Jizzemboweler (Part 01)

"Permission tat, please."

The man smiled at the female security officer guarding the gate of the Floating World and nodded, "Of course."

Unzipping his trousers, he pulled out his pecker.

She cupped his cock from underneath in a warm hand and placed her other atop the tattoo there. The scanner in her palm flashed a blue-white light outlining his dick.

He moved to redress, but the officer kept his dick in a firm hold. He froze. One wrong move and she'd send a thousand volts through it with her TEzer.

"Quite weighty." A trace of suspicion in her voice. She hefted it several times, letting the meat slap against the flesh of her palm.

With cool, practiced calm, he blushed, "Ma'am. I do believe, I'm flustered." The meat in her hand increased as the flow of blood brought on a partial erection.

She dropped his dick with a glare in her eye and signaled for him to dress. He did so, tipped his hat and started through the large, wooden gate.

On the other side, the ruckus of weekend festivities burst to life with crowds of men and women eager to dive into the varied sexual delights offered along tightly grid-set streets of the red-light district.

Hologram punters called out to passers-by, touting their wares of colorfully-clothed indentured sex slaves encaged in wooden-barred verandas.

As he walked, he employed Facial Tectonic chips to alter his appearance in Have-we-met-before? proportions. Over fifty pre-programmed disguises.

Calling up a tagged AR overlap of the entire area in his right eye, he perused the data of each prostitute house as he passed until he finally decided upon one he had not yet visited–The Blossoming Lotus.

It would be here. It was decided deep within his heart. This is where he must perform the act.

Behind the wooden slats sat a row of beautiful women, a row of beautiful men, and a row shared by androids and SynthFucks. He chose a woman from the front row with long hair that cascaded down over her robes and a blacklight smile.

Paying in virtual tokens he'd purchased near the gate, he removed his shoes and entered the brothel whereupon he was greeted by an ageless woman in a deep purple kimono. Smoke from a cigarette in a long-stemmed holder wreathed her coifed hair. She bowed in greeting, thanking him in a long torrent of polite language wrapped in greed and faux desire.

She continued spewing a memorized spiel that plied the history of the house to exalted heights of absurdity until the girl he had chosen appeared from behind a panel. The houses of the Floating World were rife with discreet passages and rooms to allow for seamless, timely entrances when tea or fuck toys were called for.

The girl bowed and greeted him as her mistress had, and bid the man follow her. Though the rooms were all equipped with soundproofing, an undertone of chiptune-shamisen white noise plunked tastefully through the narrow, panel-lined halls. Along which the samurai elite and their lovers jerked in and out of staccato sexual acts by overlapping high-res ukiyo-e images.

They entered her sparse quarters where he immediately began to remove his clothes.

"If you would like–"

"No," he interrupted her. "I appreciate it, but, the truth is, I am only interested in fucking."

She bowed in acknowledgment.

The shower was a steamy affair of nanite-laced hot water that cleansed them both and checked for diseases. Upon returning to the main chamber, she led him to a futon. Running two slender fingers up from underneath his scrotum, she tickle-caressed his balls, bringing his cock to rock-hard perfection.

--

Continued in part 02