Sex is the Best Way to Learn About Other Cultures. - Chapter 4

When you think of Russia, the first thing that comes to mind is that it used to be a socialist country.

I don’t actually know how their wage system or social structure works, but all the countries I’ve traveled through so far—the United States and various Western European nations—are capitalist.

More importantly, Japan itself, where I was born and raised, is a capitalist country. In a way, I was slightly curious about what a “closed-off” socialist country would be like.

Socialism.

Unlike the capitalism we know, it’s a society that values fairness and equality for everyone.

There are no people who make excessively high wages, and there are no people who are excessively poor.

In a sense, it’s a happy society for the weak. In capitalist countries, people who get kicked out of society and lose their jobs would actually be able to live a minimum standard of living under the ideals of socialism.

If socialist principles were applied to romance and s3x, even a non-charming ex-virgin like me would be guaranteed at least the minimum standard of a female partner.

Of course, this is purely hypothetical, but in Japan, while handsome men, wealthy playboys, and promiscuous womanizers never lack partners, guys like us—unpopular and unattractive—can’t even shed our virginity without resorting to certain establishments, even after turning twenty, thirty, or in some cases, forty.

During my time in Japan, I was utterly envious.

The woman I confessed to, only to be rejected:

Nishizono Kaede from the literature department, Yamanaka Erika, and countless others—I could never have s3x with them. Yet there are men who can bed women just because they have good looks or are seasoned players.

This is profoundly unfair. I’ve long believed Japan should adopt socialist principles regarding s3x.

Of course, even here in Russia, no such socialist system for s3x has been implemented.

We non-populars remain non-popular even in a socialist state; the hierarchy remains unchanged.

Yet I came to this country with a glimmer of hope.

I boarded the LUX Express international bus in Tallinn, Estonia, and spent nearly eight hours traveling to enter this Eastern European powerhouse.

In reality, I should have immediately flown back to Japan.

Even though I had committed the immorality of giving in to my carnal desires to Ena in Estonia.

I followed my desires and came to this Eastern European powerhouse.

Powerhouse.

It goes without saying that Russia is a powerhouse.

During the Soviet era, it was one wing of the Cold War, and its territory alone makes it the world’s largest country.

Though sharing a border with Estonia in Eastern Europe, Japan is considered a neighbor in a sense due to the sea between us. The vastness of this country is truly immeasurable.

The official language is Russian.

Territory: 17 million square kilometers.

Population: 140 million people.

There’s a specific reason I’ve set foot on this grand land. It’s because…

“Wow, they’re tall…”

Both men and women walking the streets here are quite tall.

I mean the so-called “model physique” type, though of course not everyone fits that mold. But the height and waist-to-shoulder ratio here is higher than not just Japanese people like me, but also the folks from the United States and European countries I’ve visited before.

In terms of average height, the German and Dutch people I flew past on my plane probably have higher averages. But when I see young women here who are taller than me, it really drives home the differences between our ethnic groups.

“Even bigger…”

And it wasn’t just their height that was impressive.

The young woman walking down the street had br3asts that defied belief.

Russia’s reputation for having a high percentage of women with large br3asts is well-known worldwide, and the reality lived up to the rumors. Every woman on the street seemed to have an E-cup or larger chest as standard. But because their bodies were naturally larger to begin with, even E-cup br3asts looked completely different from Japanese women’s – it was like comparing clouds to mud.

Beautiful,

Great figures,

Big br3ast.

The women walking the streets of Moscow left me utterly speechless.

It’s said that Russian women tend to gain weight quickly as they age, but at least among women under thirty, their beauty was unmatched by women from Europe or the United States.

Estonia had plenty of tall, beautiful women too, but they were Finns—Finnish in origin.

In Russia, where Eastern Slavs predominate, the style differs significantly. Primarily in one aspect: br3ast size.

“Coming to Russia was worth it…”

I wanted to stroll through Moscow’s streets at least once, watching Russian women with their big br3asts strutting about.

I know it’s outrageously inappropriate, given the responsibility I’ll soon bear.

But since I’ll be forced into abstinence from now on, I wanted to savor Russian women’s br3asts while I could.

Even if it meant seeing them from afar, I wanted to bask in that visual feast at least once in my life.

The reputation of Russia as a giant-breasted nation? No exaggeration whatsoever.

I’m truly glad I came to this country.

“It’s about time… to get going.”

Having thoroughly burned the images of Russian beauties’ massive br3asts into my mind, I set off toward Moscow’s train station.

I came to Russia primarily to see big br3asts, but of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

First, there was the matter of money.

Taking an international flight from Tallinn to Japan was more expensive than taking the Siberian Railway from Moscow to Vladivostok, then catching a ship or plane from there.

Of course, the difference was negligible, and depending on how I bought tickets, flying from Tallinn might have been cheaper. But considering the money I needed for future living expenses, I wanted to save as much as possible.

Especially since I owed Alicia in the United States $10,000, I needed to stretch my remaining funds as far as possible to repay her.

And then there was another reason.

I wanted to prioritize land travel as much as possible for my world tour.

In my original travel plan, I intended to move by hitchhiking or train for everything except sea travel.

Along the way, I had to use a plane from France to Estonia due to time constraints, but by limiting the rest to land travel, I wanted to feel like I’d truly circled the globe.

Of course, you can circle the world by air too, but I thought the sense of accomplishment would be different between walking the earth with your feet on the ground and achieving it accidentally while flying.

Shamefully, I haven’t accomplished anything in my life so far.

The goal I set in middle school – to graduate from being a virgin before high school graduation – crumbled without any hope of success.

Thanks to the free s3x culture overseas, I was lucky enough to lose my virginity, but it was more of an accident than something I achieved through my own will.

The whole point of this journey was to heal a heart broken by a hundred heartbreaks, so sleeping with a white woman meant absolutely nothing.

Still, during my summer break from university, I borrowed a lot of people’s strength, but I would complete the world tour alone.

Just achieving that felt like it would open up my life.

Instead of the stifling existence in Japan, I sensed a new world waiting for me.

That’s why crossing Russia by land was essential.

The train ride from Moscow to Vladivostok took a whole week, but that week felt like the final grace period life had given me.

Once I returned to Japan, the weight of responsibility would crush my shoulders.

To prepare myself for that, I clung to these last seven days overseas.

“Which station is it…?”

That said, the path ahead wasn’t simple.

The map I bought at the bus stop shop was in Russian, and honestly, it might as well not have existed.

I mustered the courage to ask someone directly, but when I spoke up.

“Что?” (What?)

It turned out English simply doesn’t work here.

No matter who I addressed, the response was always incomprehensible Russian.

In Western Europe, everyone spoke English, but here it might as well have been a foreign language—like asking “English? Is that something tasty?”

Come to think of it, English is the language of an enemy country to Russians.

For people who believe Russia is the best in the world, foreign languages naturally don’t make sense. This experience taught me how arrogant it is to assume English works everywhere.

“What should I do…?”

My journey, which had relied on broken English and gestures up until now, had finally hit a dead end.

I tried taking out a map and asking where Moscow Station was, but I couldn’t even tell which of the places on the map was Moscow Station.

There’s no turning back now.

In this place, I’ll have to earn my keep by putting one foot in front of the other.

“It’s surprisingly warm here…”

I wander through Moscow’s streets, aimlessly wandering and taking random turns.

The blazing sun is unexpectedly scorching, reminding me that even in Russia, famous for its permafrost, summer is still in full swing.

“It looks like a residential area…”

I went a little off the main road and walked through an area lined with four- and five-story apartment buildings.

Red-brick Western-style architecture.

In my first year of university, I read Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment for a liberal arts course. Now, I’m walking through exactly the kind of historic streetscape I imagined back then.

Is there really a station ahead?

I have no idea, but as I breathe in the crisp Russian air, I think – perhaps delusionally – that getting lost is part of the travel experience.

If I never find the station, I might be spared the burden of responsibility.

Perhaps God heard my wicked thoughts.

“Woah!!”

In the next instant, I found myself drenched from head to toe in a torrent of water.

The suddenness of it all left me frozen in place.

The massive volume of water crashing down from above, combined with the evaporative cooling effect, instantly chilled my body heated by the summer sun.

My only decent outfit—tattered jeans and a frayed T-shirt—was now thoroughly soaked, and even my underwear had been reduced to a sodden mess.

This was Russia’s baptism.

Is this how Asians are treated here? I wondered.

As the reality of persistent racial discrimination in white society hit home, I cautiously looked up.

“Ты в порядке!?” (Are you alright?!)

From the fifth-floor window of an apartment building, the face of the Virgin Mary herself peered down at me.

The woman was an adult white female with blond hair that flowed in gentle waves.

She held a bucket in her hand and turned pale when she saw me completely drenched.

That was how I first met Sofiya.

◆　◆　◆

“Извините, пожалуйста.” (I’m terribly sorry.)

The blond woman who had rushed down the apartment stairs bowed deeply in apology when she saw me, soaked.

A beautiful woman with long, fluffy, vibrant blonde hair and a gentle demeanor.

Her clear blue eyes and perfectly balanced features gave her a look like the Virgin Mary. Though she was an adult woman, she seemed quite young – probably in her mid to late twenties.

Dressed in a light blue dress and pink apron, the first thought that came to mind was “full-time housewife.”

It was hard to believe she’d deliberately splashed me with water out of malice. More likely, some accident had put her in a position where she ended up drenching me.

While I couldn’t completely rule out the possibility of racial discrimination like in other European countries, this woman’s serene and modest demeanor made me confident that such motives wouldn’t apply to her.

“Пожалуйста следуйте за мной.” (Please follow me.)

“Huh? Wait—”

The pristine woman took my hand and guided me up the stairs.

Her hands, chilled from constant water work, felt icy against mine. Despite being in Eastern Europe, the image of a snow maiden flashed through my mind.

She was undeniably beautiful, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine being led inside someone’s home by such a stunning woman.

“Я вытру тебя.” (I’ll dry you off.)

She invited me, soaking wet, into her home and dashed into the inner rooms.

As I ascended the stairs, the carpet and floor became soaked through, but she paid no mind to this.

She simply seemed intent on making amends for the accident that had drenched me in water.

“Пожалуйста, сними одежду.” (Please, remove your clothes.)

“Huh?”

Suddenly, she brought over a towel and reached for my shirt. Panicking, I hastily rejected her gesture.

She probably intended to wipe my wet body, but exposing myself to such a beauty in a confined space wasn’t wise.

“I-I’ll do it myself.”

I snatched the bath towel from her, roughly wiping my entire body through my clothes.

Normally, I’d want to stay here until my wet clothes dried, but I’m terrified my bad habit might resurface.

My bad habit.

It’s this: I immediately have s3x with white women.

For some inexplicable reason, every woman I’ve exchanged more than three words with during my travels has ended up in bed with me.

The circumstances vary, but I indulge in their bodies as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Part of this stems from the free s3x culture prevalent in Europe and America.

But even so, having s3x with women who aren’t my fiancée or girlfriend is fundamentally dishonest.

I’ve already committed enough indiscretions during this journey, and I can’t afford to violate any more white women.

“Все нормально. Все это рука Бога.” (Everything is fine. This is all the hand of God.)

She took the towel from me, then started wiping my head with motherly tenderness.

The fingers stimulating my scalp brought physical pleasure. At the same time, the fact that such a beauty was wiping my head fulfilled my need for approval to the fullest.

I wanted her to keep wiping my head forever.

Every time I felt my hair drying more, I wanted her to wait just a little longer.

Just being touched by this person wrapped me in warmth and comfort.

The Virgin Mary.

Or perhaps Sonya from Crime and Punishment—Sofia Semyonovna Marmeladova.

In my mind, her status instantly ascended to the realm of the divine.

Meeting this woman was a miracle.

That alone made this journey worthwhile.

“Прошу прощения.” (Excuse me.)

“Ah…”

Perhaps because I’d been so thoroughly lulled by the comfort, I found myself accepting the shirt-removal procedure that I’d rejected earlier without a second thought.

In no time, I was stripped to the waist, my back, abdomen, and various other areas being wiped down.

Amidst this process, I became acutely aware of one particular fact.

(Huge…)

Her br3asts were extraordinarily large.

They dwarfed even those of Amanda and Diana, women I’d previously encountered.

At first, their size had been concealed by her oversized apron, but now revealed, her chest easily surpassed the boundaries of “large” or even “huge” proportions.

True to Russia’s reputation as a nation of giants.

To think my reason for coming to this country would grant me such a prime viewing position.

“Я сниму твои штаны.” (I’ll remove your trousers now.)

“Huh?”

While I stood transfixed by her br3asts, my pants were swiftly pulled down.

She must have stripped me to wash my clothes, but what she found hidden beneath was not what she expected.

“Зачем…?” (Why…?)

Seeing my tented trunks, she was utterly speechless.

Far from being properly covered, my buttoned-up social window had sprung open, half-revealing my erect glans.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

There are forces beyond our control. But when faced with the blunder of exposing an erect p3nis to a young woman—a married one at that—I could only offer endless apologies.

Had I been able to act before my trousers came off, I would have. But the complete failure of English communication proved disastrous.

Against the saintly woman who kindly wiped my body, I’d committed the unthinkable: flaunting my erect c0ck.

Report.

The word flashed through my mind.

Then came the Russian police and her husband, ready to beat me up.

“Меня зовут София. Как вас зовут?” (My name is Sofiya. What is your name?)

Feeling as if she’d asked my name in Russian, I simply replied “Daisuke.”

Sofiya—I assumed it was her name. It seemed like an ideal name that perfectly embodied her physical beauty.

“О Господи, пожалуйста, прости меня за то, что я сосал его пенис.”

(Oh God, please forgive me for sucking his p3nis.)

Then, for some reason, Sofiya made the sign of the cross,

“Huh? What…?”

She knelt on the floor, looking apologetic. Without warning, she took hold of my filty p3nis and shoved it into her beautiful mouth.

“W-Why…?”

The sudden chaste blowjob left me unable to hide my shock.

The sensation of her tongue covering both the glans and the upper shaft made me shudder involuntarily.

(How did this happen…)

Even amid chaos, Sofiya’s fervent blowjob continued. For about fifteen minutes.

Perhaps frustrated by my lack of ejaculation, she abruptly shed her apron and dress, exposing her formidable bust through her bra.

This was no longer a matter of cup sizes.

Her br3asts were so massive they’d be impossible to find bras for in Japan. My eyes were instantly captivated by their sheer scale.

Then…

“Ah…”

As the bra was removed without ceremony, all I could manage was a pathetic whimper.

With the restraining garment gone, her liberated br3asts and n1pples revealed a divine realm of voluptuousness.

“Я сниму твои штаны…” (I’ll take off your pants…)

“Ahh…”

Finally, the eagerly anticipated br3ast job began. Elasticity. Softness. Both qualities existed on entirely different planes. Her formidable br3asts enveloped my p3nis completely, squeezing it beautifully between her voluptuous br3ast.

It felt incredible…

This was my first time experiencing such an intense br3ast job…

When comparing her to all the women I’d been with before, I had to give her overwhelming superiority in the art of br3ast job.

There was no comparison to be made.

The bounce of her br3asts against my chest, the springy resistance of her hips.

If there could be anything better than this, it would only be a future s3x robot’s perfect br3ast job.

“Ah! I’m cumming!”

Overwhelmed by the pleasure, I cum instantly.

My released semen naturally stained Sofiya’s face and br3asts, soaking into her skin with my stench.

“Вы довольны сейчас…?” (Are you satisfied now…?)

When she asked in Russian, I answered with the physical language of my second erection.

I want more.

I want to feel good with you.

The desires I’d been suppressing suddenly surged forth, making me see this married woman as nothing more than a convenient masturbator.

And then…

“Ой!!!” (Oh!!!)

I pinned her down in the kitchen and thrust into Sofiya.

I ripped off her panties, forced her hands against the kitchen counter, and thrust my c0ck into her from behind.

At the end of that tangled sensation, my glans kissed her cervix.

The moment I plunged in, her massive buttocks—no less impressive than her br3asts—shook like a seismic wave.

Rape.

If someone called it that, I couldn’t deny it.

But she hadn’t resisted when stripped, and her dripping wet pvssy asserted that it was an act of mutual consent.

“Ой! большой!” (Oh! Big!)

Even when I began serious pistoning, she offered no resistance.

She simply remained with her hands on the counter, passively accepting my thrusts.

Dry slapping sounds echoed through the marital chamber.

But these weren’t the clashing of hips—rather, the impact of her enormous br3asts colliding against her abdomen.

What incredible br3asts she has.

To think I could have s3x with someone possessing such magnificent br3asts…

“Ой! Я кончаю! Какой огромный пенис!”

(Oh! I’m cumming! What an enormous p3nis!!!)

Soon, Sofiya’s intense cries made me realize our connected lower bodies were convulsing.

Seeing her pvssy clenching down violently, I knew this wasn’t an act – she’d truly come.

Never would I have imagined I could make my Russian fantasy woman climax through s3x.

“Ой! Иван! Иван! Иван!” (Oh! Ivan! Ivan! Ivan!)

I realized she was shouting someone’s name.

Though I suspected it might be her husband’s, I pretended not to hear and kept fucking the Russian married woman all night.

“О Боже! Пожалуйста, прости меня за то, что пришел!!”

(O God! Please forgive me for cumming!!)

As I thrust into her from behind, Sofiya repeatedly made the sign of the cross, her movements slicing through the air.

Is she a devout Christian? I wondered. I didn’t know if all Europeans acted this way, but every time Sofiya crossed herself, her pvssy clenched so fiercely that it only fueled my desire. Encouraged by this reaction, I pounded her Russian pvssy even harder.

Having defiled women from America, Estonia, and now Russia, I could say my journey’s purpose was complete.

“Ah! Sofiya! It’s okay to cum inside, right!!”

Excited from s3x, I loaded my balls with semen for ejaculation.

A devout Christian. And I know that cumming inside a married woman is unforgivable, but

“Ой! Я кончаю!” (Oh! I’m cumming!)

“Ahh!!”

It’s precisely because it’s forbidden that an overwhelming sense of guilt assaults my c0ck.

In sync with the Russian married woman’s pvssy clenching, I unleash a torrent of semen without even wearing a condom.

It was the best.

Inseminating a Russian wife with big br3asts was the best.

“Aahh!! Sofiya!!”

“Дайсуке（ダイスケ）!! Ой!‼︎ Дайсуке（ダイスケ）!!”

(Daisuke!! Oh!!! Daisuke!!)

In the end, I managed to cum inside Sofiya’s pvssy fifteen times throughout the night.

Her husband never came home, which meant I could have s3x with Sofiya all night. But even though this was a different kind of cheating than before, it wasn’t like I didn’t feel any guilt at all.

But as I left…

When I left Sofiya’s house, fully dressed in clothes that had long since dried—

“Спасибо(Thank you).”

The “thank you” that came from her lips made me feel like she forgave me for everything.

I know that might be my selfish delusion, but if Sofiya enjoyed our time together even a little bit, then maybe my journey to this country wasn’t pointless after all.

After passing through the residential area, I headed toward Moscow Station as Sofiya had instructed.

From there, I would board the Siberian Railway, and my final destination would be Vladivostok—the city that’s practically within sight of Japan.

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

Day 38-39: Tallinn Old Town → Moscow City Center → Yaroslavsky Station

Travel Distance: 1,013 km (Total Europe Distance: 3,123 km)

Means of Travel: LUX Express, Walking

Balance: €474 (+$5,190)

Expenses:

LUX Express (Tallinn-Moscow) -€30

Russian Entry Visa -€80

Exchange: €364 → 30,408 RUB

Piroshki and Soda in Moscow -374 RUB

Remaining Balance: 30,034 RUB (+$5,190)

White women Daisuke encountered in Europe:

United Kingdom

Jessica Heathrow (24)

Silvia Stanton (12)

Stacy Stanton (30)

France

Emily Claudel (18)

Estonia

Ena Claus (22)

Russia

Sofiya Melnichenko (26)

Total: 6