Sex is the Best Way to Learn About Other Cultures. - Chapter 3.5 Female Prespective

In my country, Estonia, many people believe women should stay at home.

My mother was a full-time homemaker, and having been raised by her, I, too, possess some degree of virtue and longing for domestic life.

If I could just meet a wonderful person someday…

Such thoughts aren’t entirely absent from my mind. The happiness of being a woman, the happiness of being a mother—these exist universally, not just in Estonia.

But I had another dream.

To become an artist.

Not that I wanted to be like Van Gogh or Renoir. I simply wanted to be a competent artist, someone who could draw moderately well and have a certain number of people appreciate my work.

I never thought I could make a living from art alone.

You have artistic sense, but I don’t think you can make a living with that alone.

It’s heartless to say, but these words have been spoken to me by several people, including my father.

Among them was a former lover. I understand they all meant well, worried about my future.

In this country, where the idea that women should stay at home is particularly strong, it is rare to find a woman like me who aspires to be an artist.

I loved drawing people.

Landscapes were fun too, but with portraits, I felt I could glimpse someone’s inner self. I enjoyed experimenting with how to capture that essence using paint or pencils.

After graduating from an art university, I set myself a challenge.

I moved alone to Tallinn Old Town and tried to make a living selling paintings to tourists.

I had savings, but once they ran out, the experiment would be over.

Then it would be time to find a proper job or look for a husband.

First, I’d spend a year testing whether I could survive as an artist.

If it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t look back. I’d abandon the path of a full-time artist without hesitation.

That’s the challenge I, Ena Claus, began this summer.

At first, things went better than expected.

In Tallinn Old Town, a World Heritage site, many artists sold landscape paintings on the streets. But not a single one focused on portraits.

Still, as I anticipated, interest gradually waned.

Most visitors to Tallinn were tourists, and even accounting for the fact that everyone was a first-time passerby, my “business” failed to thrive.

Soon, men started making outrageous offers: “I’ll pay €300 for one night with you,” they’d say.

I’m aware of my inherited beauty from my mother, but I refused to associate with men who lacked such basic decency.

What’s the point of a one-night stand without any intention of marriage?

Why would you think such an insincere thing?

I was utterly exhausted by these pick-up artists whose perspectives on life were completely different from mine.

I’d rather die than give up my dreams because of these men, but one day, as the relentless fatigue of waiting on the streets for customers began to accumulate…

 

“…Huh?”

 

When our eyes met, I found myself asking him without thinking.

It was my usual practice to approach anyone who looked interested in caricatures, but this time, a completely different reason made me feel I couldn’t let him leave.

He was a big Asian guy with a muscular build.

He was probably shorter than me – I’m about 178 centimeters tall – but his sheer bulk and the impression of strength he gave off were on a completely different scale.

He had black hair, almost buzzed short, and wore clothes that were plain or even crude. It was clear he was a backpacker, and since many like him visited Tallinn Old Town, there was nothing particularly noteworthy about him at first glance.

 

(What… beautiful eyes he has.)

 

Yet I found myself utterly captivated by this boy.

His black eyes. Small and animal-like, innocent and pure, they were more genuine than any eyes I’d ever met in my life.

This person would probably never think of me as anything more than a one-night stand.

He’d traveled the world with a pure heart, seeing every beautiful landscape through those innocent eyes.

He was probably around my age, but his eyes seemed as clear as a ten-year-old boy’s.

I had to draw this person.

It wasn’t strange for an aspiring artist to think this way.

His pure eyes contained something that drove creators like us forward.

 

“Relax.”

 

Without waiting for the boy’s response, I began moving my pencil across the sketchbook.

I was aware it was deliberate. Even if a bit forceful, I couldn’t let him leave.

At least not until I finished drawing a portrait that satisfied me.

 

(He doesn’t move at all.)

 

As I moved my pencil, the boy stiffened like a snake caught in a glare.

He probably thought he wasn’t allowed to move at all during a portrait.

It’s not like this is a hundred-year-old camera where that’s necessary, but I was struck once again by how Asians tend to be more serious than we Westerners.

 

(What pure eyes he has!)

 

Beauty isn’t determined by facial features or figure. I prefer to focus on inner qualities.

At least through the eyes of an artist like me, his essence appeared more pure and transparent than anything in this world.

Are all Asian boys like this?

No, I don’t think that’s true. Among the guys who’ve hit on me before, many were Asian too. I don’t believe someone’s inner nature is determined by their race.

It’s all about the individual.

This person’s transparency comes from nothing but their own essence.

 

“…It’s done.”

 

Before me lay his portrait, drawn exactly as I’d seen him.

It captured his very essence, precisely as I’d witnessed.

Without a doubt, it was the best portrait I’d ever drawn in my life.

The sketchbook’s masterpiece danced before me, so perfect that I wondered if I could become a professional artist by drawing only this person for a lifetime.

However,

 

“You don’t like it…?”

 

Contrary to my expectations, the subject of the portrait wore a crestfallen expression.

He’s trying to be polite and not show it, but his face clearly says, “I don’t like this.”

Why?

I’ve drawn him so perfectly!

 

“Let me draw you again!”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, I started drawing the next portrait. If he didn’t like it, then I’d keep drawing it over and over again until I got one that he liked.

Over and over again.

Over and over again.

Over and over again.

No matter how many times…

 

“O-Okay… It’s exactly me…”

 

After drawing multiple portraits, his begrudging acceptance only makes me bristle.

I’m creating such a perfect likeness! I’m capturing your true beauty as it is—so why won’t you wholeheartedly approve?

 

“Not yet. It’s not finished.”

 

Before I knew it, I’d led him by the hand back to my home.

Looking back now, I realize I’ve taken him home.

I’d brought a boy into my room, but with my head buzzing with excitement, I didn’t give it a single thought.

 

“Let’s begin.”

 

As proof, I ignored that reality completely and started drawing his portrait again.

The sun never sets and it never gets dark here, and if I get hungry, I can just cook in the kitchen.

Without a care for his inconvenience, I continued drawing his portrait.

Then…

 

“What do you think?”

 

I slammed my masterpiece before him.

This drawing had higher quality than any of my previous works, capturing his beauty in the most perfect way possible.

After drawing him so many times, I was confident I was the world’s best portrait artist when it came to him.

We’d only just met—more precisely, we didn’t even know each other’s names—but this was the first time I’d drawn someone’s portrait this extensively.

However,

 

(Is this no good either?)

 

His expression remained unchanged. There was no sign of genuine acceptance from his heart.

Still, I refused to give up. Not until I could draw a perfect portrait that would satisfy him completely.

 

“I’m not beautiful.”

 

I’m not beautiful. He said in broken English. Then, without pause, he continued spewing self-denying words:

 

“I’m not pure. I’m not precious. This picture is absolutely incorrect.”

 

I’m not pure. I’m not precious. This drawing is absolutely wrong.

He vomited out these self-denying words as if trying to prove a point.

A person this beautiful was claiming to be ugly.

Was this the typical Asian modesty?

No, that’s not it.

This person simply doesn’t recognize their worth.

That’s why he couldn’t accept my drawings of him as they were.

Since he himself couldn’t see his true self clearly, there was no way he could accept my art.

 

“You’re beautiful, pure, and sacred. My drawings are absolutely correct.”

 

So I denied his words.

Even if it stemmed from an artist’s ego, I couldn’t help but refute him.

Don’t you agree?

The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life had just been rejected by its very subject.

 

“You’re lovely.”

 

Charming.

No, someone worthy of being loved.

That’s what I meant when I said it.

I wanted him to understand that the person before him was more beautiful than anything else.

 

“And cute.”

 

I found this boy, who went to such lengths to belittle himself, genuinely adorable.

It was like having a younger brother with a significant age gap.

If I’d had such a brother, I would have done everything in my power as his elder sister to build his confidence.

Someone I wanted to do that with.

Even though he’s not even family.

Even though I had only met him today.

At that point, all I could think about was him.

 

“Have confidence. You’re truly wonderful.”

 

As I stroked the confused boy’s hair, I realized my face was burning hot.

I couldn’t resist any more.

What I wanted to do with him. That was—

 

“Mm…”

 

A kiss full of tenderness and affection.

That’s all.

I placed my lips on the boy’s and closed my eyes.

I could feel his heat through his thick lips.

It might seem indecent for an Estonian woman to suddenly kiss him, but I’m an oddball who wants to be a painter, so I don’t even care.

 

“Oh—”

 

But when I slowly opened my eyes and saw his crotch swollen beyond expectation, even I turned bright red.

Ah, I’ve brought a boy into my room. The realization hits me now.

This has never happened in my life before.

If my mother found out, she might scold me for not living up to being an Estonian girl.

But…

 

(It’s gotten so… big)

 

Staring at his bulging crotch, I slowly begin lowering his trousers.

As a woman, this feels obscene.

Yet despite the thought, his pants appear painfully tight. I can’t help but want to free him quickly.

However…

 

(What is this…?)

 

Seeing his exposed p3nis, I begin regretting my actions.

 

“I can’t believe this.”

 

His exposed p3nis was unbelievably big.

This thick, erect shaft dwarfs anything I’ve seen from previous boyfriends in both girth and length.

Is this what was hidden in his pants all along? His p3nis was so aggressively asserting its presence that it seemed to demand recognition.

Are all Asian boys like this?

If so, I’m glad I turned down those Asian travelers’ advances. If they were all this impressive, I might have been ruined long ago.

Still, at this point, I couldn’t possibly say, “It’s too big and scary, let’s stop.”

That would be the height of rudeness, and I know better than to assume a boy who’s gotten this far can’t handle himself.

But the stark contrast between his innocent appearance and his formidable lower body left my heart pounding.

He’d seemed so cute and pure, but down there, he was more formidable than any man I’d ever known. If I let myself be connected to someone like this, I might be ruined.

 

“Tell me your name…”

 

I ask him, careful not to betray my turmoil.

My fingers brush against his heated p3nis as if it’s nothing, then begin to slowly stroke its unnaturally rigid length.

It’s different.

Everything about this p3nis is different from any I’ve touched before.

So thick and hard—there’s definitely something special about Asian men.

 

“Daisuke…”

 

Daisuke.

The unfamiliar sound of his name warms something deep inside me. This boy with the sturdy p3nis is called Daisuke.

I carve the name into my heart alongside the searing heat, unyielding hardness, and raw masculinity coursing through my palm.

 

“Ena.”

 

So you should know too.

The name of the woman strocking your formidable p3nis is Ena.

The name of the woman who has been attracted to your pure heart and the strength of your lower body is Ena Claus.

I wish you would keep that somewhere in your mind, even if just in the corner.

 

“B-blow job…”

 

Daisuke said in his clumsy English, asking me to take it in my mouth.

I’m sure countless women would want to put this p3nis in their mouth when they see it.

And I’m one of them. I want to taste this sturdy p3nis directly with my tongue. That feeling is definitely inside me too.

 

“It’s too big for me…”

 

I refused his request, perhaps using embarrassment as an excuse.

No, it wasn’t just an excuse. I was certain that if I took it in my mouth, I wouldn’t be myself anymore.

I couldn’t let him see the vulgar side of me that even I didn’t know existed.

 

“Ena…”

 

“Daisuke…”

 

Even though I refused the blowjob, my attraction to his impressive p3nis remained unchanged.

When he called my name, I felt warmth in the depths of my chest, and I knew my cheeks were turning red.

I looked up into Daisuke’s round eyes and continued to rub his strong p3nis desperately.

 

“Nngh…”

 

Daisuke kneaded my thoroughly aroused br3asts through my bra.

Though his touch was neither rough nor forceful, his mere contact with my chest drove me into a frenzy of arousal.

 

(Daisuke…)

 

In the next instant, my bra was removed as if it were the most natural thing in the world, leaving my br3asts exposed before him.

He accomplished this without any resistance from me, as if such exposure were perfectly ordinary.

He must have been a seasoned veteran of s3x, possessing perfect knowledge of how to open a woman’s heart – neither too much nor too little.

At twenty-two, having only slept with four men in my life, my experience and technique paled in comparison to his.

 

“Ahh…”

 

Without pause, his fingers began creeping between my thighs. The act felt so natural that I couldn’t even consider resisting.

Before I knew it, my panties were removed, and Daisuke was observing the most embarrassing part of my body.

 

“No… Don’t…”

 

Daisuke’s tongue stretched toward my secret place. The tip slithered along the crevice, and as expected, when it found my cl!toris, my body jerked slightly.

 

“Ah! Daisuke!”

 

He continued rhythmically licking my slit and cl!toris.

His tongue movements were refined.

This cunnilingus was completely different from what my previous boyfriends had done – precise strokes layered upon precise strokes. I shamelessly moaned.

 

“No, put on a condom…”

 

Daisuke pressed his sturdy p3nis against my entrance. My crotch was thoroughly soaked, my body craving him, but truthfully, I was scared.

Without a condom, there was a risk of pregnancy.

I knew that, and I had forced all my previous boyfriends to wear condoms, but that’s probably not what I wanted to say.

Prepare yourself to accept me.

Those were probably the words he meant.

Whether he wore a rubber or not didn’t matter.

I just wanted to wait a moment to prepare myself.

To take his sturdy p3nis inside me.

In other words, to experience an unknown world.

It reminded me of that summer when I had my first s3x as a high school student. No, the sensation was even more profound. Accepting this sturdy thing into me was far more terrifying than knowing a boy for the first time.

 

“I want to feel you directly.”

 

Yet Daisuke, with his innocent expression intact, pressed his request upon me.

When those eyes met mine,

When that sturdy p3nis brushed against my entrance,

How could I possibly resist?

 

“Just tonight…”

 

With all my strength, I maintained the dignity of an adult woman.

But my heart had already reached its limit. I’d opened myself to him with that kiss moments ago, and now, when he whispers directly to me, “I want you to feel it,” there’s no reason to refuse.

I want to feel it.

Every part of me.

Against Daisuke’s p3nis.

 

“Aahh!!”

 

When Daisuke’s member forced its way inside me, splitting me apart, I let out a high-pitched cry that even I couldn’t believe came from my throat.

It wasn’t painful.

But the overwhelming pressure was unbelievable.

The girth and hardness were incomparable to any of my previous lovers.

His sturdy glans forced open my inner walls, invading deeper than I ever thought possible.

 

“I love you, Ena.”

 

The whisper from this exceptional man made my entire body burn with heat.

With Daisuke’s p3nis still connected inside me, my face burns so hot I can’t bear to look at him.

 

“You are… beautiful…”

 

Daisuke’s beauty.

It includes his sturdy p3nis.

His sturdy shape is stretching my folds apart.

Both his heart and his p3nis—what a beautiful person he is, I think. I know he probably get angry if I say this, but I want to draw a detailed sketch of Daisuke’s full-body image with his p3nis exposed.

That’s how valuable Daisuke’s p3nis is.

No matter what anyone says, such a beautiful p3nis is art.

 

“Ena…”

 

Every time Daisuke thrusts his p3nis in and out, my body shudders.

What kind of manliness is this? What kind of pleasure?

Every time his unbelievably hard erection scrapes against my deepest depths, it feels like I’m being dragged into a new world—a world where all my previous sexual experiences with lovers might as well have been lies.

Is this what s3x is supposed to feel like?

Is this what a real p3nis feels like?

If just these slight hip movements feel so good, what will happen to me when he starts going all out?

 

“Daisuke…”

 

For him, this might be just a warm-up, but for me, it’s a tsunami of unprecedented pleasure.

Through Daisuke’s tender, loving s3x, I’m about to reach an orgasm unlike any other I’ve ever experienced.

 

(Ah, I’m cumming—)

 

I press my lips together to muffle my moans as I climax with Daisuke’s p3nis.

The waves of pleasure spreading through my body were so intense that, even though I’d never done it before, it felt almost like taking illegal drugs.

It was as if relentless waves of ecstasy were engulfing my entire body, sweeping me away.

This was my first time having s3x with Daisuke.

For the first time in my life, I realized during s3x that this person was the only one who could ever satisfy me.

It was also the first time that I felt that the man I was having s3x with was holding back.

He still wasn’t being serious at all.

 

“You can be more serious if you want,”

 

After some sweet pillow talk on the sofa, I encouraged Daisuke.

I had enjoyed more than enough pleasure from s3x just now. But if Daisuke himself wasn’t feeling good at all, I thought it was only fair that he do as he pleased.

Still, Daisuke seemed reluctant to take me up on the offer.

Despite his wild lower body, his inner self remained as gentle as a small animal.

That’s precisely why I’m so bewildered by the contrast between his everyday cuteness and the wildness below his waist.

 

“I like it rough.”

 

It’s not a lie. No woman prefers tentative s3x over full-throttle passion.

To be honest, Daisuke’s intensity frightens me, but the desire to make him feel good outweighs that fear.

I don’t know if my body holds such value, but failing to grant Daisuke even one orgasm would render my existence as a woman utterly meaningless.

 

“Have confidence.”

 

As I offer my entire being, I manage a smile that’s all I can muster.

If someone with this much… vigor can’t trust himself, then frankly, most men in this world are overconfident.

The word “vigor” here refers to Daisuke’s p3nis, and yet he lacks confidence? That’s downright excessive.

So I said,

 

“I love you, Daisuke. Take me.”

 

Without any falsehood, I told Daisuke these words of love.

The moment I spoke, my entire body burned with heat. Embarrassing as it was, I could feel my pvssy getting excited.

I want this man’s c0ck.

That is, without a doubt, my true feelings.

 

“Ahh!”

 

Daisuke’s sturdy p3nis entered me far deeper than before, reaching levels beyond comparison.

It wasn’t just the pressure against my cervix—this sensation forced its way even further inside. Though physically impossible for a p3nis to directly enter the uterus, the unreal feeling of being completely penetrated by his shaft left me questioning: Is this still the same man?

 

“Ena! Ena!”

 

“Ahh! I can’t believe this!”

 

The initial pain was fleeting. The relentless flow of transparent fluid combined with my vaginal walls’ contracting movements eased the overwhelming pressure from his overbearing presence.

What awaited me was pleasure far beyond imagination.

Daisuke’s shaft scraped against my vaginal walls, his robust glans effortlessly crushing my cervix. The arched rod rubbed against the ceiling of my passage, stimulating nearly incontinent levels of love fluids.

 

“What is this?! Is this kind of s3x even possible?!”

 

The ultimate pleasure.

That’s the only way to describe it.

By now, I’m reduced to offering my hole to Daisuke’s p3nis.

Completely defenseless, utterly passive, I surrender to his rough thrusts without reservation.

 

“Ahh! Daisuke! You’re incredible! I never knew s3x could be like this!”

 

We continue fucking in the cowgirl position. Though women are supposed to be on top, Daisuke maintains absolute control. I can only moan helplessly with each powerful thrust, arching my back and screaming obscenities.

 

“Ah! That’s incredible! ♡ Not just your inner self, but your s3x is amazing too! ♡”

 

I’m so overwhelmed that even I can’t believe it. I can feel an unknown part of myself being released.

To put it simply, this is the instinct every woman possesses.

The primal desire to be fucked to death by a strong male – an instinct Daisuke has unlocked in me.

I’m sure every woman he’s taken before has experienced this too.

Whether you have a crush, a boyfriend, or a husband, once his p3nis enters you, a woman can only let that instinct bloom.

Because that’s the greatest happiness we women can know.

 

“Ahh! ♡ So big! ♡”

 

I know comparing p3nis sizes is rude.

But it’s completely different.

Everything about this p3nis is different from any lover I’ve been with before.

So when I scream about the pure difference, I feel no guilt whatsoever.

I can’t imagine any woman in this world wouldn’t feel utterly happy being fucked by this man.

 

“Aah! Daisuke! I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming from Daisuke’s c0ck!”

 

I’ve never screamed about cumming during s3x with anyone else before.

I thought it was obscene, and I seriously believed that kind of thing only existed in porn videos.

But I was wrong.

When it feels that good, you really do cry out “I’m cumming!”

It’s just that I didn’t know before.

I just didn’t know what real s3x with a real p3nis felt like.

All over the world, women are still screaming their climaxes somewhere, right now.

Being fucked by their most beloved person’s most beloved c0ck.

For me, that’s Daisuke.

Daisuke’s p3nis and Daisuke himself—I can’t live without either of them now.

Convinced of this, I climax atop Daisuke.

 

“Ahh! Daisuke, cum inside me!”

 

I want both of us to climax simultaneously.

I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help but wish for it.

Because it would feel unbelievable if he cums inside me at the same time as I climax after this..

I seal Daisuke’s lips with mine as I thrust my hips.

I won’t let him hold back inside me anymore.

I’ve never been fucked raw before, but with Daisuke, anything less would be unthinkable.

 

“Ahhh♡ I’m cumming—!”

 

The overwhelming pleasure nearly makes me pass out. I cling to Daisuke’s body as his semen floods into me a few seconds later, washing away all coherent thought with pure ecstasy.

Daisuke’s c0ck has found my cervix, and he’s pouring his seed into me with relentless precision.

Incredibly, I was reaching climax with every ejaculation.

Each time his vigorous release struck deep into my womb, I felt overwhelming gratitude for being born a woman. I devoured the pleasure of female-only climaxes—more intense and frequent than ever before.

 

“Ah…”

 

How long had this lasted?

When Daisuke finally withdrew his sturdy p3nis, I sensed more than a minute had passed.

Such a prolonged climax.

An astonishing amount of semen is inside me.

Even after he pulled out, I didn’t let go of Daisuke.

I clung to his muscular body with desperate strength, pressing my br3asts, n1pples—everything—to my precious man.

The word “marking” must be what Daisuke would use, having deposited so many seeds within me.

But I simply absorbed his body heat, imprinting my scent on him.

I knew all too well that among the countless women in his life, I was just another one.

So that I could at least be his girl for this moment, I didn’t leave Daisuke’s side for even a second.

 

“Call me when you get back.”

 

The next morning, as we parted ways, I made a desperate plea to Daisuke.

When his journey ended and he returned to Japan, his homeland, he should call me first thing.

I knew it was an impossible wish, but I couldn’t help saying it anyway.

Because by then, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with Daisuke.

 

“Huh?”

 

When Daisuke spoke in Japanese, I could only manage a blank, confused expression.

Judging by his tone, he probably said something like “I can’t come back here anymore” or “I’ve found someone else I love.”

He must have used Japanese to spare my feelings, but I chose not to hear his words.

After all, giving up wasn’t an option anymore.

Even if he didn’t call, I was prepared to track down his Japanese address and show up at his doorstep.

Estonian women want to settle down.

I realized that gene flows through me too.

Because I want to be with Daisuke.

Even if I abandon my dream of becoming an artist, I don’t want to give up on Daisuke.

 

“Wait for me, Daisuke.”

 

As I watched his departing back, I considered what I needed for my journey.

Did I leave my passport at home?

Do I still have savings?

How much is a one-way ticket to Japan?

How long can I stay in Japan without a visa?

With his back already gone, I steeled myself.

I won’t bring my art supplies.

Because I…

 

“Well, even if you don’t wait, I’ll come looking for you anyway.”

 

Because I’ve fallen head over heels in love with Daisuke Sakagami.