn’t sleepy, but for locals, it was time to be in bed by 2 AM.

The pure white cleavage that I had seen earlier was peeking out from her exposed chest.

They were firm br3asts, typical of a teenager.

They stood out beautifully in a rocket shape as if to assert that she was already an adult.

The length of her legs and the plumpness of her thighs were just what you’d expect from a white girl.

To me, who had just lost my virginity yesterday, the sight was almost too much to handle.

If things kept going this way, I’d be in serious trouble.

I had to at least cover her chest with a blanket or something—

Just as I stood up with that thought in mind, she woke up at an unfortunate time.

“What…?”

For a moment, she seemed lost, not knowing what was happening.

When I stood up, my crotch was perfectly tented.

I had gotten an erection from staring at her defenseless sleeping form.

I forgot about that and stood up from my chair, which resulted in the bulge of my crotch being boldly asserted.

It was the very image of a total pervert.

“Fvck you Jap!!”

Naturally, she screamed and pushed me away. I fell onto the wet floor, and to make things even worse, my p3nis was now proudly on display through the window.

I hadn’t realized it until recently, but my p3nis is much larger than average, and when erect it immediately spills out of my pants.

She was, of course, speechless when she saw it.

I had never expected to show her my rock-hard p3nis, either.

There was silence.

There I was, exposing my stiff p3nis to a teenage girl in an empty restaurant.

This time, I could not avoid calling the police.

I braced for her to scream and run, but she didn’t.

She didn’t call the police on her smartphone, which was nearby, or call for help.

She just stood there, staring at my p3nis.

“Do you want to fvck me?”

Although she was hesitant, she said it in a very straightforward way. Do you want to fvck me?

Instinctively, yes, but rationally, no. Rationally, I have no desire to attack her.

However, my English skills were far too poor to express that.

If I said “yes” here, I’d be reported for sure. But saying “no” wouldn’t be convincing enough either.

In the end, I had no choice but to go silent.

When you can’t answer, silence is the only option.

I don’t know how she took my behavior.

But then, out of nowhere, she grabbed my rock-hard p3nis and started sucking on it with her cute little mouth.

“Ah…”

This was only the second blowjob I’d ever gotten in my life.

I let out a pathetic moan.

Even if I tried to hold back, it was impossible with her mouth feeling so good.

Why was she sucking on my p3nis?

Weren’t Japanese people supposed to be discriminated against?

All sorts of questions crossed my mind, but I knew there were no answers. All I could do was silently endure her blowjob.

The long, long blowjob continued.

As she got on all fours, her ample cleavage was visible from her chest, making my erection get harder and harder.

Unfortunately, I have delayed ejaculation.

I had heard from Takuma that delayed ejaculation is frowned upon, so it was a slight complex for me, but in this situation, I thought it was a good deal to be able to enjoy the inside of her mouth for a long time.

Her tongue crawled along the underside of my p3nis, and her smooth hands stimulated the base of my rod.

In the kitchen of a restaurant in a foreign country, I was being given a blowjob by a blonde-haired teenager.

It was just like yesterday with the prostitute—it felt surreal, like a dream. I kept thinking, This isn’t real. I’m actually at home in my bed, not in America.

But the dream didn’t end. Instead, I felt the unmistakable sensation of orgasm building in my urethra.

“Ahh!”

I moan, sounding like a girl again.

I ejaculated into her face while lying on my back.

A day’s worth of semen soiled her beautiful figure.

Covered in semen, she licked up the last drop from my glans.

“Why?”

She seemed to be asking herself over and over again.

Why am I sucking a Jap’s p3nis?

Why am I receiving his dirty semen all over my body?

Why have I pulled up my shirt in front of him, and even removed my underwear?

Why am I exposing my br3asts and pale pink n1pples in front of him, and even putting my hands on my skirt and shorts?

Why am I exposing my pvssy in front of him, and trying to straddle him?

My p3nis, still going strong even after ejaculation, was being swallowed up by her pink slit.

Why was she so wet? I had never even touched her body.

“AHHHH…” 

The blonde girl’s tight pvssy swallows my p3nis whole.

I couldn’t insert it all the way in, so I raised my hips, but the white teenager’s pvssy felt incredibly good.

She pulled up her shirt and looked at me with a longing look on her face.

I grabbed her firm br3asts with both hands and started thrusting from below.

“AH!! OH MY GOD!!”

She was shaking her hips with all her might.

Why was she giving herself to me?

Maybe she was planning to take my money like the prostitute yesterday, but she knew I was broke.

If that was the case, why was she accepting my p3nis? Why was she allowing the head of my p3nis to knock on her cervix without a condom?

There was no point in thinking about it.

Once s3x had started, there was no way for me to stop my hips.

Even if she cried and begged me to stop, I would continue to move my hips underneath her.

“AH!! UNBELIEVABLE!!”

Matching her movements, I began to piston in and out.

Her firm teenage br3asts bounced up and down above me.

Her white n1pples could best be described as pale pink, so pale that they were often indistinguishable from the color of her flushed skin.

The shape and size were perfect, and just looking at them was enough to make me want to come.

I grabbed her slender waist and thrust my p3nis deep inside her, and she let out an even higher-pitched cry and shook her hips violently.

Her v4g1na tightened.

Although she was supposed to be arrogant, drool was overflowing lazily from the corner of her mouth.

We were both at our limit.

My p3nis, not prepared for the suddenness of it all, was already preparing to ejaculate, even after the first insertion.

It seemed like she was going to climax at any moment.

Her reason had long since been blown away, and she had become an animal, simply swinging her hips on top of me.

“AHHHHHH!!!”

After a fierce final spurt, she screamed.

I also uninhibitedly ejaculated into her v4g1na.

My second ejaculation of the day felt like I was being milked by the walls of her v4g1na.

“Oh, my god…”

She was already exhausted from continuing to swing her hips on top of me.

Yet for some reason—maybe it was just my age—my p3nis showed no signs of weakening.

“Oh! Fvck me! Fvck me JAP!!”

Naturally, I ended up fucking her in a variety of positions.

We tried everything from the missionary position, but also in the standing and side positions, doggy style in the restaurant hall, and even costume play with an apron on.

We made love until the morning came, kissing each other sweetly like lovers.

Naturally, we didn’t use condoms, and I don’t know how many times I came inside her.

The next morning came.

She took out five ten-dollar bills from the register and handed them to me.

It seemed like she meant it as pay for my part-time work.

Even if I was paid ten dollars an hour, I’d only work about two hours. Including food and drink, it shouldn’t have been ten dollars.

So, did that include s3x with her?

“Ten p.m.”

She pointed at the clock on the wall, specifying the time.

It seemed she meant for me to come back to the restaurant tonight.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered.

I was currently broke, so I was more than happy to hear about work. But the idea that my job now included s3x with her was… well, it felt kind of weird.

Or rather, was it really okay for her to hire a part-timer on her initiative? Maybe she was the owner of this store or something?

“What’s your name?”

We realized then that we hadn’t even introduced ourselves since arriving here.

It was pretty funny, considering we’d already spent a whole night together, including s3x.

“Da, Daisuke. What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth. Please call me ‘Liz’.”

“L-Liz, nice to meet you.”

In the end, I ended up working at Liz’s restaurant for three days.

After closing, we’d have s3x like we did today, spending the whole night loving each other.

Those were very happy days, but my goal was to travel around the world. I couldn’t stay at the starting line forever.

When I asked Liz if I could go on another trip, she desperately tried to stop me.

Is there such a shortage of staff at this restaurant?

It didn’t seem like it, but it seemed like she had a reason for not wanting to let me go.

In the end, she even told me the blatant lie, “I love you, Daisuke.” So that day, after I’d taken Liz to a nearby hotel instead of the restaurant, I gave her my contact information and hugged her gently. I told her I had somewhere else to be.

For a restaurant employee to go this far just to keep a part-time worker—I guess the labor shortage in the food industry has reached the United States too.

What a cruel world we live in.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Day 3-5: Los Angeles City Center to Outskirts

Distance Traveled: 4 km (Total: 6 km)

Mode of Transportation: Walking

Money on Hand: $1,034

Expenses:

Wallet Lost: -$1,034 (803,567 yen – unrecoverable)

Lucy Part-time Work (3 days): +$150

Lucy’s Food, Drink, and Accommodation: $0

Remaining Balance: $150

Past Encounters: 2 people

Catherine McBride (27)

Elizabeth Carter (18)