|
|
#1
03-21-2007, 06:42 AM
|
|||
|
|||
Japanese bathroom trip report
A hand from behind me politely taps me on the shoulder and I look up from my ipod to see an unengaged customs official. I walk up, hand over my passport and pretend to pay attention, and he quietly grants me leave to enter his country for some arbitrary number of days. I stroll away from the first checkpoint and look around the baggage area for one of my spotters. I see milf-in-red and blonde-with-douche over by carrousel 4. If attractive girls travelled light I would probably never find my luggage. I make a mental note and head to the bathroom. After a 14 hour flight, I could use a shower, shave, and massage, but the best I'm going to get is the stick of Old Spice I have crammed somewhere in my carryon.
The lights in the bathroom are a bit brighter and a pleasant tune is playing. I perk up a bit. There are two stalls, each with a different sign. They're both unoccupied, so I take a peek. Option 1:  Option 2:  Despite the fact that the first stall has a bit more room, this is an easy choice. I walk in, hang my backpack on the courtesy ring, lock the door, drop my pants. [censored]. There's no paper ring to protect my ass from the evils that lurk below. I amuse myself by wondering if the Japanese make origami ass-pads for themselves from the toilet paper provided. I briefly consider attempting a crude shield of my own, but quickly dismiss the notion. Maybe I'm doing something wrong, but it just never works out for me as most of my ass ends up touching the seat at one point or another. It's kind of like tying a rubber band around your dick when there's no condom available. If you're stupid, it makes you feel better, but in reality it doesn't provide any extra protection and just makes the whole thing more awkward. I give the seat a quick wipe to collect any stray hairs or fluids, and I plant my ass. Wow. The seat is warm, and in a good way. Maybe it's instinct or maybe I made some very fast estimates of ass temperature and porcelain heat retention, but somehow I know that the seat is purposely heated and I'm not stewing in someone else's aftermath. My butt doesn't normally receive this kind of attention and is very appreciative of the thoughtful toilet. As I'm going about my business, I notice a panel of buttons. I'm eager to press them, but decide it prudent to wait. After I feel confident that I've completed my donation, I wiggle my fingers. Button 1  Holy [censored]. I am getting a rim job. Technically, a stream of water is shooting up my ass, but I AM GETTING A [censored] RIM JOB. I was pretty sure of what was going to happen when I pressed the button, but I never expected this. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be doing anything, so I take the same line I did when I got my first blow job: freeze up and pray it doesn't stop. After awhile it becomes apparent that my new friend has no intention of letting up. I decide to move on before my anus becomes raw. Button 2:  Well if the toilet was shy before, it sure as hell isn't now because the stream has narrowed and it is focused RIGHT on the sweet spot. This is a truly guilty pleasure. If I was having this toilet delivered I would demand it come in plain brown, discrete packaging. At some point, the water becomes cold. I've obviously spent too much time here and used up all the hot water. This is like eating a plate of appetizers that was meant for the whole table and only realizing it too late. I am fraught with shame and must commit seppuku. Still, there are other buttons. Button 3:  I giggle because the toilet is obviously confused about my gender. My first thought is, "There's no need to do that!", but I don't want to offend my new friend who has given so much. I politely allow it to continue for a short period of time. Button 4:  The stream stops and a warm breeze rushes under my buttocks. It's not harsh and utilitarian like a blowdryer, but caressing and motherly like a freshly warmed cloud. I hit the stop button. It appears my journey is at its end, but there's something that's been nagging at the back of my mind. I look wryly at the mounted roll of toilet paper. What are you doing in here? Do some people prefer you? Do such people exist? Still, I have to know. I peel off a square of the harsh paper and take an exploratory wipe. Nothing. Pristine white. Shame again. I am a doubting Thomas. I'm sorry toilet, it was my first time. I stand up and it dutifully erases all evidence of my visit. At the sink I give my flushed reflection a quick smirk. I'm lucky there is no bathroom attendant as I probably would have tipped him everything I had on me. The sink looks a bit complicated, but there are no knobs to turn or buttons to press. I reach my hands in. Blessed are the palms of the faithful, for they shall be soaped, rinsed, and dried. Outside I see my weathered rucksack lazily circulating around carrousel 4. I'm through the declarations area before I've even secured both straps. I'm pulling out greenbacks as I arrive at the currency exchange counter. 
|
|
#4
03-21-2007, 06:49 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: Japanese bathroom trip report
Very nice story. I recently went to Japan as well and I loved those damn toilets. I wasn't brave enough to press some of those buttons, but I got to enough that made the experience totally sweet.
I wonder how much those are. I want one!
|
|
#8
03-21-2007, 08:47 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: Japanese bathroom trip report
excellent read...guess i need to get over to japan soon (i just ate some McD's)
|
|
#9
03-21-2007, 08:49 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: Japanese bathroom trip report
FAN-TASTIC!
I too have used these marvels of modern engineering. I too have yearned for the "bacon" button [img]/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img] A++ Would read again!
|
 |
|
|
Linear Mode
