Angel of mercy gives
homeless men a hand
By Masuo Kamiyama
Contributing Writer
October 25, 2004
You're a homeless man in Nagoya camped out in the park adjacent to
Nagoya Castle or one of the several public areas where dozens of
vagrants have erected makeshift abodes made of blue plastic
tarpaulins.
Having been down on your luck for so long, sex, if on your mind at
all, is probably little more than a distant memory. And since it's
been days, sometimes even months since your last bath, the prospect
of finding female companionship is likely to be all the more
remote.
Certainly the last thing you'd ever expect would be to be awakened
from a sound sleep by an attractive young female who has slipped
into your shelter, opened the fly of your pants, and begun to
provide relief in the form of hand jobs, or oral sex.
Yet, increasing numbers of homeless men in Nagoya's parks swear
this has happened to them. Did these pleasurable experiences
actually occur? Or was it merely something emanating out of the fog
of alcohol-induced stupor?
Underground magazine Uramono Japan (October) swears the story is
true. Apparently some women are so turned on by male pheromones,
they won't accept anything less than a full concentration,
unadulterated by soap and water. Or perhaps they're fetishists for
dirt, grime and ordure.
Be as it may, those on the receiving end of her ministrations
aren't complaining.
"Her hand technique is fantastic, but her fellatio is exceptional,"
one of Nagoya's lumpenproletariat insists. "She sneaked in and did
it to me one night, I swear!"
Intrigued by this somewhat incredible story, one day last summer
Ikkyu Muromachi --- nom de plume of a Kyoto-based freelance writer
--- hit the Meishin Expressway and drove from Kyoto to Nagoya. In
order to pass for a real homeless man and not just some cheapskate
looking for a free blow job, Muromachi had prepared for his
investigative report by refraining from bathing for the previous
seven days, working up a rank body odor hopefully convincing enough
for him to pass for the real thing.
Making the rounds in the parks, Muromachi asked fellow bums about
the woman.
"She doesn't seem to be from Nagoya," says one wizened older chap,
between sips of sake. "She began slipping into the parks at night
about a year ago. Supposed to be about 32 or 33. Not bad looking
either..."
"Did she do it to you?" an incredulous Muromachi asks.
"Hell no! Those kind of promiscuous broads ain't my type," the old
codger mutters.
After a full week of uneventful nights in various parks throughout
the city, the "miracle" that Muromachi had waited for finally
occurred.
"Turning over in my sleep, I thought I heard approaching
footsteps," he writes. "Then I saw the human figure of
indeterminate gender the faint light. The footsteps sounded like a
woman's. I got the feeling she was coming for me."
Muromachi felt a brief panic, wondering if the person might be
armed with a cutting instrument intending to do him harm. But then
he felt a gentle hand on his inner thigh.
"At first I couldn't believe it," he writes. "Could this be real?"
But he smelled her floral perfume, and immediately stiffened.
Slim fingers crept up to his waistband, groped over the button,
released it and tugged down his trousers. Muromachi lifted his
waist to help slip them off, at which time his own rank body odor
wafted toward his nose. Ugh.
Kneeling over him, the woman proceeded to run her tongue along the
underside of his phallus for its entire length, and then took his
full erection into her mouth, head nodding while making slurping
noises onomatopoeically described as "chiro-chiro jupu-jupu."
"I can't hold back and longer, I'm coming!" he groaned, and but she
kept it in her mouth and, while he spurted in ecstasy, sucked him
dry.
Then with no further ado, she vanished into the darkness. From what
little he saw of the woman, Muromachi says the she had sloping eyes
with long lashes, somewhat resembling actress Yoshiko Sakaguchi.
She wore black jeans.
"There were so many things I wanted to ask her," writes Muromachi.
"But she never spoke."
Back home in Kyoto, Muromachi tells Uramono Japan every time he
reminisces over his experience he feels a stirring in his loins.
Apparently sleeping under vinyl sheeting in a public park was worth
it. In the hope of duplicating the experience he's planning a
return Nagoya this autumn.
http://mdn.mainichi.co.jp/waiwai/0410/1025angel.html
wah I also want 
