Sex is the Best Way to Learn About Other Cultures. - Chapter 3

There probably aren’t many people in Japan who would know what country Tallinn Airport is in.

It’s the northernmost of the so-called Baltic states, facing the Finnish Gulf, and a republic about half the size of Hokkaido.

Even after hearing this explanation, I bet fewer Japanese people would recognize it.

To be honest, I didn’t know the exact location of this country until I saw a map at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

The Estonian Republic.

With a population of 1.32 million, this is my third country in Europe. The seventh foreign country I’ve visited on this trip.

If you look at a world map, you’ll see it’s practically part of Russia. You could call it Eastern Europe without any issues.

A place where you can cross the sea to reach Finland in the north and step across the border to be in Russia, I landed here with a different kind of excitement than I felt in Britain.

The international phone call with Takuma “and others” in Paris.

To be honest, I should probably return to Japan immediately.

I should hurry back to Japan as soon as possible to take responsibility for the multiple white women I might have impregnated.

But I’ve shaken off that sense of duty and come here instead.

I do feel guilty.

Honestly, I can’t calm down.

But before starting this journey, there were two countries I absolutely had to visit.

This is one of them: Estonia.

There’s only one reason:

This country is said to have the most beautiful women in the world.

If Takuma asked me why, he would probably punch me.

The women I might have impregnated would probably stab me, and they’d be right to.

But I wanted to see the sights of the country with the most beautiful women in the world, even if just once in my life.

s3x with an Estonian woman.

I shouldn’t think such presumptuous thoughts.

It’s enough to simply feast my eyes.

When I consider this world holds such breathtaking beauty, what does it matter if a hundred Japanese women rejected me? I use this knowledge to bolster my courage.

(Well… to be fair, the girls I’ve met before were quite stunning too.)

Looking back, every woman I’ve slept with could be described as absolutely gorgeous.

Especially that prostitute in Los Angeles I lost my virginity to—she was so beautiful she could’ve been mistaken for a Hollywood actress.

Beyond that, there were Liz, Amanda, Alicia, Carol, and countless others who I never would’ve imagined myself bedding before this trip.

Some of these encounters came from a culture of free s3x.

Others involved money changing hands.

But this trip taught me that if I take one step outside of Japan, I too can have s3x with so many beautiful women.

After that, I’ll burn the image of beautiful women walking the streets of Estonia into my memory, travel to Vladivostok via the Trans-Siberian Railway, and return to Japan.

In a way, this is my temporary reprieve.

Estonia and Russia.

I’ll savor these two countries for a few days before bidding farewell to this journey.

Then comes the reality—pregnancy responsibility, child support, and various other practical problems standing in my path.

I don’t know if I can overcome this wall, but I must face the consequences of what I’ve done.

Perhaps a life awaits where I drop out of university, immediately find a job, and spend most of my salary on child support.

But I’m prepared for that.

It’s precisely because I’m ready that I created this temporary reprieve in Estonia and Russia.

I know it’s unfair to Takuma and Liz, but these two countries are my journey to draw a line in the sand for my life.

 

“This street scene looks like it’s straight out of a movie…”

 

From the airport, a tram—a type of streetcar—departed. The modern-looking train was striped in red and white, but the world outside the windows looked like a film set.

White walls and red roofs. The patchwork streetscape, reminiscent of medieval Europe, stretched endlessly.

While modern buildings lined the tracks in some areas, the old city district overflowed with foreign charm.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate the scenery during this trip.

When I reflected on my journey, images of naked white women kept intruding, causing the local cuisines and landscapes I’d experienced to fade into the background.

For some inexplicable reason, I’d ended up having s3x with women in every country I visited. But originally, this journey was supposed to be about escaping worldly distractions and experiencing the vastness of the world.

While part of my purpose was to see the beauty, this time I was finally able to have a proper journey, and I felt mentally fulfilled.

Along the way, I’d had a gun pointed at me twice, jumped into a muddy river from a boat, and gotten harassed by shady foreigners in alleys. Surely that couldn’t be all there was to travel.

From the start, my excessive sexual desires had brought about this situation.

In this country, I don’t think women would ever invite me out, but I renewed my vow: I absolutely wouldn’t have s3x in Estonia or Russia.

 

“Let’s start with some street-watching.”

 

In all my previous travels, I’d felt like I’d immediately encountered trouble as soon as I landed at airports or train stations.

First came the honey trap incident with Sara, then meeting Alicia on horseback, followed by Diana’s kidnapping scheme.

Before I could even enjoy the foreign charm of the streets, I kept colliding head-on with extraordinary events, somehow ending up sleeping with multiple white women for reasons I couldn’t understand.

Fortunately, my journey from the airport to the old city in Estonia went smoothly without any major issues.

Though I barely understood the official languages—Estonian and Russian—most people spoke English. Thankfully, no problems arose with the women who were crucial to my trip.

Compared to women in other European countries I’d visited, who tended to be more voluptuous and, frankly, exuded strong feminine pheromones, Estonian women were leaner and often had model-like figures.

As a country known for producing top models, Estonia’s women stood out for their height and slim physiques, setting them apart from their European counterparts.

This made them seem somewhat untouchable—not that they were aloof or unapproachable, but their ethereal beauty left me feeling intimidated.

There are many beautiful people here, and plenty with good figures, but they’re not the type you’d casually fantasize about.

In a way, this country maintains just the right distance for me right now.

 

“There are so many churches around.”

 

Unlike the calm atmosphere of Pari, Tallinn’s old town is full of cobblestone streets and steep hills, lined with buildings that seem to carry the weight of history.

But it’s not as chaotic as Tokyo’s downtown, and overall it’s very elegant. The city itself is a World Heritage Site, and with churches, monasteries, and cathedrals everywhere, the whole city has a rather solemn air.

Summer’s lingering scent still clings to the air – in the light clothing of passersby and the deep blue skies, autumn remains a distant prospect.

The World Heritage status brings droves of tourists to the city.

In a corner of a certain square, there was a person doing business targeting such tourists.

An artist.

A type I’ve encountered throughout Europe.

An aspiring artist had lined up his watercolor paintings on the street, calling out to passersby.

In Japan too, street vendors selling accessories and such exist, but it’s hardly a lucrative trade. Most people either ignore them completely or give a cursory glance, their attention focused on the World Heritage-listed cityscape they’re breathing reverent sighs over.

Given the location, most artists were peddling scenes of Tallinn’s Old Town.

But among them stood one unique soul, selling paintings of unexpected subjects.

My hesitation to ask “How much?” probably stemmed from being a foreigner in this culture, not just my own reticence.

While bold Euro-American tourists might casually approach, for someone as shy as me, even meeting that person’s eyes felt daunting.

 

“How’s it going?”

 

In the end, they approached me first in English.

What they sold wasn’t landscapes, but portraits.

This was the type of business where the artist would draw a portrait of the customer right on the spot and charge a fee that included service.

I’d come all the way to Estonia, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a drawing, as long as it wasn’t too exorbitant.

I have no confidence in my appearance, but I still felt there might be value in having a life-size portrait of myself.

However, I couldn’t form the single English word “please.”

The reason was the artist before me—she was unbelievably beautiful.

 

“U-um…”

 

I’d already explained that in this country, women tend to be tall, slender, and often have model-like figures.

She, to,o had long, slender legs. Though she was currently seated on a mat spread on the street, it was easy to tell she’d be taller than me if she stood up.

Her cool short hair was blond, but not the obvious bright shade. Rather, it leaned more toward a chestnut tone.

She had cute features, but what surprised me more than anything was how small her face was. They say that a woman has an eight-head body, but compared to me, who has a larger face even for a Japanese person, it was a world of difference. Actually, it would be presumptuous to even compare us.

She’s so slender, so graceful, so luminous, so sacred… I could apply every word of praise and admiration to her without exaggeration. Yet this woman who embodies all those qualities is probably around my age.

All the white women I’d met before were beautiful too. Not just pretty, but with ample br3asts that made my lustful desires bubble up just looking at them.

But she—her very presence—doesn’t stir those feelings in me at all.

It’s like how you shouldn’t entertain impure thoughts about a priestess. My instincts cry out that this girl mustn’t be defiled.

Even speaking to her feels disproportionate.

The right answer would be to turn back immediately, but her limpid eyes capture me and won’t let go.

There’s a saying about snakes glaring, but this is its exact opposite.

Her eyes were so beautiful that I couldn’t move a single step from where I stood.

 

“Relax.”

 

While we stood there, she began sketching on drawing paper with a pencil. I’d meant to refuse, but I missed my chance and ended up becoming her subject.

She told me to relax, but I felt awkward.

Art is supposed to be about beauty, yet she – the artist – was the most beautiful one here. Meanwhile, I – the subject – was clumsy, ordinary, and plain.

People passing by eyed our mismatched pair with suspicion.

Well, with such a striking visual contrast, we were bound to stand out. Estonia doesn’t seem particularly discriminatory against Asians, but the combination of white and Asian is still rare on a global scale.

The atmosphere was rather unpleasant.

But just seeing her focused expression as she concentrated on drawing my portrait made me feel that coming to Estonia was worth it.

The various caricatures lined up as samples also captured each person’s unique features and charm, making them come alive on paper.

I don’t know much about artistic techniques, but it was clear she possessed a special talent for drawing people.

 

“It’s complete.”

 

And so, the finished caricature of me…

 

“This…”

 

It doesn’t look like me.

That was my immediate reaction.

The drawing was remarkably realistic, capturing my features with striking accuracy. It felt more like looking at a photo that had been illustrated rather than a traditional portrait.

If I were to ask passersby whether this drawing resembled me, nine out of ten would probably say it did.

But for myself—

The person who knows me best in this world—myself—stands firm in declaring this image wrong.

I can’t speak to the external likeness.

But the inner self depicted here bears no resemblance to the real me.

I am a beast who went on a trip under the pretext of getting over a broken heart, but who slept with women wherever I went, and maybe even got some of them pregnant.

Ugly beyond measure,

A worthless existence not even worthy of being drawn.

Yet her portrayal of me exudes pure innocence and clarity.

Though the physical appearance may lack refinement, anyone seeing this drawing would undoubtedly perceive a beautiful soul.

No, this isn’t me!

I caught myself just before blurting out the words.

There was no way this woman—who I’d only met twenty or thirty minutes earlier—could possibly understand my inner self. This was her business after all, to please customers. Even if she embellished reality in her drawing, it wasn’t something to criticize.

But the finished portrait felt so disconnected from my current emotions that I couldn’t wholeheartedly praise it.

Of course, I was the one who had taken up her precious time. I’d pay whatever price she demanded, but I couldn’t bring myself to take this painting back to Japan.

 

“Don’t you like it?”

 

Perhaps my feelings had been conveyed to her, as she looked worried. For an artist, having one’s painting rejected is the same as having oneself rejected. No matter how rude it was, I couldn’t just accept a painting of myself that was so much more beautiful than I actually was.

 

“One more chance?”

 

In panic, she began drawing me again. But no matter how many times she tried, the figure in her sketches remained utterly unlike me.

Having entered a phase bordering on obsession, she continued sketching my portrait even after the last tourists had departed. She drew sheet after sheet, creating caricatures so unrecognizable that I couldn’t even see myself in them. Before I knew it, night had fallen.

 

“O-okay, okay. It’s… It’s exquisite.”

 

Having reached my limit, I resorted to empty flattery to escape the situation. This was precisely the kind of thing I’d say. I didn’t know if my grammar was correct, but I figured it would convey the right impression. But then…

 

“No. It’s not over yet.”

 

She immediately recognized my insincere response. Gathering her art supplies into her backpack, she grabbed my hand and set off walking.

She was saying things in English like “dark” and other stuff, so apparently she meant we should move somewhere else because it’s getting dark here.

I wanted to say no to that, but she didn’t seem to be letting go of my arm.

For the first time, I realized how different artists are from normal people.

When it came to drawing, she showed an obsessive devotion that defied common sense. She was the kind of person you could call an “unrivaled drawing maniac.”

By the time I regretted it, it was too late. Before I knew it, we’d moved into a residential area, and she’d dragged me into what seemed to be her apartment.

I never thought I’d be taken home.

And as the one being taken home, no less.

Though the unexpected situation made me nervous, there was absolutely no way she’d strip off her clothes and take revenge through s3x here.

 

“Let’s continue.”

 

She spread out her art supplies on the floor again, looked at me, and started drawing a portrait.

Although it was called a beautiful woman’s room, an artist’s room was truly an artist’s room. Apart from a simple sofa and bed, it was an atelier filled with art supplies and cabinets, and the smell of paint filled the air.

This was the very essence of an artist’s sanctuary.

To think I’d encounter such circumstances after coming to Estonia.

 

“How is it?”

 

The first painting she completed in the room bore no resemblance to me whatsoever. Before she could sigh, I decided to voice my honest thoughts as she moved to start her next piece.

 

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

 

I’m not nearly this beautiful. Not pure, not precious. This painting is completely wrong.

That was my blunt assessment.

Nothing in this world could be uglier than me, and this painting didn’t suit me at all.

Whether I had artistic talent or not, on that point I could speak with absolute certainty.

Yet…

 

“You are beautiful. You are pure. You are precious. My picture is absolutely correct.”

 

She returned my exact words, but in the negative form.

Was this the confidence of an artist? She didn’t doubt for a moment that her painting was absolutely correct.

I wanted to retort that it was just plain deception, but I couldn’t think of the English words to express it.

 

“You are lovely.”

 

She gazed at me with earnest eyes.

Just like in England, “lovely” doesn’t simply mean cute or charming. It apparently carries the meaning of being worthy of love.

I couldn’t possibly believe myself to be something worthy of being called lovely.

But when the most lovely woman in this world tells me point-blank that I’m lovely, I find myself completely lost.

 

“And cute.”

 

The angelic smile she suddenly bestows on me makes me realize I’m being treated like a child.

We’re about the same age, but since she’s taller, it feels like I’m being teased by an older neighborhood girl.

 

“Be confident. You’re very wonderful.”

 

Even though she tells me to be confident, I don’t have a single element to build that confidence on.

In all my life, I’ve never once thought of myself as wonderful.

Perhaps sensing my lack of confidence, she strokes my hair gently, as if encouraging a small neighborhood child.

Her behavior was completely different from all the women I’d known before, leaving me utterly flustered.

I was completely at a loss. Who would’ve thought I’d get an older sister in Estonia of all places?

Just as I was thinking this, something unexpected happened.

 

“Huh—”

 

Be confident.

The moment she said those words, her fresh, dewy lips were pressed against mine.

It took me more than ten seconds to realize what it was.

Why? Why would she kiss me?

 

“Oh…”

 

As I stood bewildered, she was the one to blush and look away this time.

My crotch was bulging through my pants, completely aroused after being kissed by such a stunning beauty.

I thought I’d be flattened. But instead, she gently pulled down my trousers, exposing my already hardened erection.

 

“Ei voi olla totta.” (No way.)

 

The words spoken in surprise were probably the first Estonian words uttered today.

I don’t understand it at all, but through this journey, I’ve come to know that words mean nothing in this situation.

 

“Please tell me your name.”

 

As she strokes my p3nis with her smooth hands, she asks for my name. Though bewildered, I answer “Daisuke.” In response, she says, “I’m Ena.”

An Estonian beauty giving me a handjob.

In a way, this is exactly what I wanted, but strangely, I don’t feel particularly happy about being jerked off by an Estonian beauty.

Rather, the fact that Ena acknowledges me as a man brings me immense joy.

Until now, my encounters with women have been mostly accidental, but something feels different about being with Ena.

I didn’t know what it was, but I felt something else being born inside me alongside my sexual desire.

 

“B-blowjob…”

 

I wanted her to take it in her mouth, but Ena shook her head and refused.

 

“It’s too big for me.”

 

She kept stroking me vigorously with her palm, but refused to put it in her mouth.

Until now, s3x and fellatio had always been a package deal, but apparently not for Ena.

In a way, this was platonic s3x.

Considering this journey had started with Sara’s fellatio, this was an utterly novel experience for me.

 

“Ena—”

 

“Daisuke…”

 

As I tried to make it as gentle as possible, I placed my hands on her small br3asts.

Small—though probably still D-cup or so, I began kneading Ena’s br3asts.

Not roughly like before, but gently, caressing.

When I kneaded her resilient br3asts, her body shuddered. After carefully removing her bra, her br3asts appeared – both adorable and beautiful.

I don’t think she’s small-chested.

In fact, it’s just that Amanda and Stacy were too big.

Her br3asts are the perfect size and shape, reminiscent of the marble statues I saw in art class.

 

“Oh…”

 

When I reached toward her crotch, Ena immediately flushed with embarrassment.

Unlike the other women who had been so eager for s3x, Ena was deeply ashamed of my actions. Through her underwear, I could feel her dampness – when I finally stripped away the last fabric, her smooth, hairless pvssy was revealed.

 

“No…”

 

As Ena protested in shame, I persisted with my cunnilingus. When I licked along her slit to her delicate cl!toris, her slender body jerked. Soon, her resistance melted away.

 

“Ah! Daisuke!”

 

I carefully and gently licked Ena’s pvssy.

Despite her embarrassed demeanor, clear love juices kept flowing from her depths, making it obvious she was feeling pleasure.

My arousal intensified as well.

When I positioned my c0ck at her entrance to enter…

 

“No. Please use a condom.”

 

The request came bluntly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

It made sense, of course. Even with a condom, there’s still a pregnancy risk, but unprotected s3x is strictly forbidden. Having been free to fvck her raw all this time, Ena’s words caught me off guard.

But then…

 

“I want to feel you directly.”

 

I wanted to feel her without any barriers.

The words that I’d normally only say while looking in a mirror slipped out naturally.

I expected her to refuse, but when I continued gazing into Ena’s eyes with earnest intensity,

 

“Just for tonight.”

 

Ena, her face flushed crimson, gave me an unexpected “yes.”

s3x with the Estonian beauty I’d longed for.

No, this was s3x with Ena.

With a pure woman who dreamed of becoming an artist, and no one else.

 

“AAHHH!”

 

I slowly penetrated Ena’s secret place. I knew it sounded crude, but this pvssy felt tighter than any other woman I’d been with.

Not as tight as virgins like Carol or Sylvia, but still quite inexperienced.

Though my p3nis wasn’t exactly experienced either.

 

“I love you, Ena.”

 

The words slipped out as I felt the Estonian beauty’s tightness. Had I ever whispered such words during s3x before?

I’ve uttered these words before, but more often than not, it’s women who keep repeating them, so I’ve ended up saying them in return far more frequently.

 

“You are… beautiful…”

 

Instead of returning words of love, Ena murmurs to me once again, “You’re beautiful.”

When enveloped by her pvssy, strangely, the sense of comfort surpasses mere physical pleasure.

It’s as if through s3x, she’s acknowledging my very existence.

I never consider myself beautiful, but when Ena says it, I can’t help thinking there might be some truth to it.

 

“Ena…”

 

Even the slightest movement of my hips leaves her breathless. Still, I can feel her growing pleasure.

If I started my usual vigorous thrusting here, I’d probably see Ena gasping as violently as all the other women before her.

Part of me wanted to witness that sight, while another part recoiled from the idea.

With these conflicting emotions clashing within me, I maintained slow, deliberate movements throughout our intimate encounter, committing to a tender rhythm with Ena.

 

“Daisuke…”

 

Ena never erupted into wild moans, and I never let my primal instincts take over.

In the end, her slender waist shuddered with climax, and I released myself onto her pale abdomen.

To claim this wasn’t unsatisfying would be a lie.

Yet that release felt more complete than any previous act of intimacy.

I couldn’t quite articulate why.

But in that moment, I felt as if I’d grasped something essential through our union with Ena.

 

◆　◆　◆

 

Later that night, we discussed our futures in English.

When we talked about our futures, we weren’t discussing getting together or marriage. We were each talking about our own individual futures.

Ena’s dream was to become an artist.

Judging by how she sells her paintings on the street, she’s still an amateur.

Most of her income comes from part-time jobs, and she doesn’t have any wealthy patrons.

Despite this, she keeps drawing in Tallinn, determined to become a professional artist.

My dream isn’t particularly ambitious.

For now, I just want to go back to Japan, graduate from university, and find a job.

I haven’t decided on a specific career yet, but I think a behind-the-scenes job would suit me best.

After talking about trivial things all night on the sofa, Ena found out and asked, “You were going easy on me during s3x just now, weren’t you?” I felt guilty, but I nodded, and Ena hugged me and whispered in my ear.

 

“Please go all out.”

 

You can be serious about it.

Those words made me tense up slightly.

True, I could have Ena engage in intense s3x like before.

That would feel better for me too, and I wouldn’t end up with unfulfilled desires.

But deep down, I didn’t want to see Ena truly lose control.

There’s pleasure in the gentle s3x we just had too. I don’t want to witness the normally prim and proper Ena exposing her raw instincts.

My previous mistake was letting my instincts and desires dictate our encounters.

I’d spend nights—sometimes three days straight—fucking white beauties without hesitation, always going deep inside them.

Those were blissful, dreamlike moments, but they led to this current situation.

I didn’t want to have such rough s3x with Ena.

I didn’t want her to see me with my primal instincts laid bare.

I didn’t want to cloud Ena’s blue eyes—those eyes that had called me beautiful—with disappointment for a savage male.

 

“I like it much harder.”

 

I like it rough.

I know those words are Ena’s kindness, showing consideration for me.

Even during our gentle earlier encounter, she seemed stretched thin. If we’d proceeded with our usual vigorous s3x, this girl might have been broken.

 

“Please be confident.”

 

Still, Ena smiles at me.

I had lost all confidence in myself, having never been popular in Japan, and she whispered to me to have confidence in myself.

“Your manhood is strong.”

“Use it to fill me completely.”

Like an older sister performing a ceremonial deflowering, Ena displays unexpected assertiveness.

I know it’s not her true nature. I know she’s forcing these words.

Still…

 

“I love you, Daisuke. Please give me yours.”

 

Her smile, both beautiful and bewitching, made me resolve myself.

If I impregnate Ena during this s3x, I’ll definitely come back for her.

No matter how untalented I am, no matter how unpopular, I’ll make her happy somehow.

With that vow in my heart,

 

“Ahh!!”

 

For the first time today, I thrust into Ena’s deepest depths.

As far as I know, this is the spot where girls feel pleasure most.

Ena’s brand-new pvssy clenches around my c0ck. It lacks the clinging, coiling lasciviousness of Stacy or Alicia, but the awkward squeeze and her limbs clinging to my back stir a sense of duty to protect this girl.

I have an obligation to repay the woman who accepted all of me with my best s3x.

 

“Ena! Ena!!”

 

“AHH!! Uskumatu!!” (AHH!! Incredible!!)

 

Rather than the usual position, I violated a tall white woman in what’s called the “breeding press” stance, and she let out moans more intense than ever before.

So she had been holding back her voice during our earlier s3x.

That had been gentle intercourse.

But this time, both of us were fully committed.

 

“Mis see on?! Mis sugu see on?!?” (What is this!? What s3x is it!?)

 

Ena’s beautiful short hair flew wildly as she thrashed about.

Even such a refined beauty shows this sultry expression during s3x, I thought, driving my hips into her body.

It felt amazing.

Real s3x with a white woman was truly satisfying.

The earlier gentle intercourse had been blissful too, but this kind of s3x brought even greater happiness.

Connecting our most sensitive parts and colliding our entire beings in this intercourse required no words – it was the ultimate intercultural communication.

 

“Ah! Daisuke! Sa oled hull! Ma ei tea! Ma ei tea!”

(AH!! Daisuke!! You’re crazy!! I don’t know!! I don’t know!!)

 

When I thrust up from below in the cowgirl position, Ena’s shapely br3asts shook violently.

Though she’s supposed to be on top, I’m completely in control. With each upward surge, Ena arches her pale back and lets out high-pitched moans.

It feels like I’ve suddenly become a master at s3x.

But don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve only been out of virginity for a month – still half a virgin by any measure.

There’s no way I could actually make a white beauty like Ena lose control. This is all just an act born of her kindness.

 

“AHH!! Su peenis on hull!! Su seks on “Ahh!! Väga suur!!”

(AHH! Your p3nis is huge! Your s3x is superb!)

 

Even so, seeing Ena get all wild doesn’t make me feel bad as a man.

It’s as if I’ve truly conquered a tall, white beauty through s3x.

Didn’t I want to see Ena lose control?

No, truth be told, I did want to see it.

I wanted to see her straddle me, instincts laid bare.

 

“AHH!! Väga suur!!” (AHH! So big!)

 

Even when she lost control, instinct taking over, Ena remained Ena.

Her gentle features, her beautiful body – not a single thing had changed.

I’d always feared that s3x would transform girls.

Liz and Amanda had shown no signs of promiscuity at first either, but once we started, they’d metamorphosed into lewd women.

At first, I thought it was just white culture. But even in those adult videos from the West, white women never got so wild.

It was like some kind of magic spell was cast over my s3x.

Not that I thought my technique was particularly amazing.

There are plenty of white and black men out there with bigger penises than mine.

Yet every white woman I slept with would start craving s3x with me like a changed person.

That scared me.

Of course, their s3x was pleasurable, but at the same time, it made me uneasy.

But making love to Ena was different from all my previous encounters with women.

She remained true to herself. Even as we lost ourselves in the pleasure of s3x, she would occasionally wrap her gentle smile around my heart.

I was truly seeing Ena.

And Ena was truly seeing me.

Only then did I finally understand what real s3x meant.

 

“Ah! Daisuke! Ma olen kummitus! Ma olen kummitus, Daisuke!”

 

This time we switched to a face-to-face position, gazing into each other’s eyes while confirming the warmth of our bodies and the sensation of our intimate parts.

We already understood each other completely.

Even without words, even without knowing the paths we’d walked, the overlapping parts of us conveyed our feelings.

We loved each other.

Different countries spoke different languages, but we didn’t need to express those feelings in words.

Through s3x, we felt each other’s love.

Ena had said to do it with confidence.

Now I could do it.

If I could make Ena feel like this…

My c0ck, my s3x—neither was something to be discarded so easily.

 

“AH!! Daisuke!! Ole nüüd!!” (Ah! Daisuke! Now, now!)

 

As the impending climax loomed, I instinctively tried to pull out once, but Ena silenced me with her lips pressed against mine.

I’d come inside women this way before, but this release felt different.

This was s3x meant to impregnate her properly.

Consented-to insemination, sealed with promises about our future.

 

“AH!! Ma olen kummitus!!” (Ah! I’m overwhelmed!)

 

As Ena clung to my back and squeezed her pvssy, I ejaculated with all my heart and soul.

Not a single drop would escape.

I’d fill her womb completely.

Slowly, methodically, I guided my seed into her cervix, ensuring every drop reached its mark.

 

“Ah…”

 

It was an incredibly long orgasm.

Longer and more pleasurable than any other internal release I’d ever experienced.

With each spurt of my climax, Ena’s slender body shuddered violently, yet she refused to break our embrace.

Her small br3asts pressed against my chest, and our n1pples rubbed against each other.

We exchanged embarrassed glances, cheeks flushing crimson.

I love Ena.

The thought resonated deep within me.

◆　◆　◆

 

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

 

I had to rush back to Japan. After breakfast at Ena’s house the next morning, I delivered the news. Though her face showed a hint of loneliness, she accepted it with a quiet “I understand.”

Our relationship had reached this point. Taking responsibility felt like the right thing to do, and I sensed that’s what she wanted too.

But until I resolve the issues in Japan… that sentiment remains true.

If all of them are pregnant, I’ll have to take responsibility.

I know it’s absurd to even consider taking responsibility for Ena on top of that.

 

“I’ll definitely come for you, so please wait for me.”

 

To the woman I’d grown close to—whether she was my girlfriend or not, I didn’t know—I confessed my feelings in Japanese.

It might have been cowardly.

It might have been irresponsible.

But I knew I could never treat her with indifference.

Her s3x gave me peace.

Once I thought comfort and pleasure couldn’t coexist, but our serious encounters contained clear tranquility within their ecstasy.

Was she my destined partner?

I had no way to confirm it.

What I know for certain is that I’m in love with Ena.

And she’s accepting that feeling with her whole body.

There’s absolutely no way we’ll lose touch.

Once I settle things in Japan, I’ll contact her for sure,

And I’ve decided to propose marriage to her.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Day 36-37: Gare du Nord → Palais Garnier → Charles de Gaulle Airport → Tallinn Airport → Tallinn Old Town

Travel Distance: 1,625 km (Total in Europe: 2,110 km)

Means of Transportation: Walking, Roissy Bus, Airplane, Tram

Cash on Hand: €736 (+$5,190)

Expenses:

Croissant bought in Montmartre -€4.5

Roissy Bus fare (Palais Garnier → Charles de Gaulle Airport) -€11.5

Airfare Pari → Tallinn -€233

Tram fare (Tallinn Airport → Tallinn Old Town) -€3

Breakfast at Ena’s house -€0

Money paid to Ena for a portrait -€10

262

Balance

€474 (+€5,190)

––––––––––––

White women Daisuke met in Europe

United Kingdom

Jessica Heathrow (24)

Silvia Stanton (12)

Stacy Stanton (30)

France

Emily Claudel (18)

Estonia

Ena Claus (22)

Total: 5