41 - Sixth Tale of the Japanese Cemetery - The Cold Kisses

Miu stepped carefully down from the step of the shrine to fetch the next candle.

"So many strange stories centered around this cemetery," she said. "It developed a reputation. Many gave it a wide berth, and entered only for funerals or to pay their respect to the dead. At night, the priestesses closed themselves. No one came here. This, of course, made it attractive for others...and so I tell you the story of

THE COLD KISSES

Hideo's first real blowjob was in the cemetery.

He had bought the dildo online, and normally hid it in his backpack, where his roommates couldn't find it. In the bathroom, he could practice with it. Play out the scenarios in his head. The transman at the gloryhole, sucking on those hard cocks. Except this was the real world, and there weren't any gloryholes in any bathroom Hideo knew of. Just roommates telling him to finish brushing his teeth or whatever because they needed to get ready for a date.

His palms had been sweaty when Hideo scribbled his number in the last stall of the men's lavatory on the third floor of the university library. A place he could get in trouble just being in. Yet he couldn't deny the excitement when he scribbled above the number, in kanji:

SUCK YOUR COCK. TEXT ME.

Even some of the Japanese population in Dagon's Hollow didn't read kanji. This made it convenient for gay and trans people. Lewd messages that would alert campus authorities just looked like random graffiti. Killroy was here, Tokyo-style.

A week went by. Two. The burner phone in Hideo's pocket as he went from his classes to his on-campus job as a cafeteria server, where they didn't care if he wore slacks instead of a skirt, to back to his off-campus apartment which he shared with three other people. Two weeks where privacy was something that existed in snatches, in between chore schedules, coursework, cheap beer and cheaper ramen, and time was measured out in tablets of estrogen.

Then, the text.

JAPANESE CEMETERY. NORTHWEST CORNER. MIDNIGHT.

Hideo froze. It could be a trick. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought about ****. About whether he was ready to suck his first real dick. Then his fingers fumbled at the phone.

YES. SEE YOU THEN. 8===D

At 11, Hideo took a few minutes in the bathroom to fix his makeup. He had seen gay guys wear makeup, and it didn't make them girly. Black lipstick. Tease his eyelashes. A little mascara. Just enough to look...he didn't know how to put it.

"I want to leave some lipstick on his cock," Hideo told the reflection in the mirror. The very feminine-looking young man, wearing dark jeans and a hoodie as he headed out.

The gate to the cemetery was open. That surprised Hideo. He hadn't been by the cemetery for years, and then during daylight, but he knew they drew a gate closed, yet here it was clear that it wasn't closed all the way. There was a gap, a little over a foot wide, enough for a skinny transman to scrape through, feeling his boobs smooshed more uncomfortable than normal in the binder.

Then he was through. Among the stone markers of the graves in their silent rows and gravel paths. Hideo didn't go toward the shrine—too much chance someone inside might hear his sneakers on the gravel—but went along the wall, making the square as he headed toward the northwest corner.

There was a tree there, an old willow with long, swaying limbs. Someone stood in the shadow of that tree, as if afraid of the moonlight.

"Hello," Hideo said, in Japanese.

The figure drew a little closer. There was a stone marker there, sunken into the earth, ending at about waist-height. A movement of the hands, and something soft and white was laid on top of the stone.

Hideo sucked in air. That...was a cock. A real cock. He resisted the urge to lick his lips, not wanting to ruin his lipstick. Instead, with a confidence he didn't feel, he knelt on the grave, opened his mouth. The barely-visible man lifted his dick off the stone, and Hideo let his chin rest there, tongue out. Offering himself.

"Kiss it," the shadow said. So Hideo did. Brought his lips together and pressed them against that dark glans.

It was a cool night. A little breeze stirred the limbs of the tree. Still, it was a shock when the cold tip of that dick touched Hideo's hot lips. It was the coldest kiss he had ever had. Then, feeling bold, Hideo opened his mouth a little and let his tongue play around the swelling glans. It was like licking an ice pop. He knelt there, trying to remember everything he'd learned about sucking dick, everything he'd practice as the cool flesh slid into his mouth and seemed to steal the warmth from it.

"Just like that," the voice spoke in Japanese, a dry voice like the rustle of leaves. "Don't move."

The cock swelled hard. It was no warmer than the cold stone that Hideo rested his chin on. The hard shaft pushed in and out of his mouth, over his lips, the lipstick leaving black trails on the ivory flesh. There was no sound of panting, no sense of urgency, jet Hideo could see his own breath fog the air. His lips felt chapped by the cold dick. Yet he did his best. This was his oral virginity, after all. Being used by a stranger sent an erotic thrill through him. He sucked hard, hollowed out his cheeks, let his tongue play along the smooth underside of the glans. Hideo wanted to do more, but there was a limit to what he could do in this position, without his hands or moving his head.

It was enough for the unseen that the warm mouth of the cocksucker was his to fuck.

There wasn't a grunt, just a sort of hiss, a sigh that might have been the wind in the tree.

Then his mouth filled. Not with hot, sticky cum, not the jizz of Hideo's dreams that he had guzzled by the mouthful, but with dust. Hot, dry dust that exploded in his mouth like that time he had taken a spoonful of nutmeg on a bet. A cold hand pressed down on the top of Hideo's head, pinning him in place as he choked, lungs protesting.

"Swallow," the voice said, and it was like a susurrus of leaves, all whispering "swallow, swallow."

Convulsing, tears streaming from his eyes, Hideo swallowed. A hard, gritty lump of dust **** its way down his throat, lubricated only by spit. It hit his stomach with a cold that made him immediately nauseous. Then, and only then, did he pull his cock out from between Hideo's lips.

Hideo coughed, looked up through tear-stained eyes...but the figure was gone. The shadows beneath the tree were empty.

But there were others.

They stood behind various gravestones. Pale figures in grave clothes. Their heads turned towards him. Waiting.

The shiver that went through Hideo's body had only a little to do with the cold night. Although he could not see it, his tongue was black, nor would it ever be any other color. He licked his lips, and they would be black too, as though the makeup never came off. Ever since he began his transition, he had wanted to suck cock—and here, at last, was all the cock he could ever want—

Miu held the candle over a nearby gravestone. There was a spot on the very stop that had been worn clean, though on either side of it the stone was stained as with age.

"There was a gift. Ever since that night, Hideo could see things that no one else could see. That talent brought him into strange places, and stranger experiences. Yet what he never explained to me was who sent him that initial text."

So saying, Miu snuffed out the candle.